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Enemy Prisoner

By: lepetiterose



Having forgotten to close the heavy curtains the night before, a frown creased the otherwise smooth features of a young woman as the morning sun fell across her face, her eyes darting behind still heavy lids. Her hand, slender and white, moving to relieve them of the glare, came to rest lightly against her forehead. 

A minute passed while the woman's body held unnaturally still in a vain attempt to retain sleep. Finally, sensing a loosing battle, she sighed and stirred. Smooth, long limbs moved languidly, crumpling the already lined cotton sheets. A wide yawn escaped the woman's mouth, finishing off with a rush of breath as her eyes fluttered open to stare at the ceiling. 

Her dark brown hair was strewn on either side of her pillow, framing her face as a slow smile of satisfaction crept guiltily upon her face. She stretched, her muscles straining stiffly against the movement, the place between her legs tender. With a rustle she pulled the duvet up to her chin, warding off the cool air, and turned her head to look at the space beside her. She blinked in surprise. 

Peeling back the duvet, she revealed the vacant space beneath it, and blinked twice again. Slowly, her arm stretched out to touch the sheets. Cold. The blanket should have retained some heat if he had only left the bed a short while ago. He had been gone for some time...

***

The white and blue flag snapped angrily in the biting wind, its blood soaked edges proclaiming its bloodthirsty origin. Beneath its shadow lay a battlefield blooming with thousands upon thousands of bodies, so entrenched in the grime of war that they seemed be part of the earth instead of once living flesh and blood. 

The sky was beginning to darken into the hopeless black of night, though twilight had arrived prematurely as huge thunder clouds rolled into the early afternoon, black and ominous.

Iana looked out over the horrific scene, her grey eyes seemingly impassive to the bloating massacre before her, her face expressionless even as the smell of waste wafted up with the wind. She held still atop her horse, straight backed and composed, an austere sentinel and unyielding leader to all those who followed her. 

Soldiers who had yet to fall to the war's hungry jaws took encouragement as they filed past. Seeing their Lady unhurt and determined, looking like a real hero, like those heard of in the tales, lifted their hopes and renewed their belief in the future. 

Iana knew their looks, knew what they wanted to see but failed, for once, to give a damn. 'This is what I have come to,' she murmured to herself, tiredly. 'To stand impassive as the world around me burns.'

In truth, she was in turmoil. It took all her will to keep up the façade. Inside, a rage was roiling through her, burning its way through her stomach and up though her throat, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. And beside the rage was a bone deep sadness.

What a bloody waste. Every battle, every life lost was a waste. Man killing man, brother fighting father, and countryman against countryman. It was a war without compromise, a war with only one victor: death.

Iana raked a hand through her thick, dark brown hair. The war had gone on too long, far too long. They had lost so much, she had lost so much, but today had been the tipping point.

Finally she allowed herself a small smile, and the rage and sadness receded into a small corner of her soul for the moment. It would return sooner or later as it always did. But not now.

Today, they had won. It had been long and bitter but, Dear High One Above, she had lead them to victory! After seven years of fighting, it finally looked as if the end were in sight. Iana kicked her horse forward, making her way down from her vantage point and headed around the hill, back towards the camp.

It had been seven years since, at the age of 17, she'd stepped onto her village's small herald stage and urged the villagers to resist the new regime. She remembered it like it was yesterday: the heat and dust of the rural square, the frenzied voices of her friends and family and the burning excitement of addressing the large crowd. From that moment on, her popularity had grown like a wild fire and she had risen to become the most prominent leader of the rebellion. The passion she felt echoed those of her fellow citizens, her love for her land equal to any farmers while her hatred of the new anarchists was as fierce as the strongest nationalists. She had a talent for words and knew how to inspire the deepest loyalty in every man, woman and child who heard her. From simple village girl to captain commander and leader of the rebellion's army, Iana had come very far in just seven years.

At an age when many women her age were married to good, stable farmers and had had five babies already, she had been beaten, tortured, left for dead, recovered, traveled the length and breadth of her country, learned to fight with a sword, quarterstaff and her hands, had gathered an army and led it in countless skirmishes and over fifteen large field battles, and had become the most wanted woman and man (reports sometimes varied on her gender) in the entire country. 

So far, her life was not shaping out as she imagined it would at the age of five, she mused, as she entered the camp and made her way towards her tent. She was so tired from the long day of battle that all she wanted to do was wash and crawl into bed. 

With a groan, she opened the flap of her tent, entered and caught sight of the pile of paper work that had already been delivered onto her desk. Damage reports. Damn it.

She'd come a long way, not only in position but also in character. Gone was that naïve little girl who had believed in good conquering evil and the promise of someone's word. She no longer had any interest in dresses and mysterious princes riding to her rescue. She'd even lost all childlike softness that she once had, with her features sharpening, the angles almost as hard as her eyes: Eyes that could, it was whispered amongst the soldier's ranks, pierce a person's soul. Her body had toned into the muscle needed for a warrior, yet her naturally thin build kept her slim. Tall, she held herself with confidence, and had a presence that often ignited a room.

Because, besides from her fierce need to protect her people, and the respect gained from her unusual skill as a warrior, people were stunned into silence and sometimes jealous fits when they saw her. 

