Armored Hearts (8 page)

“Where the hell are we going, Rand?”

“I told you, we’re having a picnic.”

“In the dark?” She shot him a narrow glance. “I don’t know how you interstellar types do it, but Falarans have picnics outside, in the bright sunshine, where they can listen to the featherlites sing and eat actual food. None of which describes choking down dry emergency rations in a fucking black ass cave.”

“This black ass cave has something the great outdoors doesn’t -- a complete lack of armed assholes.”

She lifted a brow at his rifle. “Present company excepted.”

Rand gave her that wolfish grin he did so well. “You’ve quite the mouth for a woman walking in a black ass cave with a vampire.”

“Yeah, I’m a risk taker.”

He moved so suddenly she had no time to react. One minute she was walking along beside him. The next, he’d pounced on her, swept her up in his arms, and dumped her across the shoulder opposite the one with his rifle and pack. She yelped, startled, the sound becoming a screech when his gauntled hand smacked her raised butt. “Hey!”

“That’s the thing about being a risk taker. Sometimes it bites you on the ass.” He raised his faceplate and nipped her hip.

She kicked furiously. “Put me down, bloodsucker!”

“You really are pushing it, entrée.” He popped her on the ass again. “Better be careful, or I may decide to tenderize my food.”

He was so damned outrageous, she found herself laughing. “You do realize your food may bite back?”

“God, I hope so.”

Lying across his shoulder as he bore her through the cave system, she grew aware of how incredibly dark it was.

And how totally alone together they were. Which wasn’t a bad thing, considering the alternative was being surrounded by the enemy.

He’s the enemy
, she reminded herself. Odd how hard it was to remember that with his big hand riding her ass. “Put me down.”

He didn’t even break step. “No.”

Her heart pounded with a delicious blend of excitement, anticipation and a little dread.
He can do anything he wants with me out here
, she thought. And the thought didn’t scare her a bit.

Zara thought of Andre, her first vampire lover. He must have been just as strong, but he’d never tried to carry her. Probably because this kind of display was a dominant’s trick, designed to make a submissive aware of his sheer physical power.

And it was working. She felt aroused and anxious and eager, all at the same time. What was he planning? Another spanking? Maybe he’d make her suck him off while he…

Rand stroked a big hand over her thigh, the armored glove cool and hard. “You’re going to be delicious.” His voice was a purr of rough velvet, deep and intimate.

Zara swallowed, remembering the feel of his cock thrusting deliciously deep as he penetrated her from behind. She thought of his hands and mouth and the sweet, stinging bite of his fangs. The copper taste of his blood as he’d fed her, saved her. The man was the embodiment of every vampire fantasy she’d ever had.

She could just relax and enjoy whatever pleasure he decided to give her. This time there’d be nobody to overhear her screams of ecstasy. Or think she deserved to be punished for the desire they believed women had no business feeling.

Rand was nothing like that kind of narrow minded bastard. He valued her passion as much as his own. In fact, he went to considerable lengths to intensify her enjoyment in every way he possibly could.

She could relax while he took control. She was free. Whatever happened afterward, she’d worry about later.

So Zara relaxed, enjoying the sweep of big hands along her thighs and calves, stroking up to the curve of her ass. Distinctly possessive.

Rand turned into another tunnel. The opening they’d just walked through vanished behind them, assuming the appearance of smooth stone. Another camouflage field.

“How many field generators did you plant, anyway?”

“As many as I need.” He turned right, walked through the cavern beyond and ducked into another tunnel opening, which also disappeared behind a camouflage field.

“Why did you put all this in place?” She’d love to think it was because of her, but he hadn’t even known she existed until last night.

“Contingency plans. In war, you have to have plans, and then plans for what you’ll do when the first plan fails. And then a third plan in case the second plan goes out the airlock too. Otherwise you have a tendency to get dead.”

“So the Godssonists won’t find us until you’re good and damned ready to be found.”

He nodded his helmeted head. “Exactly. Which means you can relax and concentrate on all the kinky sex I’ve got planned.”

“Do you have contingencies for that too?”

