MatingRitual (3 page)

“What are we to do, Kella?”

Dragging her gaze from the breadth of her captor’s shoulders
as he strutted away and struggling against the tremors that roiled through her
limbs, Kella met her friend’s watery eyes. “There is nothing we can do, Marte,”
she whispered. She turned her gaze back and watched the big dark men disappear
into a stone building, listening to quiet sobs of despair from the other bound
women. “They are too strong, too many in numbers.”

“We must plan an escape! How are we ever to find ourselves
free of this place?”

Kella’s gaze rested on Marte’s hands tied above her head and
yearned to comfort the younger woman who trembled violently. “I wish for
nothing more. If a chance arises, we will be gone. All we can do is wait and
hope.” She said the words to comfort her friend, but Kella already understood
there was only a slim possibility it could happen.

They would be watched far too closely and no tribeswomen had
ever returned from the Stonemen’s capture. All she could really hope for was a
quick death for all of them.

* * * * *

It took all of Kella’s strength to remain standing and not
hang limply as most of the imprisoned women were now doing. She cursed the men
who had taken them even as her head dipped forward with weariness. Marte was
silent and had been for the last hour. With the temperature dropping, Kella’s
exposed skin rippled with goose bumps and her nipples stood erect.

A door flung open somewhere and bawdy laughter echoed across
the market’s center. Kella slowly lifted her eyes, blinking against her
exhaustion as a crowd of men led by her captor stumbled toward them.

She drew in a ragged breath, steeling herself against the
unease that streaked through her blood. She straightened her shoulders and
waited. She would remain brave to the end.

Jaggar and the group of men halted before them. His gaze
swept the length of Kella’s body then flowed over the quietly whimpering women.
“I will take the one I have claimed,” he declared. “You all can fight over the
others.”

The men moved forward as one and the many whimpers turned to
wails of fear and despair.

Jaggar pulled the sheathed knife from his side and cut the
taut rope above Kella’s head, leaving her wrists still bound. She stood
silently, lowered her hands and rebelliously remained upright, though she
swayed with exhaustion as stinging pain whipped from her shoulders to her
wrists.

Kella locked her knees, refusing to give in to the violent
quaking that threatened to overtake. She pursed her lips, ignoring their
dryness. She’d had nothing to eat or drink since racing from the pond. She
would not give in to her fears or to this massive Stoneman before her. Try as
she might, however, she could not ignore Marte’s sobs as the huge oaf called
Crete claimed her as his. There was nothing she could do but watch as her
friend’s legs were forced apart by a warrior’s hand. It dipped beneath the
woman’s sarong while he roughly covered her lips with his to silent her
frightened whimpers. Again, the strange custom of lips against lips.

Kella’s eyes moved to meet her captor’s. “Tell him to stop!”

Jaggar’s arched brows rose with surprise. “Tell him to stop?
I think not. She is his and he can do what he desires. That is our way.”

She met Marte’s frightened gaze to lend strength. It was all
she could do as Crete’s mouth moved from Marte’s lips to nip at the terrified
woman’s exposed skin of her neck. The warrior’s large hands played over the
feminine angles from shoulders to thighs and back again.

Marte sobbed out. “Please…stop! Kella, help me…he will kill
me!”

“Silence!” Crete ordered.

Over and over the man’s tongue assaulted Marte’s mouth.
Finally his lust calmed as he withdrew his hands and glanced sideways at
Jaggar. “She will do fine. She is young and firm and will bear children well.”

Kella watched in stunned silence as Marte’s tether was
sliced. The woman was hauled over the warrior’s shoulder, and then they
disappeared into the darkness. Bear children? No Magya woman was allowed to
bear children no matter the mate unless they were a chosen one. The clanswomen
always submitted to the sex, quiet and docile. It was their way. But produce a
child when the Purification Rite had not been performed? Her heart sank. They
would all die, either at the hands of the Stonemen or the wrath of Magya gods.

Her attention snapped back to her own captor as he cupped
her upper arm tightly and yanked her in the opposite direction.

