Abducting the Princess (3 page)

Speaking from experience?

The tunnel was eerily cast in light and shadow as she marched stiffly in front of Mahaya, but she could only be thankful for the flame that pressed back the inky blackness. She kept silent, all too aware what they’d shared had dissolved too many barriers between them. Barriers she should have maintained with ease.

Instead their kiss had tossed fuel onto the burning needs of her inner cat, making her body even more inflamed with need. She lifted her chin. She could only hope his discomfort was as severe as her own.

She had no idea how much time had passed trudging through the tunnels while thoughts tossed around in her head as though sand in a strong wind. One hour, two? She only knew that those same thoughts didn’t dwell on escape or even the pleasure of killing Mahaya. No, she was too busy recalling the rightness of their kiss.

She shivered. She’d do well to remember Mahaya was a
nightmix
. His was an affliction that was unstoppable and relentless.

The same darkness her father had to live with day-by-day.

It was why she’d taken over much of the king’s daily tasks. The unyielding pressure of being ruler could well have pushed him straight into the arms of his own inner darkness.

The unmistakable pinprick of sunlight far ahead dragged her back to the present. Relief careened through her. They’d be out of this gods forsaken cave and tunnel system soon enough. Once outside she could get her bearings.

Plan her escape.

Mahaya doused his torch when they stumbled into the daylight and its fierce heat. She squinted against the stark brightness. The sun was high overhead. Almost midday. Comprehension rushed through her. Goddess above, she’d been in the dreaded cave system for hours.

Her eyes finally adjusting, she swallowed past her dry throat at what she saw.

Far ahead of them, the
larakyte
palace that the king had had rebuilt, stone by stone into its former splendor, shone in all its glory. She’d never seen it from this vantage point before. And though the oasis wasn’t within sight, she knew it wasn’t far from the palace, where her mother and father—the king and queen—now permanently resided.

As a child she’d divided her time between the
larakyte
and
Zaneean
palace, going wherever her parents went. A lump built in her throat. They had been such simple days, before she’d taken on the responsibilities of the
Zaneean
people.

She stilled ahead of Mahaya. In the distance, she could just make out a handful of the king’s personal soldiers who patrolled the palace. She grinned, then took a breath and opened her mouth. They might just hear—

A hand clapped across her lips. “Don’t even think about it, Princess,” Mahaya rasped.

She stiffened. Asshole! But she didn’t need her big cat canines to bite down hard. Jerking back a little, she sank her teeth into his hand.

His breath hissed and his grip slackened. She pushed away and took off running, hoping like hell his injury kept him still and hurting for a little longer. Even if he didn’t shift, his DNA would guarantee he’d heal quickly.

The scream she let loose punctured the still air. But the antlike soldiers in the distance didn’t deviate in their patrol.

Oh, gods.
They were too far away, after all.

Footsteps pounded behind her and grew in volume, Mahaya’s long-legged stride quickly gaining him ground. She let loose a sob a second before he scooped her up as if she weighed little more than a hooded hawk on his wrist.

Her sob became a shriek, then reverted into a panther’s snarl as he turned her around to face him. She looked up into his hard face that had softened with pity. She glowered. She didn’t want his sympathy. Hell, she’d prefer his darkness, even his passion.

His eyes caught hers. “I won’t be so tolerant if you try that a second time.”

She pinned him with an even fiercer glare and fought to get out of the immovable constriction of his arms. “You bastard.”

He propelled her away from the palace, past the tiny cave opening they’d exited, which was little more than a hole in the ground and would be near impossible to detect unless shown.

The desert heat was merciless but he didn’t falter. He only slowed when the approaching distant specks on the horizon became more than a dozen horses with their riders.

Evidently Mahaya had more than one
larakyte
dissenter accomplice. She should have known he’d not acted alone. But who in their right mind would accept a
nightmix
into their ranks?

She stared resentfully, careless of her royal heritage. What good were her refined manners and leadership skills now?

