Princess Rashima isn’t what she seems. It took Wil longer to figure it out than usual. Does this mean something even more diabolical is going on than he thought?
Wil guided the horse with his knees, subtle and continuous, leading them gradually to the primary pick up point. Ben and the others should be there by now. Emory, Wallace and Freedrick had probably already been picked up and would be waiting for them. Now he was bringing in this Trojan horse, Rashima. Whoever she was, whatever organization she worked for, he hoped to discover before she could harm his people or screw up his mission.
She stopped the horse, sliding from the saddle to the ground. Wil held her blanket clamped in one lax hand, falling slightly from the horse’s back, sliding off to one side. She was too annoyed to notice him put one foot on the ground beside her and let his other leg slip down as he leaned on the horse for support.
A snap of her fingers brought him out of his pretend trance and he smiled down at her, leaning over to kiss her on the lips. For a moment, she pushed away, but he persisted and she gradually responded to his touch. His hold around her tightened, pressing his chest against her and he turned so she was between him and the horse’s side. A shift of his weight and she was well and truly caught.
Grabbing a handful of her long, dark hair, he took his mouth from hers, trailing his fingers down her neck, tracing the line of her breast. She stayed a moment more with her eyes closed, then realized the position she was in and the fact that he was obviously not under her control struck her. Ashen faced, she struggled to free herself. His smile faded, replaced by a mask like visage which had been known to intimidate even the hardiest of warriors. Rashima shrank away from him, terrified.
“Who do you work for, Rashima?” His hand gripped her brutally, fingers digging in, bruising her flesh.
“No one, I work for no one.”
“Oh, baby, you don’t lie well.”
His grip relaxed, his hands moved to her body, working their way around in subtle and provocative ways. He kissed her lips, her neck, her shoulder. He could feel her powers affecting him and fought for control.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Rashima. You are too beautiful to damage like that. Just tell me who you work for, I’ll let you go.” His lips brushed her ear.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her head against his chest as if in defeat. The tenseness of her body belied her.
Despite his determination not to let her get to him, he was weakening. She was beautiful, she felt good against him, she smelled like fresh flowers and gentle breezes. He wanted her like he’d wanted no other woman in his life. She had to be his! His lips pressed hard against hers.
A warning sounded in his mind, some sense saw below the surface of what seemed so real. Someone said his name. Did he hear a voice? Yes! A woman was saying his name. It wasn’t Rashima. He felt lightheaded, intoxicated.
“Rashima,” his voice was hoarse with passion as he slipped her gown down from her breasts.
“Wil!” There was that damn woman again!
Lashing out, he found his arm pinned behind him, a knee placed firmly in between his legs from the rear, pressing up dangerously against his testicles.
Rashima was still sandwiched between him and the horse, her dark eyes glowing with a desperate passion. Rough hands grabbed her away from him, shoving her toward a waiting vehicle. Wil called out in anger and distress, trying to follow, but was held firmly. He saw Ishanti clip Rashima on the jaw as she shoved her into the car.
A few dreadful minutes passed as his head cleared, leaving a harsh ringing in his ears and a pounding headache. Penny held him more gently now, leading him to the front of the armored car, protecting his head as he ducked inside, falling onto the seat. Shoving his long legs over, she slid in beside him, putting the car in gear. In silence, they drove back to the waiting shuttle. Wil crawled like a child from the car, stumbled to the shuttle door and was hauled in by Ben and Emory.
“What do I do with her?” Ishanti’s voice sounded harsh.
Wil’s ears were ringing like a four alarm fire.
“She under? Tie the bitch up and throw her in the back. I want to question her when we get back to the ship,” Ben’s voice cut in.
“No,” this was Emory. “Kill her.”
“Kill her,” Emory said with finality.
A shot rang out, Wil heard a body drop, but he was too disoriented to care. He fell asleep in a heap on the floor.