Surely it’s not going to be that easy, is it?
I snatch the bone knife off the floor then jump to my feet. Every muscle in my body aches and feels cramped, and my head throbs at the sudden movement. Too bad. I creep to the front of the cave and see him standing a short distance away, looking off at the distant mountains, his hand shielding his eyes. His horns jut ominously from his brow, and his tail flicks as if irritated.
“Time to go, Harlow,” I breathe and race out into the snow, heading in the opposite direction. I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t really care. Away seems like the best answer at the moment.
I can’t really race in the snow, though. Human feet aren’t made for handling the snowdrifts of Not-Hoth and I sink down with each step. It’s like trying to run through mud, and I move slowly. I’m heaving and panting with exertion, my muscles straining, but I can’t stop.
An angry, wordless cry echoes behind me from somewhere, and I know I’ve been spotted. “Shit!” I try to move faster, but my legs feel heavy and weak, and my head feels like it’s going to explode with every beat of my pulse.
As I run, I can hear his pounding footsteps getting closer, and wild panic sets into me. I clutch the knife, ready to attack if he grabs me. Let one of those arms try and wrap around my waist and I’ll stab the fuck out of him.
A moment later, I’m slammed to the ground on my stomach, a heavy weight resting on top of me.
I scream in rage and fear, and I thrash against him, slashing wildly behind me with the knife. I’m desperate to hit anything. I don’t care what as long as he lets go of me.
One big hand closes around my wrist and pins it to the snow over my head. Fingers tighten around my wrist bones until I whimper and release the knife, and he bats it away from my grip.
I kick at him, and then a moment later, I’m somehow on my back and his big body is on top of me. My breasts heave angrily and I glare at him. He’s pissed that I ran. It’s evident from his face. “Good,” I snarl at him. “My cootie may be into Stockholm Syndrome but I am not!”
He lets me struggle against him for what feels like forever, and he’s not tiring at all. Frustrated, I give one last hard full-body heave to try and fling him off, but I’m unsuccessful. He probably weighs twice as much as I do.
In the process, though, my clothes have somehow come open and the next thing I know, my tits are bare, my tunic lacings having come completely undone in the struggle. I gasp in shock at the cold air – and at being bared to the waist.
My captor’s noticed this, too. His hands grip my wrists. Not hard, not painful any more, but just holding me down. He’s not looking anywhere but at my breasts, though, and the expression on his face reminds me that he’s had a boner the entire time he’s held me captive. Shit. My khui begins to sing even louder, the vibration so fierce it makes my breasts tremble. Double shit. I can feel his khui’s response to mine, can feel the thrumming moving through his body, too. His cock presses against one of my thighs, hard and insistent, and I’m half worried – and half anticipating – what’s going to come next.
The barbarian gazes down at my breasts for a long, long moment. Then, he leans in and inhales deeply, as if filling his nose with my scent.
For some reason, this strikes me as incredibly erotic, and I moan.
My moan is echoed in his throat. The groan that escapes him sounds utterly sexual, and he inhales deeply again, his nose rubbing against my skin. My nipples harden at the touch of his skin to mine. Those traitors want more touching. It doesn’t matter that he’s filthy, or a stranger, or that he’s kidnapped me. My nipples want attention and they want it now.
As I watch, he rubs his nose against my skin, in the valley between my breasts. It’s the place where the khui resonance is the most insistent, and a whimper escapes me at the sensation. His tongue flicks out, and I feel him lick my skin, tasting me.
I can’t handle it. It’s too much. Another whimper escapes me, and even though I want him to rip my clothing off and take me here in the snow, the word that tears from my throat is, “No.”
He lifts his head and stares at me.
“No?” he echoes.
Chapter Two
RUKH
I know this word.
I’m so excited at the familiarity of it that I forget all about how delicious my female is, how she’s thrumming under me and it makes my cock so hard I can barely think straight.
I know this ‘no’ word.
“No,” I repeat again, excited.