The lead rider reined his huge, skittish roan stallion to a halt before acknowledging Mahaya with a nod and then her with bow from the waist. “Princess, on behalf of the men and myself,” his stare returned to Mahaya, “and our commander, allow me to apologize for any inconvenience this experience has caused.”

Commander?

She ignored a sudden jolt of hysteria at the man’s outrageous apology. All her senses instead latched onto the fact the men before her were both human and shifter, and would surely know of Mahaya’s
nighmix
flaw?

“Who are you?” she asked the human.

“Most of the men here call me Deakes.”

“Deakes…I could almost forgive you and your men for your unjustified hatred of us
larakytes
—”

Deakes frowned. She ignored him and instead twisted a little in Mahaya’s grip, aware of the fire in her eyes when she pinned him with her stare. “But
you
I could never forgive.”

“Oh? Is my
nightmix
blood that untenable?” he mocked.

She ignored the discomfort within that her words had caused him—he deserved far worse. “Yes,” she hissed. His hands tightened. She ignored the pain. “But even worse is your treachery.”

Deakes spoke up. “Mahaya has never—”

Mahaya put up a hand, instantly releasing the pressure to one of her arms and stopping Deakes’ excuses midway. “It’s better this way,” he said to Deakes; to his men. “I’d hate the
Princess
to question her beliefs.”

She turned away from him, lips compressed. She despised him and his revolting convictions with more force than she could put into words.

Deakes raised a brow. “If you say so.”

The men shifted uncomfortably on their horses, some exchanging affronted looks.

Too bad.
She’d never asked to be taken from her home, her people. She’d devoted her life for the greater good. And this was how they repaid her?

Deakes allowed his stallion to take a half dozen, jigging steps closer to them, before he dismounted and handed the reins to Mahaya with evident relief. “Jax is all yours.”

Mahaya nodded, launching himself into the saddle without need of the stirrup irons. He held out his uninjured hand to her.

She stepped back and said the words no well-bred princess should. “Fuck. You.”

He raised a brow even with his men’s background mutters of disbelief. “Don’t mind if you do.”

Anything scathing she might have said in return was lost to his men’s laughter, then to the distinct thud of approaching horses’ hooves that vibrated the firm-packed sand.

Glee tore through her at the latter. The soldiers had heard her scream after all!

Chapter Three

No sooner had the thought formed that Mahaya’s hard hands enclosed her forearms and she was lifted bodily onto the stallion. He pulled her against his chest, holding her immobile.

Stunned, she didn’t have any time to protest or even fight. Her peripheral vision noted Deakes throwing himself onto the back of the nearest mounted horse, evidently trusting the animal had the strength and stamina to carry two men.

Then Mahaya and his men wheeled their mounts around and pushed them into a full blown gallop.

Oh, gods.

The brilliant-white of the sand beneath them became a blur. Yet the tough shift and flex of the stallion’s muscles were so powerful she couldn’t help but think the animal was a perfect match for Mahaya.

The stallion easily outpaced the other horses and she wondered if even her father’s soldiers’ war mounts would be able to keep pace. The horses these men rode weren’t of pure bloodstock. But they’d evidently been bred for stamina, toughness and speed.

The stallion abruptly launched into the air, sailing over some jagged rocks that’d appeared seemingly from nowhere, no doubt uncovered by a past sandstorm. She’d never been much of a horsewoman and right then she could only be thankful for Mahaya’s strength that held her tight against him.

Long minutes passed—hours?—where she wondered if even his strong arms would keep her from slipping off his horse. Her legs and butt were numb. Her throat was parched from the hot wind, it only reinforced how tough the men and their mounts were to endure this kind of hardship.

The stallion’s breath was sawing in and out of its lungs by the time Mahaya finally slowed enough for the rest of his men to catch him. He thrust an arm forward even as he nodded to his right. The men appeared to understand. He pulled Jax into a sharp turn. As his horse maneuvered down a slight embankment of sand, the others galloped onward, no doubt expecting the soldiers to follow them.