Jaggar kept the fingers of one hand locked around her upper
arm as he shouldered open the heavy wooden door to his home. Her muscles
flinched with another round of resistance and she refused to enter into the
warmth.

“I’ve had enough of your refusals,” he stated firmly as his
hand snaked through the air to tangle in her hair. Kella squealed more in
opposition than pain when he forced her through the entry and slammed the door
behind him. Though she continued to fight him, she was alert enough to spy a
crackling fire in a rock hearth as he kept her stumbling past wide-eyed
servants and up a stone stairway to the second level. At the top they rounded a
corner. Jaggar again shouldered a door open and forcibly guided Kella across
the threshold and into his sleeping quarters. Once the door was slammed shut by
a quick kick of his heel, he untangled his fingers from her hair. Kella raced
to the far side of the room, rubbing her tender scalp and keeping a close eye
on him.

She crouched against the far wall, waiting to see what would
happen next as the hulk of a man silently stared at her. She would not back
down. He finally turned and reached up high to pull a wooden latch into place,
eyeing her closely. Kella’s heart rapped inside her chest.

A lurid smile curved his lips. “To assure you do not race
from my embrace, although my servants will stand guard on the lower level the
entire night. You will not be leaving. Now,” he said as she watched him bend
down and untie the leather straps of his tanned footwear, “you will bathe
before we begin. You are covered with blood and dirt.”

When he stepped to the middle of the room, Kella curled
tighter against the wall. Frightened now, she watched him shed his shirt, his
banded muscles flexing beneath the sheen of dark skin in the fire’s flickering
glow. Her captor was the largest man she’d ever encountered, yet he moved with
the grace of a sleek cat. Her eyes widened when he pulled the tie from his hair
and shook the substantial length of black hair until it flowed heavy past his
shoulders. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed the lump in her throat when
he shed his strange leggings. As he tossed them away, her wide-eyed gaze
anchored to the thick cock he stroked. Before her eyes, it grew harder until it
poked upward from the mass of dark curls surrounding it. The bulbous dark-purple
tip shined with dampness. She knew what would happen. Mating was something done
to her since she’d been a very young woman. It was her clan’s way. But his size
and breadth was frightening. The imminent path to her death was about to begin.

“I have been hard for most of the day. It will feel good to
bury myself in your woman’s body.” He crossed the room and stood before a
wooden tub with his hand out. Above the water, mounted candles on the wall
flickered gently and cast a glow across his shoulders. “Come. I will help you
bathe.”

Kella’s eyes widened in fear. Steam whispered into the air
from the heated water. He’d had this planned before even bringing her to his
home. He must be a man held in highest esteem among his people. Servants to do
his bidding? A home with two levels and big enough to house many families at
once? How could she ever escape to join her clan again?

“Come, woman. I will not hurt you if you obey. You are mine
and I will have none of your stubbornness. Where others most likely are being
forced to submit as we speak, I will be gentle with you in hopes you will
accept my embrace. For it will happen, have no doubts.”

His soothing voice confused her. It was not the same that
earlier declared she would beg to have him crawl between her legs, yet she
would not give in easily to allow him to grunt over her back. She was Magya and
mating with a Stoneman would be horrific. Her gods would not look down
favorably at her.

She raced for the door when he took a step in her direction.
But there was no way out of his den. He advanced one determined step after
another until he easily plucked her off her feet. Before she knew it, she hung
over his shoulder. Kella kicked and swung her fists, but he quickly imprisoned
her flailing legs and marched back to the strange round tub as she beat against
his back. Before she could escape, he dumped her into the center. She sputtered
and scraped away wet strands of hair that stuck to her face as she fought to
keep her head above water. Her vision cleared to see him standing beside her
with a cloth in one hand. Kella cringed when he knelt beside the tub, knowing
she had pushed too far. She tensed, waiting for the back of his hand.

“What is your name?”

Her eyes opened. No beating? She stared sullenly and lifted
her chin. Her lips pursed tightly. Kella pushed a fine line of life and death,
but she no longer cared.

