Quick, Amanda

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Authors: The Captive
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copy the last time she went to Partha. "What's wrong with poetry?" she
    asked defensively. He shrugged. "Nothing. I like it." "You?" His gaze settled on her, a challenge in their
    blue-gray depths. "Why not me?" "No reason, I just didn't think –" "Didn't think what? That a barbarian
    like me could appreciate it?" "Well, yes, something like that," she muttered, then felt her cheeks grow
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    even hotter as he opened the book and began to read aloud.
    There are ways to feel love to touch and taste love I feel her with my soul I have tasted her kiss with a
    simple breath filling me moving across my heart she touches… so lightly sending waves of pleasure that
    pulse through my core she lifts my pain… with her gentle laugh a simple 'hello' and my eyes fill with her
    sparkle there are ways to feel love … sharing a fear holding a thought … flowing in the softest silence
    where only the soul hears always with me is she… thank you… my angel for loving me…
    He looked at her over the edge of the book, one dark brow raised, and then he turned the page and
    began to read again. His voice was low and husky, mesmerizing, making her wonder what it would be
    like to have him read those same words to her, and mean them. …my whisper slips past hiding desire
    holding it fast this need to have this want to feel listen as you move… taste as you moan
    I want you please just once let me know your passion take me into your sweetest hold… our whispers
    mix with the night let's dance with pleasure see if the love covers as words push inside I love you you
    know this is true… so be with me let me have you
    Falkon swore under his breath as he closed the book and tossed it back to her. If there was one thing he
    didn't need, it was to waste his time reading romantic poetry to remind him of what he was missing, what
    he had lost. Ashlynne caught the book, almost dropping the controller as she did so. It occurred to her
    that remaining in Number Four's presence was the most dangerous thing she had ever done, far more
    dangerous than going swimming at midnight with Magny, or sneaking into the mine compound. There had
    been a door between them at the mine; nothing stood between them here but a few feet of space. It filled
    her with a sense of daring, being this close to Number Four, even as she assured herself there was
    nothing to be afraid of as long as she had the controller. Remembering how quickly Number Four had
    turned on Dain, she hadn't put it down for a moment. It gave her a sense of power, rather like the feeling
    she had when she rode Artemis in a headlong gallop down the beach. The mare was bigger, stronger,
    faster, yet she controlled it. Number Four's bold stare made her suddenly uncomfortable and she took a
    drink of water from the glass sitting on the rock beside her. Watching him over the rim of the glass, she
    saw him lick his lips and it occurred to her that he was probably thirsty. It was unseasonably warm, and
    he been working out in the hot sun since early that morning. Slipping off the rock, she stood up and held
    the glass out toward him. "Would you like a drink?" "No." "You must be thirsty." "I don't want anything
    from you or your people," he said brusquely. "Nothing except my freedom." "You'll never be free again."
    "And you'll never be anything but a spoiled, arrogant brat with too much time on her hands." He watched
    her cheeks grow red, felt himself tense in dreadful anticipation as her hand tightened on the controller.
    "Go ahead, do it," he challenged, and wondered what perverse devil had goaded him into saying such a
    thing. Ashlynne's thumb hovered over the top of the controller, but the memory of the pain that Dain had
    inflicted on Number Four stayed her hand, though why she should care if this odious creature suffered
    was far beyond her comprehension. He was a slave, after all, an enemy to her people, to everything

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