“Actually, I’m playing that by dick.” He laughed, the sound wicked. “Luckily I’m a very creative guy.”

“I noticed.” Arousal rolled through her like heated syrup. What was he going to do with her? What were these kinky plans of his?

He turned again, and put her down on a soft, yielding surface. A mattress, she realized, placed directly on the floor. Glancing around cautiously in the spill of light from his helmet, she found they were in a stone chamber only a little bigger than his tent. Stacks of boxes stood around them, but she couldn’t read their labels in the dim lighting. “You really are serious about those contingency plans, aren’t you?”

“You have to be when you work with psychotic assholes.” Noticing that she was tensing, preparing to roll off the mattress, he dropped his voice to a dominant’s growl. “Don’t you move.”

She froze, staring up at him as he towered over her. The light on his helmet blinded her so she saw him only as a tall silhouette with powerful armored shoulders.

Rand turned, sliding the strap of his rifle off his shoulder and putting the weapon down. He took the pack off and fished around inside it as he knelt beside the mattress. A moment later he reached for her again, taking her cuffed wrists and spreading her arms wide.

Sitting back on his heels, he studied her, the light on his helmet sweeping the length of her body. “Mmmm, you do look tasty,” he said in a deep, low voice. “And you’re completely at my mercy. I can do anything I want to you. You can yowl and scream and moan all you want and no one will hear you. My own delicious little picnic.”

Her nipples tightened against the fabric of her uni as she stared up at him, hypnotized.

“The problem is, my dinner is overdressed.” Bending, he ran a finger down the seal of her uni from its high collar, over the rise of her ribcage and down to the dip of her navel, then lower still, between her legs. The uni parted, the light on his helmet following his fingers, making her intensely aware of his gaze.

His hand slid between her thighs, cool on the vulnerable flesh of her labia. He spread the fabric further apart so he could stroke between her lips. “You’re pretty wet for a woman at the mercy of a vampire,” he observed in that dark voice, a purr of amusement and distilled sex. “You like this, do you?”

One of those armored fingers thrust upward, sliding easily inside her pussy. She gasped as he filled her, penetrating her all the way to his knuckles. The chill of his armored hand was shocking and raw and erotic. She caught her breath.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, cool, demanding.

Zara obeyed before she even had time to think about it, her thighs instinctively parting. His armored fingers pumped, setting up a lush, erotic rhythm. He was right. She really was wet.

She worked her hips, humping his hand in shameless pursuit of ecstasy. His thumb found her clit, circled. Delight rolled over her, waves of it, sweet and seductive. A second armored finger slid in, driving into her slickness, the sensation intense.

Groaning, Zara panted, humping his hand, straining for more of that luscious sensation. He reached up her body with his free hand, pushing aside the edges of her suit. Found an aching, eager nipple to squeeze.

“You have such pretty breasts,” Rand murmured, low and seductive. “So pale, like mounds of cream. Especially compared to your rosy little pussy.” The light on his helmet danced from her breasts down to her sex and back again, tracking the movement of his eyes.

“God, that feels so good,” she moaned, closing her eyes and rolling her head against the mattress.

“And it’s about to get even better.” To her intense disappointment he released her pussy and nipples, leaving them aching. She raised her head, arms still flung helplessly wide, as he rose from the bed and took one of her booted feet in his hand. He found the boot’s seal and traced his fingers down its length. It split wide open over her shin, and he pulled it off, setting it neatly aside. He did same thing to the other boot and set it down with its mate before picking something up off the floor.

Whatever it was gleamed as he fastened it around her ankle. She identified it when her leg instantly went as numb as her manacled wrists. Neurocuffs. “What are you…”

“You’re a fighter. I don’t want you to.” The light on his helmet flicked up to her face. “Later, you can fight.”

What the hell does he mean by that
? Before she could ask, he put the other shackle on her ankle. “Now,” he rumbled, “you’re really helpless.”

He pulled her into a sitting position so he could start stripping the uni off her shoulders and down to her waist, then dragged the sleeves down her arms, then raised her hips to pull the suit off. At last he lay her down and arranged her spread-eagle. The cuffs paralyzed her arms and legs. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do to flight him. He could arrange her body in whatever way suited him.

