Claimed: The Warriors of Nur (3 page)

Staying near her would have tempted him beyond his control.  Now his temptation stood before him fully aware and more exquisite than he’d realized. 

She was small--extremely small--barely reaching the middle of his chest.  In the dark, he’d thought her skin pale, but the bright light of day revealed it to be a creamy, swirling light brown.  The eyes that were shaded by thick black lashes were a sage-honey and shone like gold when the sun reflected in them. 

His gaze traveled from her small feet, up to her lush thighs ---stopping briefly at their apex-- it skimmed across her flared hips and narrowed waist.  Erol frowned slightly to see her coverings tied to conceal the ripeness of her breasts.  He could remember how lush and full they’d appeared, and his hands itched to weigh, to slowly pluck and pucker their ripe centers.  To taste and enjoy them on his tongue.  He continued to the silky skin of her exposed arms and shoulders …and the long stretch of her neck. 

A low growl escaped as his eyes locked on her small hand where it guarded the tender, abused column of her throat.  How close he’d come to destroying this female.

He strode towards her slowly, inhaling the sour scent of her fear.  He would deal with that later; for now, they needed to leave this place.  He wasn’t the only male in the area, and others would track her as he did.  He wouldn’t leave her. 
Aljeni
or not, a female was too precious a thing.

“Come”

Erol didn’t touch her; instead, he waited for her to take his offered hand.

“Come…we must go”

He slowly curled his body towards her.  He didn’t want to force her, but he
would
if he had to.  He wouldn’t leave her.

Reaching behind her, he gripped the straps to his
borża
, lifting it from where it rested against the stone wall.  Slipping it over his head, he adjusted it to rest against his back, and out of the way.

“I don’t want to force you, but you must come.”

Erol firmly grabbed her wrist and turned to begin the long trek back across the wastelands.  The journey would take longer than usual.  They’d have to go further to the south in order to avoid others who may be tracking her.  He wasn’t afraid to fight, but he didn’t want to take the chance of her being injured.  He would still reach his home before the moon covered again, but the longer he remained away, the more vulnerable it left his clan.

Leo’Nya was jerked forward.  They weren’t heading in the direction she’d come from, and she had no clue where he was going, but he’d apparently decided that she was going with him. 

Yeah…No…Not gonna happen
. 

She resisted, but her reluctance was to no avail.  His stride never faltered.  Never slowed.  He never gave any indication that he even noticed her struggles.

CHAPTER TWO

“WAIT!” she yelled. “Wait….you can’t…!” Again, she dug in, only to stumble forward as he continued to walk unhindered.  “Wait a damned minute!”

Her eyes narrowed as she stumbled along.  This was so
NOT
gonna happen.  She hadn’t come a bazillion miles from Earth to be kidnapped by this…this…ALIEN!  She wasn’t going
anywhere
! 

Abuse was one of the many things she’d learned never to take.  Being tiny, she’d always been an easy target for spiteful women and stupid men.  She couldn’t help it if she was pretty, and she couldn’t help her size either.  Both were gifts from her parents, Di’Nya and Taggard Zesiro.  Aside from her sister, they were the only things they’d ever given her. 

While her father had been a tall African man, with skin as dark and warm as ebony, her mother had been the opposite. Leo actually was a good two inches taller than her mother.  So in a way you could say she got her ‘height’ from her father and her looks from her mother.  Her mother had stood at a petite 5’4” tall, pale, of Italian decent, with a shape that put most women half her age to shame.  She’d had the curvy hourglass figure and warm sun-kissed complexion that Leo’Nya was now bless or, looking up at the sun with a grimace,
cursed
with.  While she was a warmer brown than her mother, it in no way protected her from the awful damage that over exposure to the sun could cause.  She would burn, and the longer she stayed in the sun, the more uncomfortable she’d get.  Earth’s climate wasn’t nearly as hot as Nur’s, and in the summer, she burned like a torch.  She could only imagine the damage an unprotected trek through the desert at high noon would produce.  Sun block was definitely going on her list of recommendations for the improvement of OD standard issue gear, right next to chameleon suits. 

She focused on the male in front of her.  He stalked along, confident in the knowledge that she had no choice other than to follow. 

Well, actually, she did have a choice.  Walk or be dragged. 

Leo fumed, the frightened anxiety of the night and morning boiling into a seething cauldron of helplessness before exploding into frustrated anger.  She hated to be bullied, bossed, or pushed around.  She had a ‘Napoléon Complex’.  At least that’s what the psych’s at The Alliance called it, but whatever the technical name was for the rage that boiled up inside her, she didn’t care.  He was big, well humongous really, and she was not.  In her opinion, there was never a reason to violate someone’s personal space, and oh boy did she feel violated.  The only people who did that were bullies.  Leo’Nya couldn’t
stand
a bully.

Grabbing hold of his hand, she clamped down, keeping it pinned to her wrist, and with two quick steps, she launched onto his back to wrap her legs around his waist.  She felt his weight brace and jerked her hand free when his grip relaxed.  Yanking hard, she forced his arm up between their bodies, using her knee to grip and immobilize it.  Then, snaking her other arm around his neck…she held on. 

On anyone else, she’d have been able to tighten her body around him and constrict until he just passed out.  She hadn’t bothered to remember the technical name, but it was one of her favorite moves.  It was perfect for someone small like her and was affectionately referred to as her “
Flying Boa
” move.  It was one of the only sparring holds that left her feeling totally in control instead of overwhelmed by the larger size of her inevitably larger opponents.  No matter how big you were, 150 pounds
of tenacious black girl on your back …well let’s just say, they didn’t call her ‘spider monkey’ for nothing.

