Captured by Melinda Barron Read Free Book Online Page B

stuck her for the rest of her life. No, not that, for the rest of eternity, which, as Mrs. Westergard had told her, meant forever.
    Tears formed in her eyes, and before she could stop them, a few crept down her cheeks; the first few became a small stream, and the stream turned into a river. She buried her face in her hands, wondering how she’d ever allowed herself to sit and play games when she should have been trying to convince him to take her back to the place where she’d landed, see if she could find a way home.
    When warm, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders she didn’t fight him. She put her head on his shoulder, the crying jag continuing as he picked her up and carried her to the bed, gently placing her in the middle.
    Venise continued to sob as he arranged the furs around her, then lay down and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t care they were in bed together, or that his hard cock demanded attention. All she cared about was the warm body next to her that reminded her she was alive—in hell, but alive.
    She wondered vaguely how he’d handled his time here when he’d first arrived, but when he started to stroke her hair and murmur soft words that she was sure were meant to soothe her, she closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her.
    * * * *
    He could feel her pain, seeping out from her skin into his heart. The evening had seemed so perfect, with the two of laughing and enjoying the game. It had been so long since he’d felt the pain and fear that came with his banishment.
    The memories of his first nights in this place came back full force, slamming into his brain. He’d been scared at first, wondering if he’d been sucked into the underworld after the witch had killed him. Then the food had appeared and it had become painfully obvious. He’d tried to find a way out, to no avail.
    And then he’d come to terms with his imprisonment, although it hadn’t been easy. There had been times when he thought he would lose his mind. The only thing that kept him sane was the knowledge that there might be some way out of here, at some time. Was the woman he held right now his way out, or was she some ugly trick the witch played on him?
    The answers would come in time, he knew. And they had lots of time. But first, he had to help her come to terms with what was happening to her. But how could he do it when they couldn’t even speak? She’d reacted well when he’d taken her in his arms; at least she hadn’t hit him.
    The only problem was his manhood, already swollen, had throbbed with the need to seek out her soft, feminine center and make her his own. The thought of thrusting in and out of her made his flesh harder, and made him want to climb on top of her and bury himself inside her.
    No! You can’t do that. What would she think of you if you did that? She’d hate you, and try to hit you again. But did it matter? She was his, after all. She was in his bed. In his world, he would claim her, no matter what her needs or desires.
    After all, she was a gift from the witch, wasn’t she? But what if she wasn’t? What if Venise was just someone who had fallen into this world by mistake? If that were so, he couldn’t take her, because she might disappear. Right now, he didn’t really remember what it was like to take a woman. If he took her, and then she vanished, he was sure he would die.
    At least in his mind. His body would live on, in torment with the memory of her soft body accepting him inside her. Staying down here by himself was torment enough, but having those thoughts to torture him would make it even worse.
    It took him a few moments to realize she was no longer sleeping. He’d felt her drift off when her crying had slowed, but now her breath was coming in normal rhythm. She hadn’t moved out of his arms, however.
    “Rugoff?”
    His body flinched as she put her hand on his stomach and lifted up enough to look him in the eye, then sat up fully. The movement pushed back the sheets and her gaze