Natasha

Ragnar muttered in his sleep. His massive body was as warm as a furnace. She’d slept blissfully all night, but when he talked in his sleep, he woke her. If she hadn’t been enjoying the best dreams she could remember, she wouldn’t have minded.

“Prima…” he muttered.

Who was Prima, she wondered with irritation. Was he dreaming of another woman while she lay next to him. It shouldn’t have irked her but it did. She gave him a small shove. “Ragnar, shut up already.”

His lids fluttered. A growl rumbled in his chest.

“It’s annoying.”

She gave him another shove for good measure. While it didn’t wake him, it roused him enough for him to shift in his sleep. He rolled over, pushing her back to the mattress, practically smothering her with his immense frame. His jaw rested against the curve of her neck. His breath fanned across her skin. The scruff of his beard abraded her.

“Prima… you’re mine.”

Pinned beneath him, Natasha rolled her eyes. Mine? He had a lover he called Prima? Who was this poor and confused and probably not-very-bright woman? Natasha tried to shove him off, but it was impossible. He nuzzled her neck. Something in the back of her mind warned her against allowing him to touch her, especially in such an intimate way. Empty-headed Nymphs liked their lovers’ kisses, but Maidens were far too pragmatic for such foolishness.

When his tongue traced a line along the sensitive flesh of her neck, she shuddered. Strange warmth circled inside. Her breasts tightened and ached. The juncture of her legs felt different too. Her breathing grew more shallow. His hand drifted to her hip. He dug his fingers into her.

What was happening? Any other person, man or woman, would have a broken wrist for touching her in this way, but Ragnar’s hands on her felt agreeable. Maybe even more than agreeable. Almost pleasant. He kissed her neck. She laughed softly, but her laughter stopped when he nipped her. A mixture of worry and outrage swirled inside her.

“That’s it!” she snapped. She managed to free one hand and bang on his shoulder with her fist. “I’m not who you think I am.”

He groaned and lifted his head. His stared at her, blinking, clearly bewildered to find her next to him in bed.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said icily. “But I’d prefer if you not bite my neck.”

“Your neck is mine to bite, Prima,” he muttered, a grin curving his lips and nipping her again.

While the bite didn’t hurt, and might even have been slightly pleasant, Natasha wouldn’t allow him to do as he pleased with her, especially if he was calling her by the name of another woman. Not that she was jealous. He could bite whomever he wanted. She didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

She brought her fist down again, slamming it into the muscular bulk of his shoulder. He grunted.

“I hope that hurt,” she hissed.

He snorted, wrapped his fingers around her wrist and rolled his weight onto her. Pinned beneath him, with her free hand now restrained, she tried to think of a way out of her dilemma. When she’d taught self-defense classes to the Maidens, she showed them time and again how to escape an enemy’s grip. Now that she needed those very skills, she seemed unable to wriggle free or to reach a pressure point. She tried to arch beneath him, but her attempt only drew a chuckle from him. Worse, he pressed her into the bedding, his hard sexual organ jamming into her thigh. It wasn’t altogether revolting, but she couldn’t permit him to go further.

She was a warrior. Not a vessel.

“Stop now, Ragnar, or I will bite you back.”

“Mm… yes.”

“Is this how you treat your woman?” she demanded. “Or should I ask, is this how you treat your women?”

“I don’t have women. Or a woman.”

She wanted to throw Prima’s name back in his face. But that would be pathetic and imply that she cared about his lover, or lovers. Why would she? She was a fierce Maiden, not a clinging Nymph. Ragnar could grope and grind whomever he liked. Today, maybe tomorrow, they’d part ways. One way or another she was getting off Doranna without him. She’d get back to Andromeda and somehow fix things.

“I don’t care, Ragnar,” she said, in a deliberately saccharine tone. “All I ask is that you let go of my wrist and get off me.”

He rolled to his back, drawing a deep sigh. Maidens didn’t have sex and she shouldn’t like his touch. She sprang from the bed and hurried to the front of the ship. She needed distance from Ragnar. Her thoughts ran wild, careening from enjoying the feel of his body pressing against hers, to fury that he dared touch her in such an intimate way.