She didn't realize it, but she was beautiful. Stunningly so. And her incomprehension of the fact made her all the more attractive. Men would die for her; woman couldn't help but respect her. She was Iana Fireheart, Lady of the Land, and Leader of the Free People. She was an icon and to many a god, but not many saw her as a normal person. 

And that, she decided, as she flopped onto her bed, her horse taken away by a helpful soldier for a rub down, is half the problem. Gods never got tired, nor did they have needs. 

Nor, she thought wryly as she heard someone approach her tent, did they have personal time.

'Come,' she called out, refusing to move from her prone position. The approaching footsteps halted, then continued hesitantly. Her messengers still couldn't get used to her superb hearing.

'My lady,' a man's gruff voice spoke respectfully just beyond her tent, 'I have news.'

With a groan she lifted herself to sit at the edge of the bed and briskly rubbed her face with her hands. 'Come in, Murdana,' she called out to her second-in-command. 

Once he'd entered, she got up slowly and walked over to a rickety table that held a bottle of shampuk, a fiery alcoholic drink favoured by the soldiers. 'Is it good news or bad news?' She poured a little into two horn cups and offered one to the older man.

Taking it, he regarded her with amusement as she tipped her head back and swallowed her drink in one gulp. 'To tell you the truth, Iana, I don't know.' Seeing her frown, he just smiled. 'We have acquired a very interesting prisoner. My company found him pinned beneath his dead horse, unable to move head or tail. He's cut up pretty bad but no bones are broken. But the interesting thing is that he wears the badge of a commander.'

Iana's brows shot up. A commander? 'Where is he?'

Murdana hid a smile. Even exhausted and battle worn, Iana always wanted to deal with things immediately. 'Outside, my lady. I thought you'd like to see him.'

'Has he come peacefully?'

'Nope, battled every step of the way.' There was a satisfied glint in the warrior's eyes. 'Gave us a chance to decorate him black and blue, just so he looked extra nice for you.'

Iana couldn't help but smile. She couldn't ask for a better second-in-command than Murdana. Her right hand man, he was trustworthy and loyal to the bone, and to top it off, he tried to make her smile at every moment.

'Bring him in then.'

Shouting to his men outside, Murdana stepped aside to sip his drink as the prisoner was brought in and thrown to his knees in front of Iana. When the guards had left to station themselves outside once more, Iana walked forward and surveyed the man at her feet.

Silent, his head was bowed, thick black hair caked in mud hiding his features. Though slouched, Iana could see how his large shoulders filled his black coat, the cloth following the powerful line of his back. His hands, tied together at the small of his back, were large and covered in blood: she could see the weeping cracks that broke through his callouses. This man wasn't a commander for nothing. He obviously fought with his men, led from the saddle and fought with enough skill and determination that his hands bled before he would give up.

A formidable enemy, indeed. Then why did a feeling of recognition niggle at the back of her mind?

Unsheathing her sword, she brought it to rest beneath the man's chin. Firmly, she used the sharp tip to force him to raise his head.

Cold, ice blue eyes glared defiantly up at her. 

Iana felt her blood run cold as a tremendous pressure began to press down on her chest. Frozen in shock, she stared back at the man: A man she hadn't seen in six years. 'Alex.' 

'Hello, Iana. Long time.'

At the sound of his deep voice, flames swept through her veins, thawing her shocked body and leaving her with a sudden, burning rage.

With barely a sound, she thwacked him hard across the head with the flat of her sword.

Murdana jumped back as the prisoner went down with a moan, blood running to join the grime on his face from where the edge of the sword had cut him. The vice-commander looked at Iana in shock. She'd never displayed such a loss of temper.

'Murdana, get your men to secure the prisoner to the central post. When you leave, take the guards with you. No one is to disturb me.' Her command whipped through the air with a snap as her sword hissed back into its sheath.

'But, my lady, that is--' the veteran fighter took a step back as Iana turned to glare at him. Her eyes burned with untamed fury. He swallowed in fear. 'I mean, right away, my lady.' Avoiding her gaze, he scuttled through the tent entrance to talk to the guards.

After a moment, they entered with wide eyes that got bigger when they saw the prisoner, bleeding on the ground. Unnerved, they paused in the middle of the room, eyes darting from their chief-commander to the moaning man.

'Get him tied up, then get out!'

Cringing, they moved quickly to obey her order. Picking up the man roughly, the one guard held him secure as the other retied the prisoner's hands around the post. Once done, they stepped away. Still dazed from the blow, the prisoner's head immediately lolled to the one side as his legs buckled out from beneath him.

Job done, the guards were quick to make their way to the tent flap.

'Johl!' Iana called out, eyes never leaving the prisoner.

'Yes, my lady?'

'Bring me two buckets of water. One cold and the other heated up.'

'But the one will take longer than the other--'

'Obviously! Just bring them as they're ready, man!'

'R-r-right away, my lady.' 

A moment later, Iana was alone in the tent with the man she had hoped never to see again in her life.

'Alex.' A stream of emotions flew through her as her lips formed his name. Anger. Hurt. Grief. Love. Hatred. And the strongest: Betrayal. It seared through her with a bitter intensity that took her breath away. She thought herself to far gone to feel such feelings again. Had seen too much. Learnt too much.

Tracing his familiar yet strange features with her eyes, years seemed to melt away until she felt eighteen years old again. High One Above, she had been so naïve, so fill with hope! She hadn't known the scars she would acquire, both on her body and on her soul.

