Later that evening, Devnar hung suspended against a wall in the vast dining room of Melania’s estate, watching her eat dinner. The metal cuffs around his wrist were held against the wall by powerful magnets, spreading his arms at his sides but not high enough to impede his circulation. A man who had identified himself as Devnar’s groom had washed every inch of him until he had been cleaned in places even his most ardent lover hadn’t explored. The groom had added ankle cuffs as well when Devnar called one of the maids every foul thing he could think of after she had pinched his ass.
His nipples still throbbed from where they had been pierced, but the cellular reconstruction cream was doing its job and healing him rapidly. The gold rings glinted in the subdued lighting. As a maid walked past him, her full skirt brushed his legs and he snarled at her. To his disgust, she didn’t even flinch or disturb the bottle of wine she carried to the table.
Soft music played in the background, and a jungle of plants lined the walls. The tall trees reaching toward the dark skylights made his heart ache for his home. He attempted to shift into a more comfortable position in his shackles and resumed his glaring at Melania.
A gold mesh loincloth covered his groin, but it left little to the imagination. His hair was now back in a tight braid that hung over his shoulder, and his skin had been oiled until it gleamed. Even his body hair had been waxed and groomed until he barely recognized himself.
Raising the last bite of her dinner to her mouth, Melania sighed and patted her lips with her cloth napkin. Despite himself, he was fascinated by her. Every move she made was with a grace and control that turned a simple meal into an erotic dance.
Though she hadn’t acknowledged him once, he still felt she was putting on a show for his benefit. Too bad it was a wasted effort. Yeah, the pressure in his balls wasn’t from watching those pink lips wrap around the fork and suck the food off. Not at all.
“Tell me about your home world, Prince.” Her mouth parted as she raised an etched wineglass to her lips, and he had a sudden mental image of those pink lips parting to take his cock down her slender throat. She regarded him over the rim with open curiosity as he tried to banish that thought from his mind.
Unsure of her motivation, he lifted his lip in a silent snarl. “It’s better than this piss hole you call a planet. Why you waste your time guarding this polluted hunk of rock is beyond me. Who would want to invade a world where you have to live beneath domes to survive?”
Gently placing the wineglass back on the table, she toyed with the stem, and her eyebrows drew together. He was amazed at how easy she was to read. She didn’t try to hide any of her emotions from him…or she was afar better liar than he thought.
“How do your people live?”
“Why do you care? I’m a prisoner to fuck and punish.”
She crossed her slender legs and leaned back into the chair. Her foot tapped an irritated dance in the air, though her voice was still calm. “I’ve never met an off-worlder before.” She hesitated, and the tempo of her foot picked up. “My education did not include lessons about other worlds.”
With a snort, he jerked at his bonds. “Why would they bother to educate a whore?”
Oh, that made her mad.
Her full, pink lips grew narrow, and her foot stopped, the tip pointing at the ceiling. “Obviously you know no more about my culture than I do about yours. I am a breaker, a trainer of concubines.”
She went silent again and stroked her fingertips over her lips. His gaze followed the progress of her finger, and he wished it was the head of his cock pressing against that soft flesh. What would it be like to have her mouth wrapped around him? Would she swallow his seed, or would she want it to cover her face?
He startled as she rose from her chair, jerked out of his daydreams by the liquid flash of her leather beneath the subdued lighting. He bit his tongue and willed his body not to respond to her. She was the enemy, a bitch like the rest. The soft roll of her hips as she strode across the pale wood floor toward him set his teeth on edge.
“You are my novice, and you should be thankful for the chance to ever serve a royal house.”
“I am a prince. I am no one’s whore.” He raised his chin and stared down his nose at her as she slowly walked past the edge of the table, trailing her fingers down the polished wood.
“No, you’re a lucky fool.” Her scent saturated the air as she gave him a look of disapproval that, strangely, hurt his feelings. He must be losing his mind. Only a crazy man would give a shit about what his beautiful, soft, and delicious adversary thought about him. “By all rights you should be spending your days in the zanthin mines with the rest of the thieves and murderers.”
“I’m not a murderer.” He ignored her snort. “The only men I’ve ever killed were on the field of battle in honorable combat.” Why was he trying to defend himself to this slut? Why should he care what she thought of him? The fact that she was the first person to treat him with any hint of kindness since his capture didn’t mean she wasn’t here for the purpose of making him a compliant slave.
As he grappled with his confused feelings, she leaned close enough for her breath to warm his chest. So tiny he could crush her with one hand. The mental fantasy of hurting her didn’t bring him any of the pleasure it used to when he’d dreamed of torturing his other trainers. His lust refused to be turned to battle rage and deepened as her heat moved over his exposed skin like the sunlight he craved.