Her breathing came in ragged gasps. Awkward sensations rioted through her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. Behind her, Ragnar made no move to pursue her. Thank the heavens. When her breathing slowed, she opened her eyes, taking in the sight of Doranna.

Morning light glowed through the window. Most of the view was hindered by the lush vegetation, but in the distance, she could see snow-capped mountains.

The animals here were different than the creatures she’d read about. They were the same species, but four and five times the size of the story book animals. Most were nocturnal, entering a short hibernation state during the day. She would like to see one of the Doranna creatures if only to be able to tell her sister-pilots about the amazing animals. But that chance was gone now.

Something fell between her feet and rolled under the wreckage of the control panel. She knelt, reached between the wires and picked up a small, grey button. Rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, it dawned on her that it came from her uniform. She stood up, gasping to find her shirt pulled tight across a very un-Maiden-like chest. Her shirt gaped open, revealing the plump swell of breasts.

Her pants clung to her legs. If yesterday they seemed a little short, they looked even more absurd this morning. The cuffs stopped several inches from her ankles, revealing slim, chalk-white calves. She looked absurd. Ridiculous. Overnight, her body had grown curves and added height. She looked far more like a Nymph than a Maiden. How would her sister-pilots treat her? If she ever managed to return to Andromeda, her authority would be stripped away, the moment the first person noticed the changes she’d undergone.

Behind her, Ragnar stirred. He got out of bed. She listened as he rifled through the provisions. The man ate all the time, she thought with irritation. Her coat lay over the cockpit chair and she grabbed it, hurriedly putting it on before he noticed how her body had transformed.

She zipped it closed and managed to conceal, or hopefully minimize, the curve of her breasts. Maybe it was something about Doranna that affected her in such a strange way. What would be worse: the grief the other Maidens would give her, or the way Ragnar would torment her about her changing body? She shuddered. This planet held nothing but bad things for her. She needed to get away as soon as possible so she could set her life back on its intended course.

“Ragnar,” she called softly over her shoulder. “Perhaps your people would take me to Pendleton. From there, I could find a way home.”

“No.”

She closed her eyes, trying to tamp down her angry response. “Why not? The sentries at Pendleton don’t need to know it’s you. I won’t say a word. I’ll tell them I got shot down by an enemy ship and that this nice Jaegarian happened to come by and rescue me.”

He emerged from the galley, a hot pepper in his hand, chewing and regarding it thoughtfully. Natasha drew a sharp breath, amazed he could tolerate eating the pepper. It was a delicacy, something enjoyed along with other food, not meant to be eaten alone. The peppers were expensive, prized for their high vitamin content. He munched it like it was a carrot.

“Natasha, I’m not worried about them catching me. I’m worried about them harming you.”

Her heart fluttered for some reason. She set her hand over her chest and willed it to stop its disquieting rhythm. He looked different to her in the soft morning glow. The light burnished his skin with an appealing luminosity. His eyes glinted with warmth. When had he becomes so pleasant-looking? She found it hard to look away. Her hands itched to smooth his messy hair.

“That’s kind of you, but what do you suppose your people are going to do when I arrive on Jaegar?”

“Whatever I tell them. My mother is the sovereign Birgitta.”

Natasha doubted that was true, but it would be best to play along. “Of course, but that still leaves the issue of what would happen to me.”

“Since you’re so small, you could be adopted. I’ll adopt you. You could be the daughter I’ve never had.”

This again. He was baiting her with comments about her child-like stature. Part of her wanted to yank open her jacket and show him her new breasts. Instead she crossed her arms and taunted him with his own words. “And I’ll be the problem child you wish you’d never met.”

He held up the pepper, showing her the seeds. “This has several pits but they’re small.”

He’d already consumed half the pepper, but hadn’t reached the cluster of seeds just yet. She smiled. “Those are seeds. Be sure to chew them thoroughly.”

He nodded, tossing the rest of the pepper into his mouth. She waited for a response from him. With any luck, they’d be screams of pain, but he made no comment about the pepper’s heat and vanished into the galley for more food.

“You’ll like Jaegar,” he said. “It’s a lot like Doranna. Just as cold at night. The animals are smaller.”