'Thanks to you, that didn't last too long, did it?' she whispered, lost in her pained memories.

'My lady?'

Iana spun around, hand at her sword's hilt. She hadn't heard the tent flap open. She relaxed slightly when she saw Johl with a bucket of water. 'Thank you, Johl. Place it near the prisoner, please.'

'The other one is on its way, my lady. A washer woman will bring it.'

She just nodded in reply, her mind distracted. She didn't notice the guard leave.

Striding to the bucket, she lifted it up and brusquely poured its icy contents straight onto the dazed man's head.

'Argh!' He came to with a splutter, water running down his face to create streaks of dirt as he shook his head, regaining his senses. Spitting out a wad of blood, he swung his gaze belligerently towards her. 'Hitting me with a sword was a bit impersonal, don't you think?'

His head snapped to the side as she backhanded him, her hand connecting with a crack. As he blinked back stars, she noticed somewhat dispassionately that she'd split his lip. 'Is that personal enough?'

He licked his lip. 'Not quite the caress I was looking for.'

'I can try again,' she said, a mirthless half smile curving her lips. She watched him warily as he struggled to stand. The blood from the cut on his face and lip began to stain his shirt: the red contrasted with the green and black of his coat. The commander-in-chief's insignia, ivy curling around a white sword in a circle of gold, brazenly reminded her that he was the enemy. 'It's nothing less than you deserve.'

He straightened, his face grim and frustrated as he pulled at his bindings. 'Because I am an enemy commander?'

Her eyes narrowed as she felt pain fill her chest. 'Why else?' she asked bitterly, walking to the rickety table that held the shampuk. Pouring herself a drink, she stared down into the clear liquid for a moment, and then put it down with a thunk.

'Iana Fireheart,' Alex's deep voice was mocking. She swung round to look at him, silent as she raised a brow. 'Nice title, a little pompous though.'

'As opposed to The Honourable Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's Radiant Army of the Ever Powerful Kingdom of Altronia?'

He ignored her and instead leered unabashedly. 'And Lady of the Land? Do they call you that because you allow half the army to plow you regularly?' His eyes traveled up and down her body, taking in her lean thighs outlined in tight breeches and the loose man's shirt that allowed a tantalizing view of her cleavage. 'I don't see why though. It would be like sleeping with a pole.'

She tried to ignore the insult, but it hurt more than she cared to acknowledge. The bastard. 'You're very brave for a prisoner, Alex. Obviously, you have a death wish.' She stepped slowly towards him, her eyes never leaving his. 

He just smirked, chin tipping up arrogantly. 'Nothing about you scares me.'

'Oh, but it should,' she murmured, her voice dangerously soft. 'You see, I've had years to think on what I'd do to you if I ever had the misfortune of seeing you again.' She stopped uncomfortably close to him, tipping her head slightly to look up at him. She knew Alex had a great view of her cleavage. 

She smiled in satisfaction as his eyes flicked down, his jaw tensing as he drew a sharp inbreath. 'If these past years for you have been anything like they have been for me, I know torture and death threats are like sunshine compared to other things. Remember,' she dragged a finger down his cheek, 'I learnt from the best.'

He gazed down at her, his eyes glazing over as his breath became uneven.

Suddenly she moved away, and stalked to her bed, which was actually a lumpy roll out mattress laid over a collapsible base. With her back to Alex, she began to unbuckle her sword belt. 'Oh, by the way, are you aware that the Royal family has fled the capital to their southern estates?' She said nonchalantly, and glanced at him to gauge his reaction. The news meant that the Monarchy had acceded defeat.

Alex stood straight and rigid, feet set in a wide stance while he stared straight ahead. His jaw had suddenly gone tense and his eyes burned. He hadn't known.

'You chose the wrong side, Alex.' She sat down to unlace her boots.

His gaze snapped to her. 'I chose what was right.'

'You betrayed your own people; your own family.' The laces snapped against her skin, the tension in her hands contradicting her carefully measured tone. 

'I joined the monarchy to protect them!'

'Is that what you call that massacre outside?' she bit out, her harsh words filled with indignant anger.

For a long while he was silent, lips pressed tightly into an angry line. 

Finished with her boots, Iana heard someone approach her tent. The water. Finally. After two bloody days of battle and then the subsequent hours of trudging through the aftermath, she couldn't wait to feel the hot water on her skin.

'My lady?' the voice outside was hesitant. Obviously Iana's out of character behaviour and loss of temper had already spread like wild fire. 

'You can come in, Sara.' It was impossible to keep the impatience from her voice.

A small woman entered the tent, her surprisingly strong arms holding a large bucket carefully, so as not to spill the steaming water. 'Sorry it took so long, my lady, its just the healers needed the fires for those men that were wounded and--' the washer woman's eyes widened considerably as they took in the bound man in the center of the tent, bloodied and mud soaked.

Iana had to admit he looked terrifying, a panther barely held back by a leash. Tall, and powerfully built, he filled the tent with his presence, even though he was in an enemy camp. His black hair and uniform formed a stark contrast to his light blue eyes, which stared out of his sun-tanned face with an intense, predatory gleam.

