War King's Captive, page 6
“Take care of him,” the man holding her snarled to the other three.
As soon as they were between her and Theo, she was tossed over his shoulder, the air she’d managed to pull into her lungs, leaving in a rush at the impact.
“Little girl, you better get out here or I’ll have them slit your throat.”
Jo dug her nails into his side and kicked her feet as best she could with the way he’d wrapped his arm around her knees. He hit her hard on her bottom, and she went wild. She dug for blood, scratching and clawing at him. His shirt came untucked and she glimpsed a sheathed dagger. She almost had enough time to grasp it before she was flung aside, hitting the floor hard.
“Stupid whore.”
He drew his fist back, ready to strike her when Theo stepped in front of her. She heard a high-pitched scream that turned to a gurgling then a snap. Silence filled the hall for a moment before a small body streaked from the shadows and landed on Jo’s lap. Little arms wrapped around her as Alice clung, hiding her sobs in Jo’s chest.
“Shh,” Jo crooned to the little girl. “I told you he’d save us.”
Theo stood over them, chest heaving as he stared at her. She glanced toward where three of the men who had attacked him were strewn across the floor and gagged, turning her head quickly away from the carnage. Her gaze flew back up to him. Blood was splattered on him, but none of it appeared to be his. At least, she didn’t see any injuries.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
He squatted in front of her.
“I told you not to leave my side.”
“Alice needed me,” Jo whispered, and Theo’s gaze went to the little girl.
“We’ll discuss this later.”
Jo glared. “She’s seven. They killed her mother and took her from her home. She doesn’t know where she is or how to get home. She’s scared, Theo.”
He growled as he stood. “Isabel!”
His bellow filled the small space, and the woman from the front of the store peeked in her head.
“Well, this is a fine mess. Now, instead of customers paying me, it’ll be me paying someone to cart out these bodies and clean up this mess.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Theo snapped.
“Don’t snap at her,” Jo ordered then coughed from the burn in her throat.
“This is Alice.”
He gently pulled Alice off her lap and carried the crying girl to Isabel. Once she was in Isabel’s arms, Alice clung just as tightly to the other woman.
“Shh, child. It’ll be okay. We’re going to get you cleaned up and fed proper. Mama Isabel will take good care of you, baby.”
Isabel turned and left with Alice, and Jo found herself lifted into Theo’s arms. He left Isabel’s place through the back entrance. Jo buried her head in his chest and held on. Now, that it was over, she trembled and felt a bit weepy. He paused once, and she heard him murmuring to someone. Probably sending them to take care of the mess he’d left behind at Isabel’s. She shuddered again, and Theo dropped a kiss atop her head.
Then Theo stepped inside a cottage and placed her on her feet.
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“Clothes. Off.”
“You really want to have sex right now? After all that?”
“I always want you,” Theo replied with a shrug as if that should be obvious to her. “But I need to see if you’re hurt. Don’t fight me on this. Take off your clothes.”
“Theo.”
He shook his head and reached for the cloak, easily pulling it off her. She glanced down at herself when he growled again. She could just make out some new bruising on the outside curve of her breast where it had been grabbed and squeezed. Theo ripped the dress down her shoulders and gravity carried it the rest of the way to pool at her feet.
“I’ll kill them,” he swore as he cupped her breast softly.
“You already did,” she reminded him.
His gaze moved to her throat, and whatever he saw there had another growl spilling from him. His fingers brushed over her neck.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, feeling warmth fill her chest. Even though Theo was upset with her for not following his orders, he cared. His touch and level of anger toward the four men were clear indication of that.
He turned her around, dropping to his knees behind her. He brushed his palm over her buttocks.
“There’s red here.”
“He smacked me when I attacked him.”
She caught her breath as she felt his breath, then his lips, soft and smooth against her heated skin.
“Theo.”
He stood behind her, pulling her snug against him. Firm enough that she felt the hard length of his shaft where it pressed against his leathers.
“How sore are you?” he murmured, and she knew what he wanted. She needed to know why, though. Why did he need her in the aftermath?
She wanted it, too. One night and she already craved his touch. She turned in his arms, grabbing his upper arms and lifting into him. He bent enough to cup her thighs then raised her once more so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He took her mouth in a heated kiss that spoke of how urgent his desire for her was. It wasn’t the time for intimacy. He had blood on him, and she was still a little shaky, but all of those reasons disappeared when he touched her.
“I’m fine,” she whispered when he released her mouth to place soft kisses along her neck.
He brushed his lips over her throat so softly it felt like the caress of a feather. Then he stilled, holding her close as he shuddered.
“I could have lost you,” he murmured, and her heart fluttered at the emotion behind those five words. “Don’t ever disobey me like that again, Josephine. I need you close. Always. I can’t protect you if you’re not close.”
“Theo—”
“No,” he cut in. “I won’t give you back. I won’t let you leave me. I may not deserve you, but I’m keeping you.”
Jo didn’t know what to say. It felt wrong to agree with him, no matter how much she wanted to stay with him. God, she’d felt more alive since he’d taken her than she had in years. She was always underfoot when it came to her brother.
