wish I’d made it so easy.”
Her ears twitched. He had to fight not to stroke the damn things.
Where the hells had that impulse come from?
He cleared his throat. “We’ve established you’re not a killer. You are, however, a liar.” He hooked the harness at her waist and pulled her toward him, hips and pussy first, her bound arms stretching as her back arched. “With critical information about people I care very much about. That puts you in a problematic position.”
He tugged the waist rope right and left, a barely noticeable flicker of movement, but the impact was intense.
She moaned, her body shuddering.
As intended. The small shift increased the blood flow and sent the cords rubbing against her already sensitive, slippery cunt.
“Move and the burn will only grow worse.” A tiny shift and he repositioned the rope once more.
Her thighs trembled, her body shook. He could see her fighting the impulse, and yet her legs spread wider, her hips thrusting toward him. The pleasure too intense to ignore.
She sobbed. “I-I tell you nothing more.”
“Wrong.” He plucked at the rope again, a musician playing his favorite song. “You’ve already told me so much. Soon you’ll give up everything.”
A tapping noise echoed through the cave.
For the first time he saw something besides disgust, desire, and defiance in her gaze. He saw panic.
“N-no hurt.” She clearly knew more than he did about what was out there.
“Quiet.” He seized his ax. “I can’t protect you if I can’t assess the threat.”
Her eyes went wide, her startled gaze probing his, as if she’d learned something from him rather than the other way around.
He fought the climb of heat up the back of his neck. Of course, he had to protect her. She had critical information he needed.
Still, maybe he’d been a bit too vigorous in his defense.
Habit. It didn’t help that she was small and innocent-looking, or that she shuddered with pleasure every time he brought his hand near her skin or the rope tightened against her cunt.
The knocking sound came again, a welcome distraction from his thoughts.
The odd noise was followed by the drag of something sharp against the rocks.
Widening his stance, he gripped his weapon tighter. Didn’t sound human. “What’s out there?”
“Sharluff.”
Well, now everything was crystal clear. “Explain.”
“Sharluff, pack service guide.” Her chains rattled as she strained toward him, genuine concern in her voice, her pointed ears twitching, suddenly a thousand times more cooperative than she’d been moments ago. “L-looking for me. Not danger to you.”
Was she talking about the massive six-legged, feathered creature she’d had with her at the camp? If so, that thing hadn’t appeared harmless. He remembered a tanklike body with a sharp beak and even sharper claws.
Worse, it had tracked its owner straight to the hideout, creating an easy path for someone else to follow.
Weapon raised, he stalked closer to the big rock blocking the exit.
“What you do?”
Ignoring her, he pressed his ear to a small crack, the swish of a big body pacing, the occasional peck of rock, and the musky scent of animal unmistakable.
He listened for more clues. He didn’t hear anything human, but if it was someone as well trained as he was, he wouldn’t.
Only one way to find out for sure.
Propping his ax to the side, he gripped the edge of the rock.
“H-he innocent.” Her tone was sharper than before, her worried expression the opposite of the evil villain she was supposed to be. “L-leave alone.”
He briefly considered using her concern to his advantage, but dismissed the idea. The animal was too much of an immediate threat, its presence equivalent to a neon sign saying look for my captive here. He needed to get rid of it before it attracted attention.
Putting his back into it, he slid the stone along the track. Slowly.
“No hurt!”
Her concern for the animal was almost touching, but then again, several corrupt, murderous Councilmen back on New Earth were known vegetarians.
A bellow issued from the creature. As if it had caught the sound of his master’s voice along with her scent and wanted in.
Perfect.
He inched the stone farther to the side. He wanted an opening large enough for the creature to slip its head through, but too narrow for the rest of its body to follow.
Right on cue, a brown beak shoved through the crack, nostrils at the end of the beak flaring wide.
Grif reached for his ax.
“Females not hurt. Th-they alive and o-okay.” His captive’s words reached him in a rush. “Used for mining whalh metal. N-nothing else.”
His arm stalled in