With a small squeak, Sara quickly put the bucket down next to a washbasin. She was about to leave when she stopped, bit her lip between her teeth and glanced back at Alex before looking questioningly at Iana. 'Should I bring another bucket, my lady?'

'No, Sara. I'm afraid that nothing will ever be able to wash away the coal black of his soul.'

The washer woman's eyes widened further and she quickly made her escape.

When Iana next looked up, Alex was staring at her, his ice blue eyes inscrutable. He had looked like that the last time they saw each other. Without thinking, the question that she had wanted to ask him all these years burst from her lips.

'After you left, did you ever go back to our village? '

He just looked at her, pain and stubbornness hardening his features.

'Did you?'

'No!' he snapped.

'It's gone,' she whispered, the never forgotten grief catching in her throat. 'They burnt it to the ground and murdered everyone.' She swung away from him, her eyes burning. 'I found my sister outside my family's house. She'd been dead for hours, our home just a smouldering pile of ash. Her thighs were bruised and spread out, her dress covered in blood. And I was too late! Too fucking late to save anyone! And do you know why?' As she stared at a tent wall, hot tears were running down her face, stinging the tiny cuts she'd received from battle. When had she started crying?


Enemy Prisoner



'Iana, I¬--' his voice broke.

'Because your Prince found it amusing to keep me locked up, after he told me that our village was being burned to the ground!' She couldn't stop herself, all the emotions she had been carrying on her shoulders for the past years bursting through the walls of her heart. She whirled around, hands clenched into fists. 'Those are your masters, Alex, that is the family you pledged your allegiance to! Those are the people you chose over me!'

Silence. They glared at each other, each one hard and unyielding as years old memories hung between them. 

Eventually, Alex looked away in disgust. 'You think it was easy? That I had a choice?'

'Oh please! Of course you had a--'

'I never had a choice, Iana. I was already an officer in the army. They knew everything about me, about my family. If I had left, they would have made me come back by threatening the ones I love.'

'That's not what you said at the time.'

'I was an idiot, then.'

'So you just gave up, never fought for what was right.' There was no question in her mind; he had chosen the easiest path.

'I did what I thought was right at the time. After that, it was impossible to leave.' He looked at her then, eyes filled with conviction. 'And after a while, I didn't want to leave.'

'So years later, we're on opposite sides of a battle field.'

'I can't go back. Neither can you. We can't change what has happened, Iana.'

Iana kept silent, the inner turmoil of her heart and mind struggling to settle, even under his calm voice. The trails of her tears grew cool on her face, and irritated at her show of emotion, she wiped at them distractedly. Her hand came away streaked in dirt.

Bloody hell, she'd been wishing for a hot wash the whole day and here she was, leaving a bucket full of steaming water go cold as she argued with Alex!

Immediately, she turned to find the bucket and lifted it into her arms. The water sloshed violently against the sides at the abrupt movement, causing some water to splash onto her shirtfront. The hot water made her shiver in anticipation.

Carefully, she walked behind a screen created by a thin blanket thrown over a rope. A waterproofed sack hung from a pole with a nozzle attached to its underside. Putting the bucket down, she detached the sack and lowered it to the ground. After filling it with most of the water, Iana reattached it to the pole.

She began to undress.

Hearing the rustle of clothing being shed, Alex called out in an oddly strangled voice, 'What are you doing?'

'It's been a long day, Alex, and the possibility of a hot wash-down is all that is keeping me sane at the moment.' Naked, Iana stepped under the full sack and twisted the nozzle. A divine, steady stream of water sprayed down onto her body.

'Ah...' She couldn't help sighing as the hot water poured onto her tired limbs, washing away a lot more than just the day's grime. Indulging in the feeling for only a moment, Iana quickly picked up a sponge set beside the shower area and began scrubbing at the stubborn areas where the dirt had ingrained itself into her skin. Constantly aware of the water running out, she quickly scrubbed her hair beneath the stream, quietly delighting in the melting sensation the warm water had on her scalp.

Timing it to perfection, the last trickle of precious water dripped out of the shower sack just as she finished rinsing off. Happy at the feeling of finally being clean, Iana reached for a drying cloth and rubbed the last of the clinging droplets from her body before putting on a man's large nightshirt. Made out of thick cotton, it would normally have reached knee length on most women, but on Iana the hem came to rest about half way up her thigh.

As the material whispered over her skin, the light friction caused a small shiver to chase goosebumps across her body. She felt her breasts grow taut and sensitive, and her mind immediately snapped to the bound man on the other side of the screen. 

His description of her body as a pole had stung, even though she knew she resembled no such thing. Her physical lifestyle had molded her form into a lean figure while the extra muscle had just bolstered her natural assets, resulting in a firm but curvy body. She was confident in how she looked, but had never seriously considered taking a man to bed in the past years, so Alex's snide remark had hit a vulnerable and seldom explored corner of her ego. 

A strange daring began to well in her chest, the turbulent emotions of the last hour feeding into her need to strike back in someway at the man who had turned her life upside down. If she could get a reaction from him, she knew that in some strange way, she would feel better.

So, before she could stop herself, she stepped around the screen. Avoiding eye contact with Alex, she crossed the tent nonchalantly to light a lantern. The day had finally turned to night, leaving the interior of the tent in a fast darkening gloom. She felt his eyes follow her as she padded past him, his gaze burning into her back as she struck a match and lit the wick. The orange flame danced into being, flicking back and forth as Iana's quickening breath disturbed its course.

