Awakening The Warriors (3 page)

“I scent your desire for me,” growled Quain.

And he was right. I was so hot for him I was burning up, my body shaking. I had never felt so alive. I took a deep breath and pushed my panties down to my ankles and stepped out of them. His gaze was fixed on the brown curls that covered my mound; his breathing was deep and quick, the muscles in his arms, chest and legs tense and bulging as he waited.

I climbed onto the table, knelt, my eyes glued to the most impressive cock I had ever seen. The man was built like a bull, with balls that would overflow the palms of my hands, his cock stiff and so thick I'd have difficulty in my fingers meeting if I gripped it. Could I do this? Of average build and my weight at least five kilos more than what I should have been, there was no way I could be a match for this massive man.

“I'm too small.” Disappointment pitched my voice high.

“Take it slowly.” He gritted his teeth.

Chewing my lip, I shot a look at him. His teeth were clenched and an orange light glittered like molten lava in his black eyes as he stared at me, his forceful aura demanding me not to stop.

And god help me, I didn't want to. My pussy throbbed to take everything this warrior had to give and I could feel my muscles moistening, preparing for his entry.

I straddled him, my knees spread wide over his lower torso, my hands pressing on his stomach balancing me, keeping me poised just above his cock. My gaze fused with his, I lowered myself. The rounded knob touched my sensitive skin, frizzled my nerve ends into life and I rubbed against it.

Quain flung his head back, the muscles in his neck like corded rope and I felt dizzying power rush through me.

A little lower his cock pushed further into me, stretching me. Chains rattled and Quain thrust his buttocks up off the table, the movement driving his cock further into me, stealing my breath. He paused, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut. And I pushed my body down, wallowing in the fullness between my legs and the slight burn of pain searing my passage. I pushed up, then down again until I was fully impaled.

Was it my imagination or did his cock throb and pulse within me, sending charges of tiny electrical shock waves tingling into my womb? Need built like a storm surge lashing against a hapless ship, each wave bigger, more powerful than the previous. My body moved and I rode him, my hands gripping his boarded stomach, even my soul desperate for release. He shuddered beneath me, his cock stiffening even further, shooting scalding fluid into me. I exploded over the edge, continued to push myself up and down with that hot muscle of ecstasy pumping so furiously within me I could have died from sheer bliss.

My shoulders slumped; my head dipped towards my chest; tingles of sensation still flickered through my trembling body.

“It is done,” said Quain.

Fingers tilted my chin and I opened my eyes to stare uncomprehending for a few long seconds. Quain was inches away, sitting upright and so close his breath puffed against my face. He shook his hand and chains no longer rattled. I looked from him to the table and back again.

“The force of my release gave me the power to pull free of the shackles. For that I thank you,” Quain said.

His touch left me, reluctantly or so it seemed. Something flared in his eyes. A quick flash before he shielded it by half-closing his lids. I wondered what it was, what he'd been thinking. One thing I did know was it had made me feel flustered, unsure, like I was a school girl. He leaned back sufficiently to gaze down to where we were still joined and his voice reeked of satisfaction when he said, “We will do this again, and soon. But slower. Now we must make haste.”

We crept along the rock-paved passageway in single file. Ahead, Quain led our little band with Jerrell bringing up the rear. The other prisoners trotted behind Quain. Relia and I trudged in front of Jerrell with the body of Finnan draped over the stretcher the Darkons had fashioned out of the bench that had been in our cell. I was in front, my arms pulled back to grasp the stretcher's crude handles, and my muscles screamed for relief. My teeth sank into my lower lip and I swallowed my whimpers.

But the need for stealth was paramount.

The faintest sound could alert the Elite soldiers of our whereabouts. And we had still to locate any other prisoners before we made our rush for the shuttle bays. Even now I found it hard to recall those last lust-filled moments in the Darkons' cell. With my body throbbing in climax I had been oblivious when Quain had broken free of his chains. But when he recalled me to reality with the touch of his hands on my face, I had scrambled off him with more haste than dignity. My face burning, I had tugged on my clothes and boots and by the time I had finished, Quain had released his other two companions. I had glanced round just in time to catch Quain and Jerrell clasp each other's upper forearms and lean their foreheads together. Relief? Their usual act of greeting? Or something much closer? Considering what I had just been doing with the both of them, maybe I didn't want to know.

