A Warrior s Desire - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,20

tongue slid inside.

Shock turned quickly to pleasure at the feel of this strange closeness, at the taste of him and the incredible intimacy.

A groan of that same pleasure rose from his throat.

Their mouths fused, need whipped her about like a flag in a storm, yanking her out of herself, ripping away the control she'd clung to so hopelessly.

She needed.

Sweet Esria, she needed him to hold her, to touch her.

To enter her.

How could the mere touching of mouths send her body into such a spiral of desire? Never had she felt such a thing naturally.

And she'd felt it unnaturally too many times to count.

Esri males couldn't mate an unready female without experiencing pain, so they forced that readiness through enchantment - a violent and unnatural desire that never extended beyond that place between her thighs.

Comparing what she was feeling now, in Charlie's arms, to that miserable parody of true passion was like comparing freedom to slavery.

This hunger overwhelmed and, unlike that forced upon her by an Esri, wouldn't end with a quick mating, she was sure of it.

If she ever gave herself wholly to Charlie Rand, their mating would only make the hunger worse.

For she instinctively knew it would be a hunger that would haunt her and plague her for the rest of her long, long life.

The fear of that misery shook her out of the frenzy of wanting and she wrenched away.

Charlie let her go, though he watched her with eyes that were at once hot and dazed.

"Wow.

That was... amazing.

" Taking deep, calming breaths, willing her heart to quit racing, Tarrys slid away from the tree, putting distance between them before she lost the struggle and returned to his arms.

She didn't want this.

Why was he attracted to her? Why couldn't they simply enjoy each other's company without this hunger? "Tarrys."

Tarrys took a deep, shuddering breath and turned, catching the round green colin fruit Charlie tossed to her.

She hazarded a quick look at his face, but he'd managed to shutter his expression.

"We'd better get going," he said evenly.

She nodded and fell into step beside him as they walked along the edge of the woods.

The comfortable silence they'd traveled in was gone, awareness coloring every move, every look.

But she was determined to find a way back to that easy camaraderie.

After a while, she asked him to tell her another story from his life and he complied, falling into an account of some of his college exploits.

The tension between them slowly eased then exploded again when a flash of gray darted from the brush, a Marceil male dashing out of the woods not twenty yards ahead.

Tarrys's startled gaze collided with Charlie's.

Moments later, a tall, white Esri emerged from the trees.

"Halt, slave!" This Esri wasn't dressed in the uniform of the Royal Guard as Charlie was, but in a tunic of shimmering, faded blue and brown leggings.

As the Marceil pulled up, jerked back by the command, the Esri's white face swiveled toward them, bright yellow-green eyes fastening on them.

Beside her, Charlie tensed, the warrior readying for battle.

Tarrys began to shake.
Chapter 6

Even from this distance, Charlie could feel the aggression, the fury, pouring off the Esri male.

He was tall, maybe over six feet, his body lean but not unsubstantial.

His curly hair and skin were both white as chalk, his eyes as cold as the grave.

Charlie's heart rate slowly lowered, his mind turning deadly calm, his blood pumping through his veins in a tight, pounding rhythm as his body readied for battle.

With the stream on one side and the woods on the other, there was no way to avoid the bastard.

He grabbed Tarrys's wrist, feeling the way she trembled, and pushed her behind him as he continued forward, his walk hard and aggressive.

Caution warred with the primitive need to take down the bastard who terrified Tarrys, even as he suspected it wasn't this man in particular who scared her, but the whole freaking race.

"Charlie, you can't let him touch you."

Tarrys's voice carried to him from behind, low and urgent.

"If he reaches for you, break his arm, then his neck and every bone in his body.

You won't hurt him for more than a few seconds, but you're stronger than he is.

He'll back off if you hurt him."

Not a problem, he thought, smiling grimly.

The Esri turned his attention back to his slave.

The Marceil stood ramrod straight, his eyes huge with fear as he stared at his master.

He was smaller than Tarrys and looked young, no older than a teenager, his lightly tanned head shiny bald.

"You ran," the Esri