Unfortunately, there was no way she was getting anything wrapped around him.  She just wasn’t long enough, so she’d just have to hang until he got tired of trying to buck her off.  At the very least, she’d wind him enough for him to need time to recover.  All she needed was a head start, and if nothing else, she thought she could out run him.  Carrying that much muscle, he was probably as slow as a salted slug.

Erol tensed, his first thought was that they were being attacked.  That thought was quickly erased when he felt a slim leg wrap snuggly around him.  The realization that
he
was the only one actually under attack came as he felt his arm being twisted and yanked behind him as she snaked an arm around his neck. 

He was more surprised than anything.  Why would she attack him?  Females didn’t attack males.  Males were dangerous in phase and would attack to protect themselves and their young, but to attack a male --your protector-- was unacceptable.  A male in phase struggled to maintain control of his rage and hungers, and blood lust could turn to desire.  For a female to attack was absurd. 

He again took long, ground-eating strides.  Shifting his arm to support the leg hugging his waist, he rebalanced her weight.  A soft chuckle rumbled his chest as she freed his arm to keep from falling.  If she chose to ride him the rest of their journey, he was more than willing to have her pressed to him, even if only his back had the pleasure.  With her legs spread wide, her scent filled his nostrils, and he groaned softly in need.  It’d been too long since he’d mounted a female. Having her body wrapped around him was torture and temptation in one.  He was a strong male, and as
Mexxeja
, he was worthy of a female.  Somewhere between the night and dawn, he’d decided that she would be his.  She was a female. 
Aljeni
.  Weak and in need of protection.  He would claim her, and with his brothers, protect her. 

Leo’Nya clung to his neck. 
What just happened here!

She couldn’t believe he was still walking. As if she hadn’t just slammed him with one of her best moves.  She’d taken down men twice his size with that move!  Well to be fair to herself… maybe not twice his size, but she had definitely at least
slowed down
men twice his size with that move. 

Aside from a brief hesitation, he seemed to not even notice. 

Any self-respecting…male, would have at least shaken her off…or SOMETHING. But he just…kept walking.  Big Bastard!

“Put me down.”  She fumed.

He kept walking¸ as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I said…PUT…ME DOWN!” she stiffened her legs and jerked.

“
(Be still female.  You are slight, but the sun is draining and we have far to go.  We’ll rest later, but for now…Be still!)” 
He punctuated his command with a slight squeeze of her thigh.

“What the hell are you saying?”  Leo demanded.  Her frustration growing as he continued to ignore her. 

She was
not
feeling her return to the world of helplessness.  Why did he have to be so damned big!

“Fine…carry me!  If I have to go with you, then at least you’ll be tired when we get there!”

She let her weight hang, the only thing keeping her legs from slipping down his sides was his arm wrapped snugly around them.  She was sooo…not gonna make her kidnapping easy for him.  If he wanted to carry her—well, hell—let him carry her.  She’d be as dead a weight as she could possibly manage; besides, she needed to conserve her energy.  Fighting and railing obviously had no effect what so ever, so stealth, cunning, and saving the energy for running away was her only foreseeable mode of escape, since she’d ever be able to physically over-power him.  She’d wait, and when the opportunity came, she’d bolt.  Until then, she might as well enjoy the ride.

Or no
t… 

They’d been walking for
hours
.  Leo’Nya could feel her skin reddening beneath the merciless sun.  Her throat had long since dried, making conversation impossible.  Not that you could call the one sided chatter that she’d entertained herself with ‘conversation’.  She’d long since given up trying to reason with him and had resorted to singing to herself to pass the time. 

He hadn’t even once struggled to hold her, or even acknowledged that she was still there, and with the constant swaying and heat from the sun, she fought to keep from drifting into lethargic unconsciousness.  She felt the early effects of dehydration.  She hadn’t had any water in over twenty-four hours, and this long walk through the dessert was slowly draining the last of her energy.

“Water…” the request passed her dry lips in barely a whisper.  “I need water…please.”  Each word felt like sandpaper in her throat.  Eyes closing, her head dropped to his shoulder.  When were they going to stop?  Land stretched for miles, uninterrupted by any form of shade or shelter, and it seemed that he intended to use the entire thirty-six hours of sunlight to travel.  He gave no indication that he even felt the heat.  Aside from the warmth of his skin beneath her cheek, he appeared to be otherwise unaffected.

Her arms dropped weakly to her sides.  Well, so much for out lasting him. 
This is so unfair…
 

She couldn’t hold onto the heat of her frustration, lethargy draining the energy for even that.  This was a battle she just couldn’t win, even if she had the energy to fight it.

There’s no shame in dying of dehydration…
was her last thought as she plummeted into darkness.

She woke to cool darkness. 

The soothing cool of the ground pressed against her back.  She wasn’t ready to wake up.  She wanted to linger in this drifting peace.  She should be concerned. A warning skated somewhere along the edges of her consciousness. She should be concerned, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to feel alarm.  It felt too good to just float in this cool, dark oblivion. 

A fat drop of something splashed against her dry and cracked lips, followed quickly by another and another.  She parted her lips, allowing a slow steady trickle to enter and absorb into her sore, parched, mouth.  It slid across her swollen tongue and down her throat.  Water had never tasted so sweet.  The flow ceased only to be replaced by a cloth soaked with more of the same delicious nectar.  It pressed against her lips, urging her to suckle greedily, grasping the hand that kept it anchored there.  She couldn’t bear to have it taken away, not yet.

“Slow… “

Her eyes flew open at the softly growled words.  Erol crouched on all fours, his body held above her--guilt eating him--as she clutched convulsively at his wrist.  He drew it away from her, wincing at her wounded whimpers.

“Please…” she cried softly, weakly reaching for the cloth held just above her lips.