Her patience was wearing thin but there would be no way to reason with him. It was clear his mind was made up.

“If you insist, Ragnar.”

“That’s a good girl.”

“Pfft,” she huffed as she turned to a small alcove near the cockpit.

“The ship will be here soon,” he said.

“I can hardly wait.”

A tremor of fear slid through her. If Doranna was dangerous, Jaegar was a hundred times so. The men were all brutes like Ragnar. They had little to no dealings with Andromeda. Her chances of being returned to her home planet were almost nonexistent. She had to get away before the ship came.

At the back of the alcove was a small escape hatch. Ragnar was distracted by the prospect of eating, yet again. He couldn’t see her. Now was the perfect time to flee the ship. The idea came out of nowhere, a panicked solution of simply running away. The Jaegarian ship might arrive momentarily. She should go. Now. Before it was too late. She’d never retreated from anything, but she’d never been held against her will either.

Adrenaline surged through her veins as she weighed her options. She’d crash-landed her ship and failed her mission, but that paled in comparison to being taken prisoner. Her skin burned with shame. She couldn’t allow him to drag her back to his barbarian planet.

Edging toward the hatch, she listened to the noises coming from the galley. The man certainly had an appetite. They probably didn’t have to ration food on Jaegar, like they often had to on Andromeda. Her heart pounding in her chest, she ran her hand along the edge of the hatch until her fingers brushed against the small handle.

She popped the release and eased the door down. The ship lay next to a spread of lush ferns. When she jumped down, she found herself standing waist-deep in the plants. Her heart pounded against her ribs. The idea to escape had come so quickly, she hadn’t given it proper thought. Where would she go?

She scanned the area and hurried toward a grove of trees. It would take him some time to realize she was gone, perhaps a moment or two. The alcove would be too narrow for him, so he’d have to get past the door he’d propped closed. That would buy her a few moments more. All she needed to do was find a safe place to hide until his ship had come and gone. After, she’d think of a way to contact Andromeda. She’d try to connect with one of the Maidens she’d mentored.

When she reached the trees, she heard Ragnar curse. It was faint, but the sound made her smile. “Now, now, little one,” she murmured. “No need to throw a temper tantrum.”

The stillness of the morning was broken by the sound of a growl that came from the direction of the ship. One that sounded like a wolf, but might have been anything. Ragnar might be big and powerful, but she was agile and cunning. She snickered, shimmying up one of the taller trees, reaching the top, just as Ragnar exploded out of the downed prison transport ship.

She listened intently, willing his footsteps to go the other direction, but he stalked through the undergrowth directly to her, stopping at the bottom of the tree. Looking up, he smiled at her. The smile was more of a grimace or lip baring. She felt a small degree of relief that she had a good twenty feet of distance from him.

“How did you find me so quickly?” she demanded.

“I smelled you. My sense of smell is very strong. Especially around you.”

She scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t smell.”

“Come down, little one. Stop misbehaving.”

“I’m not coming down until you leave. When you’re gone, I’m going to use an emergency radio to call my people.”

He rubbed his jaw, running his massive hand over the scruff of stubble. This morning, he’d nuzzled her neck, abrading the tender skin with the rough, short beard. The memory made her shiver with a puzzling awareness. Beneath her pilot’s jacket, her breasts felt taut and heavy. The sensation weakened her cool composure. Nymphs must deal with these destabilizing sensations all the time. She was struck with a sudden wash of sympathy for them.

“You don’t have an emergency radio.”

“I do.”

“Where is it?”

His voice held an edge of irritation. For some reason that made a thrill of power rush through her. It wasn’t like her to taunt anyone, but for some reason, she wanted to torment Ragnar. The way his lips twisted with impatience made her want to provoke him.

She reached to a limb above her and hoisted herself up. Swinging her legs, she looked down at him. “The emergency radio is to the left of the cockpit, third drawer from the top. It’s labeled.”

He frowned. “It is?”

“Yes. It’s a secret code. Sort of.” She schooled her features to maintain a serious expression. “The label says, ‘This is For Sure, One Hundred Percent, Not the Emergency Radio.’”