Alas, there was nothing we could do for Finnan, and the other warriors had refused to leave him behind.

Precious time was spent making the stretcher amid voracious complaints from Ana and her friend, quickly doused by Quain who immediately made it clear who was in charge. So far, luck at been on our side, although every cell we had passed had been empty.

Not for the first time did I wonder about the brutality of the guards. What had they hoped to achieve with such methods? Questions buzzed like crazed March flies inside my head and I wished there had been time to query Quain or Jerrell. Probably Jerrell, because when he regarded me, his features softened. Not so Quain, who had hardly spared me a glance since I had jumped off the table.

Quain held up a hand and we halted. I craned my neck and saw him disappearing around a corner. Barely three minutes had passed before he returned, striding past us to confer with Jerrell in low tones. He marched back to stop beside me.

“You and the others will remain here until we signal the all clear.” Quain grasped the handles from me and after nodding to Relia to do the same, lowered the stretcher to the ground. The next instant he was rubbing my arms, working his fingers into my sore muscles to release the tension. Head bent, he took my hands in his, massaging my stiff fingers and I sucked in a breath, staring down at his dark hair, taking a moment to admire the glints of silver highlighting the blue black depths. He glanced up, snagged my gaze and held it. His expression was all male, dominant, possessive and proud as he stared at me.

Heat crawled over my face and down my neck to settle somewhere close to my heart, and I trembled.

“As soon as we're out of here, I'm on the first ship back to Earth,” I stated loudly.

Challenging Quain was not a good idea because he dropped my hands, cupped my face then pressed a hard, thorough kiss on my lips. And desire exploded deep in my belly. I thrust my hands into my pants' pocket before I wrapped them around his neck and pulled him into my arms.

“Do as you are bid,” said Quain.

No hint of any raging desire for me in his cool voice, a fact that made me shuffle my feet and wrench my gaze from his hooded eyes to stare at the wall. Quain swung away and stalked off. My gaze followed him, as if magnetically linked. The sight of the deep slashes criss-crossed over his muscled back and taut bare buttocks was a horrific reminder of the pain he still must feel, and yet whatever agony he felt was buried while he concentrated on ensuring our escape.

“You will become accustomed to him,” said Jerrell, passing his hand over my head and fingering some strands of my bob-cut hair. Dipping his head he nuzzled my neck, his lips moving in a gentle caress over my skin before he turned aside and followed.

By sheer effort of will, I stopped myself from running after them. My vision blurred. Stupid to feel as if I'd been abandoned.

“I find I am envious,” murmured Relia stepping closer to me. She indicated the disappearing men with a jerk of her chin. “To have two such magnificent specimens sniffing after you, what I would not give to be in your shoes.”

Pulling my hands from my pockets, I tucked my chin near my chest, staring at my boots while I flexed my cramped fingers. “Any time you want to trade places, give the word.”

“You do not mean that?” she said.

“Trust me, I do. There's no room for a couple of sex-starved blokes in my life at the moment. My focus is solely on getting out of here alive,” I muttered, keeping my voice low. Head high, I met her eyes, hoping the hungry bite of lust that still prowled in my veins could not be read from my expression. Or worse, the softening of my long-guarded heart.

Relia tapped a finger against her chin and opened her mouth, but the crack of plitza fire had me brushing past and running to the end of the passageway. The others surged in my wake and I waved them back.

“Stay where you are,” I hissed over my shoulder. My body plastered to the wall, I inched forward. Holding my breath, I peeked round the side and my eyes widened as I took in the scene.