She knew he loved Rory even if neither he nor Rory had figured that out for themselves yet. They wouldn’t want her always there, demanding attention. She’d started going into the different villages within her brother’s lands to see if Jamie would notice she wasn’t there. He had, but he’d given her the freedom to come and go as she wanted. She felt guilty for the anger she’d felt in the beginning. Especially after learning all Rory had been through. But Jo wanted to be needed. To be wanted. She wanted a man to look at her the way Theo was, to tell her how much he wanted and needed her.
“We’re getting married.”
Theo’s words were like having icy water thrown at her. Her jaw dropped open and she couldn’t seem to get it to close as she pushed against his chest. How had they gone from what she’d assumed would be him ravaging her again to him stating they were marrying?
“What?”
“Isabel’s bringing something for you to wear. The priest should be here soon after. You’ll take the vows.”
She almost laughed at the command. She wouldn’t have expected anything less than an order from him. He wasn’t one to ask. He simply told her what he wanted and expected her to be obedient.
“I hate you,” she muttered, but she knew he saw it for the lie it was.
“I’ll accept that,” Theo said as he lowered her to her feet and took a step back, running his gaze over her. “You can hate me just the same as my wife.”
There was a knock at the door before she could reply to that bit of nonsense. He jerked his cloak from the floor where he’d tossed it earlier and wrapped it around her.
“You can’t order me to marry you,” she yelled as he headed toward the door.
“I already did. Don’t think I won’t let the priest know just how thoroughly I’ve already bedded you. Do you want him to hear how I gave you pleasure? How many times?”
“I hate you,” she muttered again, and this time, she wasn’t lying. The bastard had the gall to laugh.
Chapter Eight
Theo took his vows with the blood of those he’d killed still on his skin. Josephine took hers wearing only his cloak. Isabel must have been busy with the little girl. Though she’d sent the priest, Isabel hadn’t shown up. Father Thomas had married them in front of the unlit fireplace. As far as ceremonies went, Theo couldn’t have given her a worse one. She’d probably hate him for that alone.
After the ceremony, he’d taken the cloak and her dress and left her naked in the cottage while he went to retrieve a tub for her, along with several buckets of water to heat by the fire once he lit it. She’d been glaring at him since he’d returned.
He dumped the last bucket of water into the tub and pointed to it, not trusting himself to speak to her yet. He’d nearly lost his mind when she’d dared to ask the priest if he could repeat his words again before she’d agreed. The growl that had left his throat had the priest jumping. Josephine had merely turned and glared at him.
Now, he watched as she stomped to the tub and practically threw herself into it. She was a vison, but it wasn’t her lush curves that drew his gaze, or at least only one that did. The bruising on her beast had darkened since he’d first noted it, and his blood boiled with rage. He wanted to go back and kill those men again. To take his time and prolong their pain.
“I still have blood on me. I’d like to wash it off if you could get on with your bath,” Theo snapped.
Her fiery gaze met his, and she bared her teeth at him. His cock grew impossibly harder in his leathers. She grabbed the soap and cloth he’d laid out for her and began washing with angry sweeps.
“If you can’t be nicer to your skin, I’ll wash you,” he threatened, and she growled.
Theo laughed. He couldn’t help it. The woman got under his skin like no one else. He wasn’t known to lose his temper with a member of the fairer sex. He was patient and kind. His mother might have died when he was still a young boy, but she’d loved him. She’d made him feel loved. After her, no one else had. His father made sure Theo understood he was nothing more than a bastard, often sneering that Theo was one of many. His father and his men kept him and Gavin separate as much as possible, and he’d been threatened more than once when he’d snuck off with Rory, teaching her how to swim or ride a horse. He wasn’t to mix with the lord’s legitimate heir.
He’d been beaten and abused. Made to sleep outdoors or in the barn, if no one caught him. Then he’d been sent away and learned there was a hell worse than the one he’d found himself in with his mother’s death. There he’d learned what a true beating was. Then Gavin had followed him into that hell, and he’d been unable to protect his younger brother. While Theo’s anger was easily stoked, it burned out quickly, leaving him with his thoughts. Gavin’s was a cold burning fire that dug deeper and deeper under his brother’s skin until Theo worried what would happen when Gavin finally gave it free rein.
A wet washcloth hit him in the chest, and he glanced up to see Josephine out of the tub, wrapped in one of the large drying cloths he’d set out.
“Your bath, my king,” she sneered, giving him a mocking bow.
“Husband,” he corrected as he came to his feet and strode toward her. She took one step backward then seemed to steady herself, refusing to move again even when he stood so close they almost touched.
“What?” she snapped.
“Your husband. Not your king,” he replied, reaching down to release the laces on his leathers. He’d removed the harness for his axe before the ceremony then kicked off his boots and thick stockings after he’d carried in the tub and water.
“I don’t care.”
She turned and took a step away.
“You’ll bathe me,” he ordered, and his cock jerked as another low growl spilled from her throat. He wondered if it heated her blood when he did it. Probably not.
