Ellora's Cavemen: Tales from the Temple II (18 page)

Delilah Devlin

wasn’t real. Unable to meet his stare while I confessed my intrusive behavior, my gaze dropped
to his broad, bronzed shoulders.

“I wondered if your body is as powerful as it appears.” Hesitantly, I smoothed my palms
over his warm, lightly furred chest and felt the muscles beneath my hands spasm. “Am I only
dreaming your body is this incredibly hard?”

He wasn’t unaffected. His chest rose and fell more quickly now. I was pleased my touch
inflamed him as well.

With my hands, I measured the breadth of his shoulders and followed the thickly corded
muscles of his arms downward. “You’ve led me, invoking my responses each time we’ve met, but
this is my dream. I would know if everything is as hard as it appears.” I noted his hands clenched
at his sides, and I smiled up at him. “Will my touch break your control? You’ve teased me, lured
me to the edge, and left me wanting. Can you resist me?”

I spread my hands on the defined ridges spanning his taut, narrow waist. Then I glided
downward, curving my fingers to rake the silky arrow of hair that broadened to frame his
immense manhood.

As I encircled his cock, his head fell back and his jaw clenched. Feeling powerful, I stepped
closer to press my aching breasts to his chest and slide my tongue along the crest of his shoulder.

He smelled of exotic incense and warm, musky man. My hands glided up and down on his
smooth, hard cock.

Suddenly, with a movement that left me gasping, his hands closed around my waist and he
lifted me high. I was exultant. Now, he would come inside me. Now, I would learn the promises
his body had hinted at—if only in my dreams. I clutched his shoulders and wrapped my legs
around his waist, and he lowered me, impaling my moist flesh.

I moaned and his mouth curved into a grim smile. His hands shifted to my buttocks—but he
held me still, while my vagina wept in anticipation of a vigorous coupling.

“Why won’t you move?” My body ached for fulfillment and I tightened my inner muscles
around him.

“Your password.” He clenched his teeth. “Give me what I want and I will finish this.”

The request jarred. But I was so lost in my flaming need, I ignored the warnings clamoring
in my mind. “This is my dream, my mind. I command you to take me.”

His eyes narrowed and his hands were hard steel bands anchoring me to his hips. “Do you?”

His expression challenged me to prove myself.

I faltered and a prickle of unease crept up my spine to lift the hairs on the back of my neck.

Khalim Padja of the Raptor clan, a Tirrekh warrior and the man embedded in my body, was a
murderer and a traitor to the Dominion. But what else might he be? Was he somehow making
this dream happen?

He’d been brought aboard my small transport ship, a cargo so precious and dangerous the
governor of the outlying fortress had refused to hold him long enough for a military transport to
arrive. I’d been promised a fortune to deliver him to the Dominion courts and assured his
suspension chamber would hold him safely.

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Raptor’s Prey

Before I slept in my own chamber for the duration of the month-long journey, I’d inspected
his, and checked to be certain the sleep inducements would last. But I’d been unable to resist a
thorough inspection of his body as he lay inside.

I was a woman who spent too many months alone aboard my ship in deep space, my
imagination my only company. And his body was beautiful. What harm would there be to look
and stroke my hands over his still flesh?

And I had, much to my shame.

But this dream was too vivid. Even for the elaborate fantasies I often built to while away the
days and weeks of my travels. His scent, his warm skin, his hard hands. His cock that stretched
me—achingly.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” I asked, afraid of the answer and his knowing smile, and
ashamed of my body’s creamy response. My lips trembled and his gaze fell to my mouth. I closed
my eyes.

“No. You’re not dreaming.” His mouth descended on mine and I was lost to his mastery.

His firm lips pressed mine and his tongue stabbed between my lips, sweeping over the roof of my
mouth, gliding along my tongue, inciting me to suck.

I moaned and my traitorous body released a fresh wash of liquid arousal.

He growled deep in his throat, and his hands squeezed my ass and lifted me, and then
pushed me down—moving me, finally, up and down his thick shaft.