Trying to look unaware of Alex's intense stare, she walked over to the last lantern that sat on a low stool, which also doubled as a side table. Lower than the last one, she had to bend slightly to light the wick.

She heard Alex's breath catch as her nightshirt raised up a couple of inches at the back and allowed herself a small smile. Turning around, she wiped the smug expression from her face however, not wanting him to know that her movements were deliberate. She knew the light from the lantern behind her would outline her body through the cotton.

'What's the matter, Alex? Nothing to say?'

'You know exactly what's the matter, you little siren.' His eyes were dark with desire, his tongue licking his lips as he took in her silhouette beneath her nightshirt.

'Do I?'

'Untie me, Iana.'

'Why would I do that?'

'So I can teach you why you shouldn't prance around like that in front of a soldier.'

'But what if I prance around like this every time a soldier enters my tent?' she asked slyly, a hand falling to trace circles on her thigh. She had never felt so womanly.

His answer was a low, warning growl.

'All this fuss over a man's nightshirt! Really, Alex.' 

'When you take it to bed, does its owner join you?' he snapped angrily.

'What is it to you? I'm sure you forgot about me the day you left.'

'Damn you, woman! Don't you dare belittle me! Everyday I've thought of you, your body, and the way you moaned beneath me and said my name as you came. How we sweated and panted for each other on that bed, and how my muscles burned from fucking you over and over again. High One's Eyes, Iana! Most nights I still wake up, my body hot and ready for yours.'

Heat licked at her insides as memories followed his words. His hands on her burning skin, his lips tracing the valley between her breasts, his groans as she-- It seemed her plan had not worked. Instead of arousing him, he was arousing her.

His next words, however, were like a bucket of cold water. 'You don't know how hard it was hearing my superiors talking about you, discussing what they'd do to you once you were captured.'

'You never knew who I was,' she said through numb lips, her heart accelerating at his words. It wasn't possible, she'd been careful not to mention her involvement in the rebellion all those years ago.

'The morning before I left, I received a letter of promotion. And in it was a warrant for the arrest of a rebel leader. No name, just a picture. It was of you.'

'You knew? That last night we were together, you knew the entire time!'

'It's why I left, Iana!' Frustration was stark on his face as he jerked against his bonds. 'Aargh!' Alex cursed as he flinched to the side, his body leaning to compensate for the sudden pain that tore through his right arm. 'Damn it, you're guards sure know how to tie a man up.'

Iana didn't reply as she walked to his side. She did not trust herself to speak, his confessions having shaken her confidence and long held beliefs. Reaching his side, she hesitantly raised her hands to his arm. 

When he jerked away, her eyes caught his. 'Alex, I just want to look.'

He clenched his jaw, his whole body rigid. He stared at her for a moment, then, obviously coming to some sort of decision, nodded. He breathed in deeply as she touched his pained arm, squeezing the lean muscle beneath his coat to determine where he had pulled it. Her fingers came away covered in blood.

She cursed and dashed to her desk to pick up her dagger, before coming back to the now glowering Alex. Without a thought she cut through the ropes that held him to the pole.

'Get out of that coat,' she commanded. 'Now!'

He just stared at her dumbly, surprised at his sudden freedom.

'Oh, for the love of--!' She stepped up to him and began yanking the heavy garment off his tall frame, the mass of coat falling of his body in a heavy rush. Immediately, her eyes found the dark, red stain blooming through the material covering his shoulder. A small rip in the white material told her where the wound lay. 'Alex, take off you're shirt. I need to get something to bind the wound, otherwise you'll bleed out.' Without a second glance she left him to undress as she searched her tent for some bandage, collecting the bucket with the left over water, the bottle of shampuk and a cloth on the way.

Finding a roll of bandage in a spare saddlebag, she turned back to Alex. And stopped dead.

High One Above, but he was magnificent. Shirtless and clad in his tight fitting breeches and boots, he seemed to exude primal power. When she'd last see him, his youthful body had been strong and lean, seducing her with its clearly defined muscle that jumped under her touch. But it had been seven years and a war since then, and Alex no longer looked like the boy he once was:

He was undoubtedly a man.

The breeches he wore only outlined his muscular thighs, but beyond that scant article of clothing, he was bare to her admiring gaze. Unable to tear her eyes away from the man before her, she followed the strongly defined lines of his chest to the solid muscle that rippled along his stomach, before following the tapering V that ended below the waistband of his breeches. With broad shoulders and arms powerful enough to swing a broadsword with ease, he posed a very dangerous threat to her if he decided to take advantage of his freedom.

Sure her thoughts were clear on her face, she walked briskly forward, hoping to hide them beneath her suddenly productive manner.

'Hold this,' she said, thrusting the alcohol and bandage into his hands. Holding the bucket beneath an arm, she dipped the cloth into the now lukewarm water and carefully dabbed at his bloodied arm. Wiping away the excess blood to expose the wound, she found his skin was torn in a shallow scrape, ending in a deep puncture just below his shoulder.

'Must have been a spear,' he murmured, craning his neck round to watch her actions. 

'Lucky it didn't find your neck,' she muttered, swapping the damp, stained cloth for the bottle of shampuk. Alex hissed as the alcohol settled into the wound, stinging away any infection.