In the guards' resting station, Quain was doing some serious hand to hand fighting with two guards while I caught a brief glimpse of Jerrell as he ducked behind a desk, a plitza shot whizzing past what must have been a mere hair's width from where he had been standing. Three guards lay unmoving on the floor. I snapped my gaze away from the one with blood and greyish-gore leaking from his smashed-in head. Four more guards ran into the room, firing a volley of shots in Quain's direction. Bending from the waist, he flung his upper body backwards, sank into a crouch, slammed a punch upwards into a guard's gonads. He leapt to his feet and lashed out in a wide swing with his left leg, knocking the other guard off balance. It reminded me of a Cossack dance movement. A blast seared across his chest; a trail of blood spurted from the new wound but Quain didn't flinch. He launched himself onto the guard still teetering about in his clunky militia boots and I heard the thudding of fists pounding into flesh.

The next instant Quain rose to his feet and advanced on the remaining soldiers, a fulon weapon in each hand. I flinched as the rapid fire of mini plasma streams screeched through the air.
So much for being quiet
. Through the haze fogging the small room, I saw Quain and Jerrell, guns in hands, race out the room chasing the retreating guards.

Heart beating like it was trying to escape from my ribs, I turned to the others and said, “The Darkons have the guards on the run. I'm going to check the cells on the next level. Who'll come with me?”

Margaret darted to my side and slipped her hand into mind. I smiled into her earnest face. “Not you, honey, I need you to stay here.” I squeezed her fingers. “Anyone else?”

Quick furtive glances slid from one face to the other and no one spoke until Relia stepped forward. “I will.”

“Thanks, come on.” I ran across the room, skirting the bodies on the ground till I arrived at the bottom of a metal staircase where I began to climb. At the top, we separated, each taking a different direction. I hurried along the metal deck stopping every now and then to scan the cells. Nothing.

Shouts came from below and I recognised Jerrell's voice bellowing for my return. At least, I assumed the shouted word
‘female'
was meant to be me. I scrubbed my face with my hands, about to return to the others when a faint sound captured my attention. Someone or something was humming and the noise came from behind. Hadn't I checked those cells? I hurried back and peered through the bars. The room was empty but the noise was louder. It definitely came from inside, plus I now recognised the wobbling tune as a popular song that had hit the airways before I embarked on this journey. I stared into the cell: no-one, and yet I could still hear the song.

A breeze wafted along the corridor, cooling my over-heated face and drifted past me. The lone torch flared. One brief bright flame, but it was enough for me to spy another door opposite. I grabbed the bars, shook and although the metal rattled the door wouldn't budge. Footsteps clanged towards me and I turned to see Jerrell running along the deck.

“Come,” he shouted.

Despite the situation I couldn't help my eyes from examining him from head to bare feet. My stiff shoulders relaxed a trifle, for I could see no serious wounds on his body. He reached my side and grasped my arm. I shrugged free.

“There's someone trapped in a room beyond this one,” I said pointing to the opposite wall.

Jerrell darted a look behind him, then glanced into the cell. He sighed. “Stand back.”

I danced out of the way just as he lifted his plitza gun and fired at the lock, which shattered. Shards of metal showered to the ground, glittering like precious gems in the wavering light of the torches. Jerrell yanked open the door, pushing me behind him as he strode across the cell then dragged me off to the side before he fired again and another lock exploded.

The fine grey smoke dissipated as the door swung inwards.

“Anyone in there?” I said.

“Oh thank god,” came a male voice from within. And a babble of voices bombarded me with anxious questions.

We'd found the other colonists.

The women couldn't seem to tear their eyes off either Quain or Jerrell. They goggled first at one warrior and then the other, speculation in their wide-eyed stares. Some even licked their lips and fiddled with their hair. Obviously the desire for water and food had been forgotten for the time being at the sight of the man-candy marching back and forth. Being from Earth, like myself, any one of these women, if not all, would probably be capable of arousing the Darkon soldiers. The thought sank like giant boulders in my gut, piling up like an avalanche, until I wanted to yell and scream,
‘hands off'
.

I frowned and stuffed my hands into my pockets. Neither warrior paid any attention to the women. Both men strode about gathering weapons from the fallen guards, checking the security comms and conferring with each other in muted tones. Even though they were now clad in pilfered flight pants and boots, they were a magnificent sight. Their wounds, bruises, and the aura of leashed violence simmering about their bodies merely added to their potent attraction.