Lisa Childs - Resurrection

Her hand clutched his thigh, her nails digging into his skin—marking him as he wanted to mark her—as his.

She turned her head, her soft hair brushing his chest. Then her lips followed, trailing across his skin as she pleaded again. “Don’t hurt me…”

He understood her. From the invaders who had come before, he had picked up the language. But that wasn’t the only thing he had learned from those earlier visitors. He had learned that the ones with the pale skin were not to be trusted.

Kill her quickly…

The Wise One’s voice grew fainter in his head, drowned out by her soft whisper. “Please…” The warmth of her lips brushed his skin again.

Beat, beat, beat… The drums, pounding out the war cry, reminded him of his mission. He stepped back, releasing her so abruptly that she dropped to her knees on the sand again. Then he raised the spear. If his people had any chance of defeating the invaders, this sorceress could not live.

She lifted her face toward him. Tears shimmered in her light blue eyes; one broke free and trembled on her thick black lashes. “Don’t kill me. I’ll do anything…you want me to…”

He had never seen such beauty. Her hair, her face, her body…she seemed too perfect to be of this world. To be real. Unable to help himself, he reached out to touch her hair again. Soft pale gold tendrils tangled around his fingers; he clenched his hand in her hair.

She turned her head, and her lips glided across his forearm. “I’ll do anything…”

She reached out, sliding her hands up his thighs to the loincloth under which his erection throbbed. Her fingers closed around him, and he jerked.

“I can be your woman,” she offered. “I can pleasure you…” Her golden brows drew together over her light eyes, her unshed tears turning from terror to frustration. “You don’t understand me…”

Even if he hadn’t been able to comprehend what she was saying, her actions spoke louder than her words. She pushed aside the buckskin and leaned forward, brushing her lips along the length of his shaft.

His fingers, still clutching her soft hair, fisted. A woman had not touched him—in so long. And never like this…

As passion flooded him, his grip on the spear eased, and he buried the tip deep into the sand. As he wanted to bury himself inside her.

She closed her mouth around him, her teeth scraping over his most sensitive skin. Then he felt something else sharp, the point of a weapon at the base of his shaft.

She pulled back her head and lifted her face to his.

“You may not understand me, but you’ll understand this,” she said, her eyes glittering with determination and desperation as she increased the pressure of the weapon?literally threatening his manhood.

His body tensed even more as anger surged through him, along with the passion. She might not be a sorceress, as the Wise One had warned but the woman was definitely dangerous.

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