One of the things I like about stories featuring ass-kicking heroines, is when they find themselves head to head - or fist to fist! - with the hero. Which made me think of a little story I wrote for Changeling Press some time ago. Soldier is part of the Rogue Warriors series of novellas, which in its turn is part of the whole Tales of the Damned cycle which began with the post-apocalyptic Loving the Wolf. Tanya is a slightly different kick-ass heroine. She's a soldier, who can fight with the best and never gives up even against a stronger foe. But her mind is being controlled; she knows it and fears it, and is desperately trying to stop it. Unfortunately, she's blaming her captors, not her own people...
ROGUE WARRIORS (Ebook Collection)
By Marie Treanor
Available Now from Changeling Press
Soldier : Deep in a civilian prison in the heart of Dome City lies prisoner of war Sergeant Tanya Blake -- the West's secret weapon. Sorin, a powerful Dragul mind-specialist, is called in to investigate the violent prisoner, whose abused mind needs all his skill to heal. Tanya is both attracted to Sorin’s gorgeous, leather-clad body, yet repelled by the power of his mind as it invades hers. She’s caught in the grip of desires that hover between sex and murder.
She kicked out at his chest, fast and vicious and without warning. And yet her foot never made it. She didn’t see him move, but she felt the force of his parry and then he held her foot in his left hand, totally immovable. He didn’t even look pleased with himself. Furious at that more than anything else, she lashed out with her fist, and inevitably, he caught that in his other hand, even recoiled it slightly to lessen the smack.
His hand was warm and pale on her dark skin, his fingers like steel bands. She couldn’t even $move the captured limbs, never mind free them. His strength appalled her. It felt -- inhuman.
With a supreme effort, she slowed her panting breath and lifted her gaze from their locked hands to his face.
At last, weakness! For the first time, she saw definite confusion in his terrible eyes. And something else, something that looked -- surely -- like… lust. Hot and clouded, hungry.
The governor’s son, after all?
The pressure was back, and the sharpness. Easy in the end…
She gave a low laugh and, testing the water, slid her tongue along her lower lip. As if he couldn’t help it, his gaze followed. She glanced down at his crotch and yes there was definite sign of arousal. Something grew in those sexy leather pants.
She leaned into him, ignoring her captured hand and foot, and feeling her capitulation, he relaxed his hold. She pushed herself across the mattress, right between his legs. She let her breasts brush against his chest, shocked herself by the pleasure of the grazing touch on her nipples.
His breath was no longer even. Fiercely triumphant, she smiled and placed her lips close to his ear.
“You want me? I haven’t had a man in months and you’re very sexy, you know, so very, very sexy…”
His breath caught, but he made no move to hold her or touch her. It was she who closed the extra centimeter to the heated bulge between his legs. Deliberately, she pressed herself into it, felt it rock hard and huge against her clothed pussy.
She ignored the pulse of desire that shot through her. It was exciting to tease him, to affect him so deeply and be the one in control. In truth, through everything else, it turned her on.
Opening her mouth, she flicked her tongue around the lobe of his ear, and along the line of his jaw -- oddly smooth and stubble-free -- and with sudden ferocity, she seized his mouth in hers.
His cock leapt against her. Triumph had made her wet, but at least her own unexpected arousal made it easier to kiss him as if she meant it, combining desire with hate and anger as she bit at his lips and tongue, grinding her mouth into his.
At her first assault, his mouth had opened, as if in shock. But he didn’t jump her, made no response at all -- until she began to rub herself against his cock, up and down as though she was riding him. Then his mouth moved, abruptly changing position to bear down on hers. His tongue lashed hers, held it captive in her own mouth while his cock ground between her thighs.
There came an inkling then of rare, blinding pleasure, of a desire so strong it frightened her; she didn’t even know if it was hers or his. Either way, she was losing control, she had to act or…
She slid her hands up his leather-clad arms to his shoulders, his neck, circling it, tracing it. She opened her mouth wider, surrendering it. And pressed with her thumbs on his windpipe. Hard. Furiously. Determinedly. Nothing could stop her. He was dead. Dead.
Or is he? :). Just for fun, what do you think happens next?