Mindless now, I threw my head back and clutched his shoulders, my nails digging into his
skin as I climbed the precipice. “Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, harder.”

His body shuddered between my legs, and his hips joined our dance, working in
contradiction to the hands that directed my hips, pulling out as he lifted me, thrusting deeper as
he ground my cunt down his length. Deeper, harder, faster—until I shattered. My long, keening
cry ripped through the stillness around us.

When I opened my eyes, my head lay upon his shoulder, rising and falling with his ragged
breaths. Drowsy, sated, I was less afraid and less believing because I’d never experienced such
depth of passion in my life. I smoothed my cheek on his warm skin. “If this isn’t a dream, then
what is it?”

“A possession. You are mine.”

Irritation cooled my body. I unwrapped my legs from his waist, and he lowered me until my
feet sank into the sand. Although my knees trembled, I fisted my hands and stepped away from
him. “I’m no man’s possession. This hallucination ends now.”

“The choice isn’t yours.” His words, not spoken, echoed around me, inside me.

I pointed my finger at him. “You’re my prisoner.”

His arms folded over his chest. “Am I?” Again, a small, mocking smile curved the corners of
his lips.

“Damn you and your questions! I won’t let you change the course of this ship. I’ll never
give you my password,” I cried out, angry and frightened. Surely this was only a nightmare.

“Leave me.”

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Delilah Devlin

The sun glinted behind him, a corona so bright I raised my arm to shield my eyes. When I
opened them again, he was gone and a hawk perched upon my arm. The bird sat so calmly, I
wasn’t alarmed. “Is this a trick?” I shouted over the endless red peaks.

The bird stirred, drawing my attention. His golden, unblinking gaze held mine for a long
moment.

“Are you his, as well?” I dared to lift my hand and stroke the brown and black feathers on
his head. “Such a proud creature. You know you’re beautiful.” I stroked his chest and the action
calmed my heart. “I shouldn’t be dreaming. This is his doing, isn’t it?”

His talons pricked me and I raised my arm, hoping he’d take flight into the aqua sky. His
wings unfurled from his body and a gust of wind arose. He flapped, his talons now digging
painfully into my skin to keep his perch, then he flapped again, and his tawny wingtips fluttered
across my nipples. The sensation was ephemeral, but erotic, tightening the tips into buds, and I
gasped—

Andromeda O’Keefe choked. The aspirating tube had retracted and she was drowning.

“You’re coming out of suspension too quickly,” a deep voice, disembodied, came from beyond her gel-filled capsule.

She opened hers eyes, blinking against the light shining down through the clear hatch of her chamber and met a golden-eyed gaze. She recognized him instantly. Her prisoner was free!

She fought the urge to inhale more of the suspension gel and searched with her hands for the hood latch inside her chamber.

Before her hand connected with the latch, the panel popped and the dark-haired man tossed the hatch back and reached inside. A large, rough-skinned hand slid beneath her shoulders, another beneath her thighs, and he lifted her easily from her warm cocoon to the cooler air on the bridge of her ship.

Andromeda sucked in air and gagged. He knelt to lay her on the floor. Once her chest quieted, she realized her predicament. She was naked and wet, lying on her back with her prisoner Khalim Padja, also naked, standing over her. He held out his hand, palm up. Not an offer of aid. His implacable expression demanded she accept.

As she didn’t have a choice, she laid her hand in his and he drew her up. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her from disuse after her slumber. He’d obviously been free longer for he seemed to suffer no such weakness, and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Still coated with a thin film of suspension gel, her body aligned with his from breast to hip. Disturbingly, her mind recognized they fit together well—just as they had in her dreams. Her body seemed just as accustomed to his embrace, and she found herself instantly, embarrassingly, aroused. Would he notice how tightly her nipples puckered against his chest? She tilted her head back to gauge his reaction.