He sighed. “I am Jaggar. I am an esteemed warrior of the
Stonemen. I can have any woman I choose before any other man makes his
decision, so I have decided you will be my mate. Now what is your name?” His
hand reached out to brush his fingertips across the soft skin of her exposed
shoulder. She flinched, but still he did not beat her. That simple fact amazed
Kella. Instead his caress was soft and gentle. No man had ever treated her this
kindly. It was like how a woman would tenderly treat a child.

“Your name, woman. I would like to hear it now.”

Her gaze followed the roughened fingertips as they brushed
down her arm and came to stop at her wrist. Slowly he turned her palm up and
traced a pattern in its center. This Jaggar was a Shaman for there could be no
other reason her fear retreated.

“Your name…” His warm breath feathered across her skin. “I
will persist until you tell me.”

She looked up into his glittering eyes. His dark gaze did
not frighten her as it had before. As she stared she blinked to clear her
vision, but still his eyes burned from within. Was it his wizardry? No. She
finally realized the luminescent glow she studied was a reflection from the
candles behind her.

“Woman, I ask again.”

She had no choice.

“Kella,” she uttered softly.

“Kella.” He smiled, his full lips creasing his face, his
dark features softening even more. “Kella of the white hair. Kella of eyes the
color of the sky.” He reached to touch a wet tress that curled around one
covered breast. “A beautiful name. And a beautiful body to go with it.” His
dark head tilted as he studied her wary expression. “I would like to see that
body again. Remove your sarong.”

Kella flailed against the water’s surface to put as much
distance as possible between them. The back side of the tub cupped her body. “I
will not,” she hissed while clutching at her sarong. This Shaman, this holy man
could not be trusted.

“You will,” he returned.

Her lips pursed in refusal and she glared back at him.

His hands snaked out and the former gentle glitter in his
eyes turned ominous. With a jerk, he hauled her from the tub as water splashed
over the edges and across the stone floor. Kella fought with all her might but
it only took one rendering tear for Jaggar to rip the wet sarong from her body.
Her scream of outrage was silenced when she hit the water once more.

She floundered in the tub, struggling to regain her balance
and again scrape the wet hair from her face. Once she swiped the water from her
eyes, she looked up to see his massive legs in a wide stance, muscled arms
crossed over a broad chest and a thunderous expression on his face. His cock
throbbed hard where it poked from between his legs. Kella’s eyes widened in
shock before she spun in the water and turned her back to him.

His next words struck a chord of fear that trickled up her
spine.

“I could pull you from the water, yank your legs apart and
mate you until morning if I wanted to.”

Kella clutched her arms over her chest as her chin fell.
Stifling a sob, she realized he was right. He could do anything to her. She was
powerless against his massive size and strength. Her mind fluttered to the
other women of her tribe and she wondered how they fared. There was a good chance
that before morning’s light, more than one would most likely be dead.

Kella’s eyes squeezed tightly with indecision. Her thoughts
floundered in her brain, her stomach churned. She took a deep breath, and then
another. Her God would hopefully see past the mating and realize she and her
clanswomen had no choice but to submit. If bred, she would deal with it because
come morning, Kella was suddenly determined to be among the living. She would
not give up her quest to escape—no matter what.

She heard him move behind her and tensed…waiting to see what
would happen next.

“Turn around, woman.”

Again she gulped in air to fill her lungs and clear her
head. To fulfill her vow, she would have to face him. Yes, she would be alive
when the sun crested in the east. Slowly she turned in the tub, careful to keep
her breasts hidden beneath the water line and shielded by her arms, although
she doubted it would help her plight at all.

He dipped a cloth into an oily substance and handed it to
her. “Take this. Bathe for me. Your skin is stained with old blood.”

A sweet scent drifted up from the cloth. It reminded her of
being in the forest. It reminded her of her clan and her vow to remain among
the living.

Kella had no choice. Tentatively she took the rag from his
hand and slowly scrubbed her arms and legs, ignoring how the oil burned into
the deep scratches from earlier. She eyed him warily. He did not seem as
threatening as of a moment earlier and she continued with her bath, her mind in
a flurry and already thinking of ways to escape. Once she was done, she let the
cloth float into the water and immediately covered her breasts with her arms
again, straining against the edge of the tub when he bent closer and silently
dipped a waterskin to fill it.