Which left her naked, shackled and wildly aroused.

Rand rose from the mattress and stood beside it, his helmet’s light taking a slow tour of her nudity, lingering on face, breast, and pussy. Half blinded, she waited to see what he would do next.

“That’s better,” he purred. Reaching up, he took off his helmet and set it down beside the mattress. The helmet light swung up toward the ceiling of the cave and brightened until it illuminated the space in a soft glow.

Licking her lips, Zara watched him remove his armor, listening to the soft metallic clicks, and the sigh of the armor’s seals. He dropped the gauntlets beside the helmet, then removed his boots and placed them together opposite her clothes. Finally he stripped off the top and bottom of the suit to reveal his handsome, brawny nudity. Finally -- God, finally -- he was completely naked.

He took a small jar out of his pack. Straightening, he unscrewed the lid, his big cock bouncing with the movement.

“You’re going to like this.” Rand smiled wickedly down at her, anticipation in his gaze as he reached into the jar and scooped up a generous portion of glistening gel.

“What are you going to do to me?” The question was half joking, half flirtatious, but it came out sounding all hoarse.

“Whatever I want.” One corner of his mouth tilted up. “And I want to do a good bit.”

Kneeling beside her, he started smoothing the substance over her chest. It was cold, and she sucked in a gasp, then gasped again as the gel seemed to heat on her skin.

Zara raised her head to look down the length of her body as he spread the substance into an even thinner layer, paying particular attention to her breasts and nipples. Once her torso was completely slick and glistening, he started massaging it into her arms and legs, his big hands warm against her skin. Some of the cold numbness retreated from her paralyzed limbs.

Her skin shimmered under the gel with a rainbow sheen in the light of the helmet. With every moment that passed, it seemed she grew more sensitive, particularly her nipples. Zara’s breathing roughened, her heart beating faster and faster.

Rand scooped out more of the gel, reached between her thighs, and began slicking it over her labia and jutting clit. She sucked in a hard breath, feeling that sensitivity increase until it seemed her pussy throbbed in time to her heartbeat. Aching, she waited for whatever he might want to do to her.

Finally he sat back on his heels, studying her with satisfaction. “There. All done.”

She laughed. “God, I hope not.”

“Feeling neglected, darling?”

“More like dying of anticipation.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Rand put the jar aside and picked up his pack again. Taking out several metallic objects, he slid them one at a time onto his fingers. At first she thought they were rings, but he pushed them down no further than his fingertips.

What the hell did he have in mind? Zara had read a great deal about vampire sexual techniques, and she wasn’t familiar with any that called for rings. “What are you doing?”

“This.” And he reached down and hovered his hand just a few centimeters over her skin. A brilliant crimson spark leaped from his fingertips to dance over her glistening skin. Pleasure exploded in her senses, so intense she gasped.

He grinned at her. “Like that, do you?”

“What the hell?”

“They call this neuroplay. It’s the newest thing in vampire circles. The gel conducts and intensifies the sensations I create with these neuro stimulators.” He spread his hands, displaying his rings. “The light show is just a pretty plus. Speaking of which…”

The helmet light went out, leaving them in complete darkness thick enough to stir with a spoon. He reached out and began to run his hands just above her skin, tiny bolts leaping and dancing from his fingertips. The sparks changed from red to yellow to green to purple, a rainbow chasing his hand through the darkness. Every one of them sent waves of sensation across her skin, sometimes pleasure, sometimes stinging bites of pain.

Zara cried out, gasping as he played her body, conducting a symphony of sensation and color.

Taste flooded her mouth -- orange bursting on her tongue as if she’d bitten into a piece of the fruit. Next came cherries and mango and chocolate and mocha. “What… What’s that I’m tasting?”

“Well, I did promise you a picnic.” He stroked sparking fingers over her nipples, triggering a tiny electrical storm above her skin. Color chased color with every gesture he made, swamping her with the sensation of phantom teeth nibbling as phantom tongues licked and danced. She panted, groaned, loving the vivid sensations.