'Don't be such a child,' she scolded, biting back a smirk as he scowled down at her.

Before the wound could drown itself in blood again, Iana quickly unrolled the bandage, folding the end to create a pad before applying it to Alex's injured arm. As she wound the bandage tightly around his shoulder, she couldn't help but lean towards him slightly, unconsciously attracted to his male warmth and smell.

It had been so long since she'd been with a man; felt the happiness of being wanted, the safety of being in the arms of another. For years she'd set aside her personal wants and needs for those belonging to thousands and thousands of followers who expected her to be a leader and a god in one, never tiring, never wavering, never giving up. There had never been time for Iana to rest, not even a moment. To rest was to allow oneself to be open to attack, and there had always been the possibility of attack.

But now...now the last major battle of the war was over. The Monarchy's military power was broken and no longer posed a threat, and for the first time in a very long while Iana had the opportunity to relax.

Dangerous thoughts to have, especially when a hot-blooded male stood just inches from her, his powerful frame towering over hers. 

Trying to control her wayward thoughts, Iana surveyed her work. The bandage was neat and tight and should stop the bleeding. She just hoped the wound wouldn't get infected.

'Thank you.' Alex's low voice reverberated through her, the deep tone causing a delicious jolt of pleasure to shoot unexpectedly from between her thighs.

Not knowing whether or not to be dismayed at her body's response, she just shrugged and made to step away, the close proximity to him confusing her senses.

A large, warm hand at her back halted her, however.

'Where are you going, Iana?'

Licking her lips nervously, Iana froze in place and just stared at the expanse of chest in front of her as she tried to regulate her breathing. 'Alex, now that you're wound is dressed, I must retie you.'

'I don't think so.' He sounded amused. The hand at her back began to stroke her gently, seducing in its gentleness. 'I can think of other things I'd rather be doing than handing myself over willingly to be held captive again.'

'You're in enemy territory, Alex, you won't be able to escape.'

'Who said anything about escaping?' His other hand joined the first, the combined heat searing through her shirt. Bending down slightly, he breathed in the scent of her skin at the nape of her neck.

Closing her eyes, Iana tried to fight the wave of want that crashed through her. There was no denying what he wanted. It was in his voice, in the heat of his hands and in every ragged breath he took. And she wanted the same. Dear High One Above, she wanted him.

'Alex, I...' She couldn't find the words to resist him.

He swooped in to kiss her, his soft lips taking hers with a desperation borne from years of need. Without hesitation she opened her mouth to him, the banked fire of passion turning into an inferno of desperate desire, forcing her to hunger after everything he gave and more. It was a kiss of anger, of reunion, of hopelessness and hope. 

She groaned as Alex's tongue rasped against her own, the wet heat of it mirroring her need further south. Her hands had risen unconsciously to run through his raggedly long hair, tugging at clumps of it to bring him closer to her.

His hands seized the firm flesh of her bottom and jerked her to him, forcing her to fall against his hard, muscular body and the straining bulge of his erection. Alex let out a tense breath as she pressed up against him, shifting beneath her to rub his arousal against her stomach, branding her with dark promise. 

'How do you do this to me?' he gasped between their frantic and bruising kisses. 'Years and years go by and I still want you as much as I did that first night.' His hands slid down to her exposed thighs and began to slip up beneath her nightshirt, each finger forcing a shiver to run through her as the calloused tips scraped up to her sensitive upper thighs. At the crease between her bottom and thigh, he paused briefly to caress the underside of her cheeks. 

Iana felt him smile as her bottom clenched. 'You haven't changed. You always did like me touching you here.' To demonstrate his point, he allowed one hand to lightly trace the crack between her cheeks as the other continued to tickle the underside, causing bolts of shivery pleasure to ripple from the whispery contact directly to between her thighs. She moaned into his neck as she felt herself grow damp.

Abruptly his hands moved to cover her whole bottom and squeezed roughly, testing the firm flesh as fingers sunk in to massage her.

He was driving her insane! A strange restlessness developed in her limbs, making her want to hike her leg up to his hip, entangle her arms around his neck and rub her breasts against his chest all at once. A fuzzy heat had enveloped her as he'd caressed her arse, and now as he fondled her, her body strained to feel the whole of him against her, around her, in her.

'Alex,' she gasped, trying to maintain her control, 'I...'

'What is it, my darling? Tell me.' He licked the underside of her ear, his hot, ragged breath melting her sense.

'I...want y-you. Please, I want to feel y-you!'

'Damn, Iana.' Abruptly his hands swooped up the sides of her body, dragging her shirt with them. Lifting up her arms, she felt the material scrape past her face in his rush to divest her of her garment before tossing it to the side.

The breath rushed from him as he gazed down at her.

It had been many years since he'd last seen her bared to him like this. In his dreams, insubstantial wisps of memory had been potent in their ability to arouse him with the merest thought. The real, living, breathing woman in front of him set him on fire.

Lean and toned, Iana's body was a testament to her life as a leader and commander. While her arms and thighs were strong from the warrior's life of fighting and riding, they were softened by her feminine curves. In every way she was more alluring than before; the way she stood, her confidence and her direct gaze, which watched him with the same, gut-clenching intensity.