His expression shifted from irritation to something entirely different. Her body responded again, her skin warming beneath his gaze. He ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth. “Is that so?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you all that.”

“You’re a funny girl, Natasha.”

She pursed her lips and considered his words. No one ever told her that before. Maidens, especially pilots, were expected to be stoic, pragmatic. Not funny. This was a first. A small thrill ran through her. She’d just made a joke, a jest. She’d read about that sort of thing as a child.

The idea of aggravating Ragnar pleased her greatly, now that she was out of his reach.

“Maybe I am funny,” she said. “When I’m in a tree looking down at a Jaegarian.”

“Not for long.” He grasped the tree with both hands.

She yelped and grabbed the main branch, wrapping her arms around it as he began to make the tree sway back and forth. Was he insane? If she fell from this height, she’d get seriously hurt. He wasn’t shaking the tree as hard as he could, but he was probably just warming up. Giving her a warning of what was to come.

“You’re going to make me fall!”

“I will. And I’m going to catch you and teach you some discipline.”

The tree thrashed, not nearly as wildly as he could make it thrash. He could probably pull the tree from the ground, but the movement made her stomach churn with terror, nonetheless. “Stop! Stop! I’ll come down.”

He dropped his hands immediately and brushed them off. “You’d better be telling me the truth.”

Shaking and slightly nauseated, she lowered herself inch by inch. She didn’t want to stay on her perch and get tossed back and forth, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be on the ground next to Ragnar either. He looked angry. Smug and angry. When she got close to the bottom of the tree, he reached up, plucking her from the lowest limb.

He set her on her feet. “Do you know what will happen if you run from me?”

She retreated a few steps. “I suppose this is the part where I say you’ll catch me.”

“I will always catch you.”

A rustle in the brush behind her drew her attention. Something big moved in the thick foliage. Without thinking, she stepped closer to Ragnar. “What was that?”

Ragnar said nothing, but he swept her behind him, wrapping his hand around her arm. When she peered out from behind his shoulder she saw the cause of the noise. A huge, predatory cat stepped into the clearing.

The animal, both majestic and terrifying, eyed them as it slid its pink tongue over its chops. Icy dread washed over her. Weren’t the animals of Doranna nocturnal? The cat looked like the pictures of cougars she’s seen in the old books. Its amber eyes held her spellbound. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Was this the end? Would she die here on Doranna?

If she’d had her telum, she’d try to shoot at the animal, even just to scare it away. But Ragnar had taken it from her. The weapon lay broken somewhere back on her ship.

Ragnar shook his head and snarled. She watched in astonishment as his fangs lengthened. Baring his teeth, he snarled again, this time louder and even more menacing. His shirt sleeve tore as his body seemed to grow before her eyes. He didn’t shift fully into his wolf, but he increased in size enough to make his clothes stretch tightly across the expanse of his powerful physique.

Another cat appeared, a smaller animal than the first. It hissed and spat when it saw Ragnar. He responded by stepping closer. A deep, powerful rumble formed in his chest. He lunged toward the animals and they bolted, back into the brush from where they’d come.

Natasha stared at the spot where, an instant before, the two creatures had been standing. A leafy branch swayed, the only evidence of the animals’ presence. In the distance, the animals crashed through the undergrowth. The sounds faded.

“They’re gone,” she whispered.

“Good.”

His features had returned to normal. His teeth were the only part of him that looked slightly feral. She watched in stunned amazement as they slowly shortened.

Giving her a nudge, he motioned for her to return to the ship. She retraced her steps, trying to wrack her brain for a way to avoid getting on the Jaegarian ship that was surely on its way. Her mind, usually so efficient and methodical, had been thrown into total disarray. The last twenty-four hours had flipped her entire life on its head. Not only was her body changing, but her own people had turned against her. She was on a deserted planet with wild animals.

Almost as dire, her prisoner was now, most assuredly, her captor. He might be telling the truth about being a wolf shifter. He followed behind her, trailing her by only a few steps as she returned to her ship. She clung to the hope that her survival didn’t depend on this oversized, brooding and dangerous Jaegarian.