“Josephine,” he warned when it looked as if she’d continue walking away from him. “If you don’t want the blood staining my chest smeared on you, I wouldn’t take another step.”
He watched her struggle and wasn’t sure what he wanted more. Her obedience or that fiery defiance. God, she made him feel. That’s what it was. For the first time since he was a young boy, he felt something other than anger and the burning desire to prove himself as more than the bastard son of a lord who’d never wanted him. Theo still felt a burning desire, but it wasn’t for vengeance. It was for her. He wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. More than the kingdom he’d built. More than the allegiance of his men, the trust of his people. He’d give it all up in an instant, if that’s what it took to own even a portion of her heart and soul. Maybe, it made him a weak man. He didn’t care.
“Fine.”
She tossed the drying cloth aside then held up her hand when he made to move toward her.
“You’ll not touch me while you have blood on you.”
“Spoken like a queen.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. Had she not realized she was a queen? He could tell by her expression she’d been too angry with him to consider all the ramifications of their marriage. He shoved down his leathers and kicked them aside, not hiding his erection as her gaze took him in. Color crept up her skin, from her chest into her face, as she eyed his cock. It twitched under her appraisal, rising up so it pointed directly toward her.
“Keep staring, and we’ll forget the bath.”
She squeaked, gaze jerking up to clash with his. He stepped into the tepid water and sank down, not fitting in the small confines nearly as easily as she had. He wondered what she’d think of the large tub he kept in his chambers, one made especially for his size. It would allow her to bathe with him, if she sat on his lap, maybe astride him. He soaped the cloth and made quick work of cleaning everything from the waist down, then he scrubbed his chest and arms.
“Am I bathing you or watching you bathe yourself?” she asked, reminding him in his rush to get clean that he had told her she’d clean him.
“Back and shoulders,” he ordered as he rinsed then held out the cloth.
She took it and moved so she stood behind him. She brushed over his skin with the wet material, trailing her fingers after. He knew she was taking in the myriad scars that marred his back. Places where swords had found their way too close for comfort. Whips had marked him. He’d taken a dagger to the shoulder. She traced them all. She must have dropped the cloth because all he felt was her touch.
“There’s one more bucket of water,” she murmured. “May I wash your hair?”
He nodded, not daring to utter a word, afraid it might break whatever spell she’d fallen under. Her fingers were torturously soft as she worked the soap through his hair, massaging his scalp as she did.
“Move forward if you can and tilt your head back.”
He did as she asked, pressing his knees firmly into the wooden tub and leaning back his head. He sat as still as he could while she rinsed his hair. She’d barely turned to set down the bucket when he was rising and stepping out. He reached for her, tugging her back against him and groaning at the feel of her bare skin against his.
“Why did you marry me?” Her question was a mere whisper. “You’ve already had me. There was no need—”
He put his hand over her mouth, bending to whisper in her ear.
“There was every need. I told you that I was keeping you. Now, even your brother can’t take you from me.”
She spun around, shoving against his chest.
“I’m not a possession, damn you!”
“You’re my possession,” he growled. “And before this night ends, I’ll own every inch of you.”
“No!” she cried out, but she didn’t fight when he tugged her against him.
Her face tilted up, and her mouth parted at the first touch of his lips. Her body softened against him, and he knew she wanted him. She clung to him as he trailed his fingers over her, cupping one breast and rubbing across the taut nipple with his thumb. He freed her mouth, replacing his thumb with his lips, sucking her in then nibbling at her.
“Mmm,” she moaned, and he reached down, cupping her buttocks and lifting her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her sex rubbing along his shaft. He inched her higher, until the crown lodged at her opening then eased her down on him. He gripped her thighs and moved her on his cock. Josephine buried her head in his neck, panting and mewling, her arms around his shoulders. She was tight around him, and he panted as he drove up into her. Then groaned as she grew even snugger as he pulled back toward her entrance.
He hadn’t meant to take her while standing. He’d planned to carry her to the bedroom and spend the rest of the evening there, but once inside her, any thoughts other than fucking her disappeared. She consumed him as nothing ever had. He moved faster, pumping up into her so hard she cried out with each penetration. Her head was thrown back, and a look of pleasure covered her face. He thrust deep, holding her firmly seated on him as he walked toward the bedroom.
“Theo!”
She screamed his name as her inner walls tightened around him, the evidence of her pleasure coating his shaft as he moved. He pulled her off him and dropped her onto the bed.
“Move to the center of the bed,” he ordered, and her eyes snapped open. “Onto your hands and knees.”
She blinked up at him, then her gaze traveled down his body, pausing on his still hard shaft.
“Hands and knees, Josephine,” he ordered.
She rolled over, rising into the position he’d commanded.
“Face the other direction. I want your buttocks toward me.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.
“No. Not there. You won’t fit.”
“I’ll fit.”
“Theo.”
“Remember what I told you, Josephine.”
Her gaze bounced from his face back to his cock then up again. She swallowed and licked her lips, making him want to take her there, to slide his shaft into her mouth and ride along her tongue.
