Grace Goodwin - His Virgin Princess

She nodded, the long swing of her hair sliding over her bare shoulder. “Yes.”

I lowered her to the ground, shocked to find a thick blanket spread beneath us. The fabric was striped, and soft, warm to the touch despite the chill in the air. “What is this?”

“Flannel stuffed with down. It’s from my bed. My dream, remember?”

I settled her on the dark blue and red blanket. “Is this where you are now, mate? In your bed?”

Her gaze grew dark and serious. “You know I’m not.”

“Where are you?” I asked. I shouldn’t. I knew the answer would enrage me, make me feel helpless. If we were dream sharing, she wasn’t at the Touchstone. She was nearby.

“I’m safe. That’s all you need to know.”

Her words settled me and my gaze wandered back over her curves, the thin line of her body and small breasts. She was not soft, but lean. Strong. So beautiful. The scent of her wet core drifted from her body, made my mouth water. I ran my hand over her breasts. Her curved waist. Her hips. Lower.

“Gage.” She arched off the ground as I lowered my mouth to her clit, sucking her essence into my body so I would never forget her taste. Her scent. Carefully, I slipped one finger into her tight pussy and groaned as her body clamped down on it like a fist.

“Mine,” I breathed against her tender flesh.

“Yes.”

I spread the soft lips of her pussy open to my eyes and feasted, tasting and sucking, flicking her sensitive clit with my tongue as I worked my finger in and out of her wet heat, rubbing the inner walls of her pussy as I expertly pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

Her fingers buried in my hair and she cried out, her scream echoing off the canyon walls below us as she came, her pussy bucking and milking my finger, hungry for my hard cock.

I was hard, even though I’d just come down her throat. Hot. My cock so heavy it felt like I’d hung weights from the damn thing between my legs. I wanted her. Needed her.

Her hair spread out around her head like a halo. Her lips were full and ripe from my kisses. Her pale skin was flushed, her eyes shone with passion, lust, and unrestrained pleasure. She looked like a goddess. My goddess.

“I want you, Dani. To be inside you. To fuck you. Make you mine.”

With a smile, she spread her legs, exposing her wet, pink pussy. She might be a virgin, but she knew her passionate nature, didn’t hide from it. Or me.

“Yes.” She pushed against the ground with her feet, lifting her hips in eager invitation.

And cried out in pain, reached for her ankle. “Damn it!”

Reaching for her, I pulled her into my arms, cradling her, looking over every inch of her small body. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“No. It’s just an old injury…shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m waking up. I’m sorry. It hurts too much.”

“What? Dani?”

The mountain faded. She disappeared and I woke, chained. Bleeding. Dying. Cold. Left for dead in a mountain cave so remote no one would find me in time. My cock? Hard as a rock, but my heart breaking, the imagined taste of her lingering on my tongue.

Dani, Planet Everis, Exact location unknown

There he was. After hours of hiking since I woke up, my body aching with need from the steamy bout of dream sharing, I finally found him. Followed my innate sense as a Hunter descendant, the heart-sense of a Marked Mate searching for the other half of her soul. My heart was frantically beating out of my chest at the sight of him. I saw the rusty chain affixed to the wall, curling across the floor and beneath him. Light-years from Earth, this was the perfect male for me. Warden Egara and the testing knew it. I knew it. I was sweating from my trek, but I shivered in the cave.

This hellhole. He’d been left to suffer. Die.

No one would have found him. Ever. Only me, only his Marked Mate because of our connection. The mark on my palm flared with heat and I hissed at the feel of it. A moan came from his injured form, knowing he felt the same sensation. My presence.

I closed the distance between us and pulled the huge drop bolt from the rusted metal cage door holding him. I threw the long chunk of heavy metal as far as I could and pulled the door open, dropping to my knees before him. My ankle screamed a protest, but I ignored it completely. I’d survive, but Gage? I wasn’t sure the extent of his injuries.

He sat on the hard ground, his back to the bare stone behind him. Chains hung from well over his head, outside the cage, out of reach, the dark metal links attached to manacles on his wrists. He was asleep, or unconscious. I wasn’t sure which, his body limp and his arms loose, manacles in his lap. His face, god, his beautiful face was bruised, his lip swollen, blood soaking his hair to run down his temple. I reached out, cupped his shoulder. He was cold, his bare chest covered in blood and burns, his skin like ice. They’d left his pants on, but his feet were bare as well and freezing. A thick jacket was on the ground just out of his reach. It was the same style the Hunters wore at the Touchstone, although filthy.

“Gage.” When he didn’t respond, I shook him. “Gage!”

I knew he was alive, knew because of the mark, his response to our marks being in such close proximity.

“Dani?”

“I’m here. Come on, wake up.”

I felt him stiffen, perhaps finally realizing he wasn’t dreaming, that I really was before him, urging him to move.

“Dani?” he asked again, this time his eyes cleared, widened. He groaned through gritted teeth. His dark pants were torn everywhere, dried blood clearly caked into the fabric in multiple places. I took a better look at his torso, the power and muscle covered in cuts, burns and blood. He looked like he’d been through hell, but I had no idea if everything was superficial, or if he was bleeding on the inside, too. Broken ribs? Bleeding kidneys? He was a mess, and seeing him injured made every cell in my body scream in denial.

He was mine. This could not be allowed. “You’re a mess.”

“Why are you here?” he countered, drawing his knees up toward his chest. We stared at each other, our gazes roaming. He was big. So very big, even sitting with his knees tucked up. His dark hair was long enough that it curled slightly over his ears, was thick, and I wanted to bury my fingers in it, learn the texture of him. A beard had begun to grow on his square jaw. Even in the dim light that came from the cave entrance, I could see the color of it was a touch redder than the nearly black hair on the top of his head. His lip was not only swollen, it was cut and bleeding. His face was thinner than in my dreams, as if he hadn’t eaten enough for a few days, but his eyes pierced me, held me in place. A predator’s eyes. Focused completely on me, taking in every detail, missing nothing. His gaze lingered on my ankle, on the tilt of my hips as I kept weight off it. It was like he could read my mind, knew my body already, was attuned to me.

His eyes were almost black, piercing in their intensity. I recognized him, not just from the dreams we shared, but in my heart, in my very DNA.

He was studying me just as closely and lifted his hand to reach out to me, but he let it drop.

“Are you real?” His voice was rough, dry. “Or am I dreaming?”

I tugged off my backpack, pulled out a canteen, removed the lid and handed it to him. “Real. Drink.”

He took it, swallowing the water greedily. How long had he been in this cave? Had he not had any food or water in days? As he drank, I glanced about. He’d been left in an abandoned cave, large enough for four or five men to walk side-by-side. I could easily stand at the entrance. If I put my arms up, I wouldn’t be able to touch the roof. The floor was stone, dirt and dead leaves covering the cold gray rock like a rotting carpet. We were about fifteen feet from the entrance, the daylight muted by the thick stone walls. I could hear water dripping in the distance, a gentle plop, plop. The chains holding him were large, heavy, but old and rusted, stained by the patina of age. The metal loops and bolts in the walls had been in place for a long time, as if Gage wasn’t the first to be brought here. To be tortured and neglected until dead.