“What are you doing?” she queried as he stood tall.

She sputtered in surprise when with a flip of his broad
wrist, a flood of water cascaded over her head. As she swiped at her face and
struggled to clear her vision again, her entire body started when he began to
work a small amount of the sweet-smelling oil into her long tresses. No man had
ever done such a thing. It was unheard of. Over and over his strong fingers
massaged her scalp, building the discord inside her head and in the pit of her
belly. No one had touched her this gently since her mother. And many years had
passed since the woman’s death. He urged her backward over his bent arm and
gently rinsed the oil until the strands squeaked with cleanliness.

“Now was that so bad?” he asked softly, then continued
before she uttered a sound. “The feel of your hair is like nothing I’ve ever
encountered. It’s soft, thick, and I cannot see the waves any longer with the
wetness, but my fingers feel them. I know they will reappear once your tresses
dry.

Kella was speechless. He silently urged her to stand by
cupping his large hands under her armpits. A moment later she stood in the
cooling water.

“Spread your legs. I will wash you.”

“I… I can—”

“You can do as I have ordered. Do not fight me, Kella. It
will be a waste of time.”

Her jaw tightened, her stance firmed with her refusal. Kella
had no clue where her courage sprang from. She would never do anything but what
was ordered for her by a Magya clansman. That was the way she lived and how all
Magya women lived. They obeyed without question. They hoped to be a chosen one.
But this Stoneman? Here she was, mesmerized by the sheer size of the man before
her, one who touched her as she’d never been touched. But it was fruitless to
play the game. If she did not obey, her life would end shortly.

Lifting her chin and hugging her chest tightly, Kella
widened her stance.

Once more he worked the oil into the cloth, then reached
between her thighs and gently washed her cunt, carefully spreading her nether
lips to drag the soft rag through her slit.

Heat coursed through Kella’s belly, heat like she had never
experienced. The strange sensation held her captive, heated further, then
spread upward to her breasts as he worked the rag between her ass cheeks and
thoroughly washed her. Her gaze fell to his huge cock that pulsed with a life
of its own. She hated those man parts because they did nothing but inflict
pain. And her captor’s? It was far bigger than any other that she’d
encountered. This was how she would die. His cock would rip her body in two.
She would die screaming with the pain of it as he forced it inside. Yet his
magic held her in a trance and all she could do was submit.

Jaggar pulled his hand away, added more oil to the cloth and
now lathered her breasts. A waxy film soon covered them. He tossed the rag
aside, his hands swirled around peaked nipples, plucking at them occasionally
until they spiked harder, then back to massage the ample mounds resting in his
palms.

She struggled against the unfamiliar fire he built. She
should shriek her hatred and fear, but instead nothing would have pleased her
more than to have his hand washing between her thighs once again. The Stoneman
created magic for sure. Kella became more powerless with each gentle caress.

“Sit and rinse yourself.”

Kella’s blue eyes widened when she realized he’d stepped
away. Her lips parted in amazement. It was magic for sure.

Obediently, she sank into the water and scooped the warm
liquid over her skin until the waxy film of soap disappeared. Kella had
discovered his touch did not bring pain, but instead mystically fanned the
heated spot between her legs. And when the touch of his hand drifted from her
breast, the remembered sensation left behind a warm ache that consumed her
weary brain. Her breaths hitched inside her chest as she thought about the
coming hours, trying to grasp at the unfamiliar emotions his touch evoked.

She had never been treated gently—never mated with kindness.
It simply was not done that way among her people. Never had she thought of
mating as anything but an act of scorned submissiveness and a way to increase
the Magya’s numbers, or for the warrior’s pleasure. Her tribesmen were the
means that kept the women safe and alive. It was learned at a young age women
were dutiful and her tribesmen could take any female they wanted at any time
and mate. It was only when a female was chosen for the Purification Rite that
her place was elevated within the clan and no other male had the right to point
to the ground and wait for her to open her body to him.