Mahaya coaxed Jax through a shallow opening of rock, which opened into yet another cave. Except this one had no escape route should her father’s soldiers find them. The sandstone interior was just barely big enough to contain them.

She could have sung for joy when he dismounted and opened his arms to her. She might hate this man her body was attracted to, but she wasn’t about to pretend she didn’t want to get off his horse. As the stallion got its breath back and picked halfheartedly at a small pocket of straggly grass, she all but fell into Mahaya’s embrace, weak kneed and trembling after the hellish ride.

So why did she not protest when his hands—unscathed now by her teeth marks—moved to her waist, when his too-astute gaze seemingly read her every reaction?

Probably because there were just some things she couldn’t pretend.

The soldiers thundered past on their horses, breaking the moment. And taking with them her one brief chance of possible escape.

Fool.
She closed her eyes for a moment. She’d been more interested in her abductor than she had in her own rescue.

Mahaya released her with a telling glint of satisfaction in his stare. He unwound one of the water skins that were strapped behind each side of the saddle before uncapping it and handed it to her. “Drink. There won’t be much of this for some time yet.”

She was so angry at him, so angry at herself, it was all she could do not to throw the water skin on the ground and stamp on it with frustration. Her beast was surely not that desperate she was attracted to a
nightmix
? And where was he taking her anyway? There was nothing out there but desert and more desert.

Somehow the question couldn’t make it past her lips. Not once she took the skin from him and glugged some of the cool water down her dry throat. So good! The drink revived her, put some strength back into her spine.

Where they were going didn’t really matter. She’d be long gone before they got even halfway there. And if not, she’d find a way to escape back to where she belonged.

She took one last delicious swallow before handing him back the skin. He capped it without taking even a sip. What the hell? Had she just taken his quota too?
Shit.
Water was a scarce commodity. And despite her crazy up-and-down emotions, she should have known better. No doubt he’d assume she was a spoilt princess and cared for no one but herself.

If only he knew that despite everything, she did care about his well-being. Absurd, considering the circumstances. But their connection was undeniable. It was as if she’d known him her whole life and the kidnapping thing was nothing more than a temporary aberration.

A
nightmix
transgression?

He returned the water skin behind the saddle. When he swung back to face her, his stare clung to her still wet lips. Her breathing went shallow even as her tongue edged out, reflexively licking the water.

“Don’t,” he growled.

She’d been the one who’d given orders half her life. She wasn’t about listen to someone giving them to her. Ignoring the voice of reason, with deliberate provocation she licked her lips again. Damn it, despite everything she wanted his touch, needed it like parched ground needed life-giving rain.

Mahaya groaned. His head swooped down and his mouth covered hers.

Their panther growls echoed in the still, hot air.

But it was her human side as much as her animal that responded to him. His fingers that raked through the long strands of her hair sent ripples of longing through her skull and down her spine. Then he tugged her head back a little more, aligning their mouths before his tongue delved past her lips to taste her completely. Exploring and seducing.

Mira’s eyes momentarily closed as she lost herself to his kiss, his touch. She’d never been tempted by a male before, so why this sudden need to be seduced by Mahaya?

A
nightmix
. She stiffened, but then his hands dropped to the bare skin of her torso, his caress warming her all over and sparking her every nerve ending into life.

The relentless ache in her pussy intensified, causing her to whimper. Too bad he was everything she wanted but could never have. She pulled away. “We can’t do this.”

His eyes said otherwise, though he rasped in agreement, “This isn’t the place.” He lifted a hand, his touch so very gentle over her jaw. “But now your thirst for water is quenched, I can relieve another of your needs.”

The ache between her thighs throbbed harder still. She lifted her chin, pretending indifference. “The only need I have is that you return me home.”

“Liar,” he murmured. His hand at her waist dropped, caressing along the fabric between her thighs, rubbing back and forth until her halfhearted request was a distant memory and she was pushing the mound of her pussy against him.