“Your people like to fight?” The sensation of her breath caressing his skin made the hair on his arms stand on end.
“No one likes war. We fight to protect our people, to keep our territory and women out of the hands of the southern rebels.” He tried to shift away from her fingertips as they traced the ridges of his abdominal muscles. Little sparks of pleasure followed her touch, and his cock twitched with interest.
“Then our people have something in common.” She pressed the soft pads of her fingers into the hard curve of his hip bone.
“What are you talking about? We’re nothing like you.” His heartbeat sped as she toyed with the top edge of his loincloth.
“Really? Aren’t you like those rebels you protect your home against? Didn’t you raid what you hoped was an innocent vessel in order to pillage it?”
Her words struck him, and he snapped, “That’s not the same at all. We raid to survive. Look at you; look at this place.” He gestured to the room with his shackled hand. “I bet you’ve never gone hungry, never known what it’s like to wonder where your next meal is coming from. You’ve probably never even seen a starving child, let alone had to hold one while they died in your arms.” His breath came out in harsh pants, and he fought to control himself. He had no need to justify himself to this bitch. Why the hell did he care if she thought he was scum? As soon as he could, he was going to get out of here and kill anyone who tried to stop him, even her.
Ignorant of his internal struggle, she placed her hand gently over his heart. “And you have?” Instead of anger, her voice held a pity that scraped against his nerves. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It must haunt you.” The memory of the massive droughts that had led to the hungry years poked at the ache in his heart. He fought against the soothing effect of her husky voice as the perfume of her arousal filled his nose. “Whether you believe it or not, Prince, it is hard for me to watch you or anyone else suffer. I will do everything in my power to make this as easy and pleasurable for you as I can. I promise.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth and stared over her head at the wall. A cascade of water fell in undulating sheets of color from somewhere in the ceiling, illuminated from below by shifting lights. Green shimmers blended to violet as she stood before him, her breath tickling his chest. Slowly the regrets of the past faded until he was once again focused entirely on her.
Soft and warm, her hand cupped his cheek and stroked his skin. Feminine, fragile, compassionate, she brought all his protective instincts to the surface, and he tried to fight his primal nature. Though he’d never experienced it himself, the signs of his body reacting to a potential mate scared him. Even now he responded to her nearness with an eager rush of lust that tightened his balls.
“My servants told me you were a good boy about your piercings.” She ignored his swearing, and he could smell a faint hint of her musk. So she wasn’t as unaware of him as she pretended. The thought pleased him, and he cursed his own stupidity. She held him captive and kept him from his people. The fact that her hot little cunt got wet for him shouldn’t stroke his ego; it should disgust him. And he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about how her pussy would taste on his tongue. “For that you get a reward.”
Synopsis: Prince Devnar of Jensia is goaded into raiding the wrong space ship, springing a trap that captures him for use as a Royal pleasure slave, a Concubine, on Kyrimia. He vows to do everything he can to escape and keep from forming a psychic bond with his captors that would render him absolutely and totally in love. This proves difficult to do when the female Breaker assigned to turn him into a Concubine, Melania, is the epitome of his perfect woman.
Melania has been raised and trained to help reluctant and abused Novices to break through their personal blocks and attain the ultimate prize of becoming a Concubine. When she is given Devnar to train, she finds herself in danger of doing the forbidden and falling in love with her Novice. This angry, scarred, and utterly seductive male tests her self-control like no other.
Devnar and Melania find themselves at the heart of a galaxy wide political battle that will test a love that they must not acknowledge, and cannot live without, to its very limits.
About The Author:
Ann is Queen of the Castle to her wonderful husband and three sons in the mountains of West Virginia. In her past lives she’s been an Import Broker, a Communications Specialist, a US Navy Civilian Contractor, a Bartender/Waitress, and an actor at the Michigan Renaissance Festival. She also spent a summer touring with the Grateful Dead-though she will deny to her children that it ever happened. From a young age she’s been fascinated by myths and fairytales, and the romance that often was the center of the story. As Ann grew older and her hormones kicked in, she discovered trashy romance novels. Great at first, but she soon grew tired of the endless stories with a big wonderful emotional buildup to really short and crappy sex. Never a big fan of purple prose, throbbing spears of fleshy pleasure and wet honey pots make her giggle, she sought out books that gave the sex scenes in the story just as much detail and plot as everything else-without using cringe worthy euphemisms. This led her to the wonderful world of Erotic Romance, and she’s never looked back.
Now Ann spends her days trying to tune out cartoons playing in the background to get into her ‘sexy space’ and has learned to type one handed while soothing a cranky baby.
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