But as Alex's eyes traced her full breasts, tight waist and high hips, he couldn't help but notice that her smooth skin was broken here and there by white scars. They marked her skin in uneven intervals, each one a different size and length.

He reached out to trace a thin white line that lay across her collarbone, but she caught his wrist tightly. Her eyes looked pained. 'I no longer look they way I once did, Alex. These scars--'

'Are beautiful,' he interrupted forcefully, pulling her to him. He gave her a hard kiss before bending to press a softer kiss to her collarbone. 'How did you get this?'

She breathed in unsteadily as she felt his hot breath against her neck. 'A failed assassination attempt.'

He stopped at another scar, his tongue tracing the tender cut. He looked at her, the same question in his eyes.

'Stabbed by a royalist in the street.'

He moved to the next one, a circular white mass on her shoulder.

'Archer's arrow at the battle near Mieron's Valley.'

A long, thin line running diagonally across one breast.

'Ambush just inside the city gates of Dashret.'

He carried on in this manner, slowly making his way down her body, licking, kissing and scraping every marked piece of skin, listening to her increasingly breathless explanations as he passed her chest, stomach and hip until he came to her soft inner thigh. Pausing only to press his lips to her skin, he moved up and covered her intimate flesh in a hot open-mouthed kiss.

Iana arched her back. 'You, only you!' she cried out.

Alex stilled, her passion laced confession causing his body to tauten unbearably. A fierce possession squeezed his heart. If he was honest, he had hoped that he was the only one. It had been irrational and egotistical, but it was there, nevertheless. Yet to hear her confession fall from her lips...well, it made him feel invincible.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he pressed his mouth more firmly into her quivering lips, his tongue tracing a searing line from her clit to her wet entrance. Her hips jerked as pushed his tongue deep into her tight channel, slowly swirling it around until she grabbed his head in pleasure. 'Oh, Alex, please don't stop!' Her head fell back as she fought for breath. 'Uh!' 

Replacing his pulsing tongue with a finger, he picked up the pace, rapidly thrusting the digit into her as he moved to take her engorged clit between his teeth. Gently, he bit it.




Enemy Prisoner



'Oh, God! ALEX!' Iana choked out, nearly delirious with pleasure.

Removing his finger, he grasped her hips to hold her in place and mercilessly laved at her sensitive nub, alternating between diddling it with his speared tongue and sucking it hard into his hungry mouth, unrelenting as she tried to squirm away. Soon, her struggles intensified as his name repeatedly fell breathily from her lips before her thighs tightened around his head, her body turning rigid as she came.

His tongue taking one long lick along her drenched flesh as it gushed her climax, then he pulled away, rose, and took her still shuddering form in his arms. He carried her swiftly to the camper bed, laying her down before divesting himself of his boots and breeches. 

She lay languidly on the mattress, smiling as she looked at him through half closed eyes. When he dropped his breeches those grey eyes widened as they took in his swollen member. Eagerly she got onto her knees and reached for him.

Alex swatted her hand away. He wouldn't last long under her touch. 'Turn around,' he commanded instead. 

Doing as he bid, she held her breath as he came up to kneel behind her. The mattress dipped at his weight. Suddenly, his large hands snaked around her waist and rose to cup her full, pert breasts. First he squeezed them, re-familiarizing himself with their luscious shape. Then, catching her achingly tight nipples, rolled them firmly between his thumb and forefinger. 

He pushed his cock into the crack between her firm butt cheeks, and began to grind against her as a hand left her breast and trailed slowly down her stomach. He chuckled as he felt her jump beneath his stroking fingers. He liked that she was still ticklish. 'Do you feel me, Iana?' he whispered hotly into her ear. 'Feel how thick and heavy my cock is, how it throbs to take you? To slide into you, filling you, stretching you, to make you scream as you buck beneath me?' His wandering fingers fell to the wet, quivering apex of her thighs. He paused, fingers resting lightly against the sensitive flesh. He pressed his hips more firmly into her. 'This is what you do to me, Iana. This is what I feel the nights I wake up, sweat drenched and raging with desire. The nights I dream of fucking you till you're raw, till we both collapse from exhaustion.' He slid his hand further down, his fingers gliding cheekily past her most sensitive area to slide along her slippery folds.

Her head fell back against his shoulder with a moan as he stroked her, his movements firm and sure. His hand at her breast kneaded and squeezed in time with his wicked caresses, tweaking her tight nipple unexpectedly now and then, causing her to jerk in his arms as she gasped in pleasure.

'That's it, my darling, enjoy it.' A finger teased at her dripping entrance. Her hips ground down, trying to take it in to her. 'Uh, uh, patience,' he whispered as he nibbled her neck, the soft skin turning red as he bit it.

'Alex!'

He smiled into her neck. 'Beg me.' His finger withdrew to circle her clit. 

She just groaned in dismay and bucked her hips.

'Beg me!' he commanded, his hand on her breast squeezing hard to reinforce his tone.

'Please, Alex, please! Your finger...I need it in me now, I can't wait! Please, oh, please!' She was panting against him, her hips straining towards his hand.

'Well, when you put it like that...' Slowly he slid his finger into her, loving how wet and ready she was. Her walls clenched around it greedily. Chuckling, he slid a second into her, the resistance making him throb with need. Immediately, he worked to bring her to a trembling pitch.