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Raptor’s Prey

A muscle in his jaw flexed and his nostrils flared. The heat in his dark gaze seared her. He’d worn the same expression in her dreams each time he’d seduced her. Oh God!

How could she have known what he looked like when aroused, unless they really had shared those experiences? She shuddered, fear and desire warring inside her body and mind.

His hand reached toward her face and she flinched.

“First, we bathe.” He smoothed back the strands of hair sticking to her cheek. “Then we’ll talk.”

Even his deep, rumbling voice was the same. With her heart pounding from the realization she was at the mercy of a murderer, Andromeda’s mind raced. “The shower stall is in my quarters.” She backed away from his hold. “I’ll show you.” Turning, she led the way down a narrow passage to her small, spartan room.

If she could get him inside the shower first and the door automatically entrapped him, she might have time to reach the weapons in the drawer beneath her bed. She couldn’t hope to overpower a warrior without armament.

Conscious of the tall, muscular body following a step behind her, she sighed with relief when she reached her room. She’d forgotten how small it was, until she realized he would have to pass between her narrow bed and the storage cabinets to reach the shower—and she blocked the way.

She stopped in front of the shower, pressed the button to open the stall, and then looked over her shoulder. “If you’ll step inside…”

“After you,” he said, his gaze boring into hers.

Andromeda pressed her lips together in frustration and nodded, then stepped inside, silently cursing. She hoped he wouldn’t poke around her things and find her cache of weapons while she bathed.

She needn’t have worried. Her breath caught on a gasp, when he joined her inside the stall and the door slid shut.

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Delilah Devlin

Khalim enjoyed his woman’s discomfort. Her back stiffened, almost as quickly as her nipples had when they’d grazed his chest. More intriguing, her shapely bottom quivered where his erection pressed against her. He’d conditioned her body well to accept the forced intimacy.

He reached over her shoulder and pressed the button to start the shower, having already acquainted himself with the functions of most of the conveniences and machinery aboard her ship. The nozzles erupted with a soft misting of warm water all around them.

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, her voice sounding strained.

“I can’t have you getting into mischief. For the time being, we’ll do everything together.” His lips curved when her body stiffened further and her shoulders rose and fell with angry breaths.

“The password. You’ve been after that all along,” she snapped.

He detected an underlying hurt. Perhaps a previous betrayal. He filed that knowledge away. “And you,” he replied, infusing silk and steel into his voice. “I’ve been after you, as well.” He tapped the soap dispenser, and lather joined the water jetting from all nozzles, except those aimed at their heads.

She snorted. “You planned to seduce me into changing the course of this ship, then what? Kill me?”

She was adorably, irritatingly, intense. “I’ve much more interesting things planned for you.” He braced apart his legs and grasped her hips, pulling her tightly to his groin.

Her body shivered—but not from fear. Her nipples rose to meet his palm, fitting into the hollow of his hand. “I won’t give my password to you.”

“You’re wrong. You’ll give me everything I want.” He dipped a hand into the shampoo well and foam squirted onto his palm.

When he smoothed it over her head, she jerked away—or as far as she could in the cramped stall. “I can do that myself. And keep your hands—and other parts—to yourself!”

He pulled her against his body again and continued to wash her hair. He counted it a victory when she remained rigid—but pressed intimately to his belly. “You enjoy it more when I wash you. Remember?” He closed his eyes and summoned the vision of his underground keep on Qihar-Jadiid. Although aware of his hands massaging her scalp in her cramped shower, he brought Andromeda to the large, oval bathing pool in his quarters.

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Raptor’s Prey

Instantly her body relaxed, becoming liquidly pliable, as she leaned back against his chest. In this dream-share state she always eagerly accepted his lead. He understood her subconscious refused to believe their travels were real—therefore, she could indulge in fantasy.

They reclined on the edge of the shallow pool. She was seated on his lap, her head lay upon his shoulder. Light from phosphor-pots illuminated the gold flecks swimming in the ruby-glass walls of his abode. Her body shimmered in the golden light.