Teyas, but now that Winn stood in front of her making demands, it all rushed back. She was far from home, and had no idea how to return – or if return was even possible.
“Women of my time take care of themselves. We don’t have men telling us what to do all the time. We call men like you chauvinist pigs,” she whispered. His eyes narrowed into slits.
“My men watch, Tentay teh. When they watch, you must…obey.”
She clenched her teeth and opened her mouth to protest, but this time he covered it with his hand.
“When they watch, you obey,” he repeated, slower this time. She nodded, and he let his hand drop from her mouth. “It is the way of this time, and my right as your captor.”
“Am I a prisoner?” she whispered.
“I found you. It is my right to keep you as a slave if I choose. Or I may give you away to one of my men...if you do not please me.” He held her face with his hands so she could not look away. “Do you understand?”
She did not answer, but held his gaze.
“My men seek women to share their furs after the hunt. It is what we do when we return. I would keep you with me now.”
“And if I run?”
“Do not run.”
She followed his logic and could make no response. She thought her silence would pacify him, but it only seemed to agitate him further. He carried her from the creek then, passing the group of warriors with a nod and making his way back to his yehakin .
A fire in the hearth greeted them, and Maggie’s bundle of bandages lay next to the fur-sleeping mat. She reached for the bundle, knowing her dressing needed to be changed and the wound cleaned, but afraid to make her request known to Winn. The man was frustrating beyond measure, and she had no idea why he fascinated her so much. Why on Earth had she let him kiss her? Had time travel warped her brain?
She peered at him from the corner of her eye as she pretended to study the bandages. His confidence alone was enough to send even a modern woman into a swoon. Tight sinews flexed in his limbs as he bent to remove his leggings, then stood and dropped his wet breechcloth to the floor. She glimpsed a dark winding tattoo from one hip to his tapered navel, and gritted her teeth as she quickly turned her back, noting that his flaming eyes met her own before she cowered.
Damn him and his freaking God-like body.
She sat down with her back to him and began to unroll the bandages, the motion echoing the unraveling of her senses. What did he plan to do with her? When he spoke of the men looking for women to share their beds, did he mean he would share hers as well?
She stiffened and closed her eyes when he placed a hand on her shoulder from behind, the scent of evergreen and sweat that was distinctly him invading her senses. True, no other man had ever made her feel so desired, but it was not enough to cause her to surrender what remained of her innocence. She was trapped in the past, but she still knew who she was, and she was not a woman to fall into bed with some handsome stranger on a whim.
His fingers kneaded her shoulders, and she bit back a moan as his fingertips brushed over her skin. When he untied the laces of her dress from her nape, she hardened her resolve before she lost herself completely. She held the dress up with her fists pressed into her breasts before it fell away. She would not let him continue without resistance.
“I will fight you,” she whispered. His fingers paused the gentle massage for a moment at her words, then resumed a lazy rhythm. She remained there unmoving, knowing she could not outrun him, but sure that she could at least hurt him in some way.
“Be still.” She felt his breath hot against her neck and the command chilled her, but she obeyed it as she awaited his next move. He tugged at the binding of her wound dressing and she wondered briefly why he needed it off if he meant to rape her.
“I can’t,” she replied as tremors shook her body.
He removed the remnants of the
Michael Pearce
James Lecesne
Esri Allbritten
Clover Autrey
Najim al-Khafaji
Amy Kyle
Ranko Marinkovic
Armistead Maupin
Katherine Sparrow
Dr. David Clarke