She cried out as he thrust steadily into her, the erotic sound underscoring her frustrated shifting against the bed. One of her hands dropped to desperately urge his thrusting hand on, trying to force him deeper and faster into her tight channel as she neared her climax once again. He complied for a few moments but then, as her breathing changed from fits and gasps into breathy mewls of pleasure, he pulled out from her soaking entrance.

Her whimper of dismay turned into a squeak of surprise as he pushed her face down onto the bed, forcing her hips to jut into the air, her bottom round and enticing. 

Alex groaned at the sight of her bent infront of him. He was the hardest he had ever been, his cock jutting out thick and proud, the length of him aching to plunge into her without mercy. He was losing control of his more primal urges that screamed at him to just fuck her, hang that she hadn't had a man for seven years. And it was winning: he knew he wouldn't be able go slow. He knew that his rougher instincts had been honed in the army, and to have a woman, bent and dripping for him, to have Iana bent and dripping for him, would snap any sense of reality he had as soon as he touched her slicked flesh.

Teeth clenched in preparation, he settled his member against her, bending to kiss up her shoulder, along her neck and to her ear. Biting her earlobe, he whispered to her an undeniable truth.

'You're mine.'

He shoved his cock into her. Iana cried out at his sudden, violent entry, her tight channel struggling to stretch around his thick shaft. She hadn't had a man since Alex and her body had resorted to its tight, virginal state. He pulled out slowly, the achingly unhurried pace forcing her to feel every bit of his throbbing flesh scraping against her soft walls. He withdrew till only the thick head rested against her small entry. He held still and only their strained breathing could be heard. He felt her relax. He thrust roughly into her again, a deep groan coming from deep in his throat as she gasped and clenched around him. Like this, it felt like he was taking her virginity over and over again. But this time...damn him, but it felt so much better. She felt so much better. Though it was so many years ago, he still remembered how taking her innocence had set him alight, knowing that he was her first. And now he knew that he had been her only. Though men surrounded her, so beautiful she could tempt the devil, her body honed to perfection and responsive to the lightest touch, she had not allowed another man to have her. To make her call out his name, to force her to come hard, to fuck her so completely and thoroughly that she begged him to stop. He was the only one, then and now.

Iana's moaning drew his mind back to the moment.

'¬...so unbearably big but it feels so good. Alex, only you, God, only you!'

His control snapped.

Clutching at her hips, fingers digging viciously in to the soft flesh, he withdrew and thrust into her hard, beginning to pound into her. Harsh grunts escaped each time he thrust in to the hilt. She felt exquisite around him, all scorching heat and soft, slippery flesh clutching at his shaft as he impaled her again and again.

Iana pushed back on every thrust, trying to deepen the penetration even as she gasped, moaned and cried out into the mattress, her hands twisting into the sheets. Their copulation took on a madness that surged through their veins, urging them to take as much as they could get, the combined heat causing sweat to run in rivulets down their conjoined bodies.

The sounds of their animalistic mating filled the tent. As Alex plunged into her, his hips met hers with frantic slaps of crazed desire, the camper bed creaking at the power of his vicious thrusts.

It felt like hours. It felt like mere seconds. But in the end, Alex felt himself swell inside her as he neared his climax and, wanting her to feel gratification alongside him, slipped a hand beneath her and stroked her clit firmly. A moment later, Iana arched her back and cried out, her tight sheath rippling and clenching around him as she climaxed. Her release pushed him over the edge and he shouted out as he plunged into her for the last time, the tendons in his neck sticking out as he came hard into her body. He blacked out for a moment as the strongest pleasure he had ever felt swamped his body.

When his sight returned, they were both gasping for air, trying to recover from their respective climaxes. For a few moments he held still, content in feeling her soft skin beneath his hands and her wet channel holding him. But, eventually, he withdrew from her and slowly lowered himself to lie beside her on the bed. Her hips sunk onto the mattress and she gazed at him lazily over her crossed arms. 

He just gazed back, his blue eyes warm as he reached out to remove a wet tendril of hair from her cheek. 'You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.'

Iana's lips twisted into a wry smile. 'Now if that isn't pressure to perform, I don't know what is.'

He growled in mock displeasure and flipped her over. Rolling onto her, he pressed his hips to hers. 'Were you never taught not to back chat a commander?'

To his surprise she forced him over and rolled to sit astride him. She raised a brow. 'Seeing as I'm also a commander, I don't think that applies.' Her hands moved to his shoulders and began to message the muscle. He groaned as his eyes closed, allowing her to move his arms to rest above his head so she could get better access. He was just beginning to imagine how they were going to spend the rest of the night when he felt the rough rasp of a rope encircling his wrists.

His eyes snapped open to look up at Iana, who was smiling slyly back down at him. Frowning, he tried to free himself. His wrists stayed in place, obviously tied to the leg of the bed. 

'I always keep rope next to my bed. A strange habit, but it has served me well.' 

A mixture of disbelief, anger and betrayal flowed through Alex's veins, turning his blood to ice. 'So I am your prisoner again?' he said, his voice low.

She climbed off him and sashayed to where her nightshirt had been thrown to the side. Slipping it over her pleasured body, she turned back to him, her grey eyes glittering in the lamp light with cruel intent. 

Iana Fireheart, Leader of the Free People, smiled. 'My enemy prisoner, to do with what I want.'