The crippling thing, however? Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
The tent flap pulled open before he could get lost in the fantasy of her in that black leather dominatrix outfit, wielding a crop while he was tied to this tree, naked and ready. Excitement pulsed in his chest but quickly morphed to annoyance when the same two guards who’d strung him up stepped back into the room.
“Ladies…I was just thinking about you. How about some water? I’m parched.”
“No one will know…”
“I want…”
The Amazon’s thoughts and the way they inched forward put Titus on instant alert. His back tightened. He shifted against the ropes wrapped around his wrists. “Now hold up, girls.”
Neither stopped. Both looked ready to devour him whole.
Shit. He twisted in his bonds. “The redhead said I was to be left alone.” When neither backed down, he shot a look at the one on the left, the one eyeing him like fresh meat. “Hey. I know you. You’re Medusa’s sister, right? The resemblance is uncanny.”
“Have you ever seen a chest plate like that?”
The blonde laid her hand over the seal of Odysseus. Titus flinched. Though they weren’t touching his skin, they were way too damn close. “Ladies—”
“Take it off him,” the brunette said. “I don’t care about the damn breast plate.” “I want to see his muscles beneath.”
Oh, holy fuckballs, no.
Titus jerked hard on the rope. It scraped against the tree and loosened. But before he could pull free, the blonde wrapped her hand around his throat.
Emotions rushed from her hand into his skin and whipped through his body, condensing with the force of a bullet from a gun directly into his chest, stopping him from yanking free.
Excitement, arousal, lust bombarded him from every side, stripping away all thought, all ability to move. His muscles contracted and released. Pain rushed through his neck and ricocheted through his mind. His ability to read their thoughts fled. He tried to fight against the force, ground his teeth to stay in control, but the second Amazon tore off his breastplate, cape, and tunic and stripped him to the waist before he could find the strength to stop her.
“Like marble,” the brunette said in awe, her eyes wide. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Touch him,” the blonde answered, still holding him pinned against the tree with her hand. “Is he as good as he looks?”
They were talking about him as if he wasn’t even there. As if he was a sculpture, not a man. He struggled beneath the blonde’s hold, but the emotional transfer still radiated through him, like flickering electricity, zapping him of every ounce of strength. And it was getting stronger, the lust and excitement in her flowing faster with each passing second.
The brunette lifted her hand. A strangled no! echoed throughout the room, and belatedly, Titus realized it had come from him. But he couldn’t do anything to stop her. Her hand landed against the bare skin of his chest, and another blast of emotions pummeled his body.
His arms sagged against the ropes. Pain ricocheted up his shoulders. Voices echoed through the tent, but his vision swam, and he couldn’t make out the shapes around him anymore. From what seemed a great distance, canvas rustled and footsteps echoed. Followed by another voice. This one clearer. Softer. Oh so familiar. One he struggled to put with a name.
“Let go of him.”
Pressure eased. Hands lifted from his skin. Titus’s legs buckled, and he slid to the ground, landing with a thud against the floor. The ropes loosed from the tree and fell to the ground as his arms dropped.
“What the hell did you do to him?”
Someone knelt at his side. A female, but he couldn’t see who. Couldn’t read her thoughts. She lifted a fuzzy arm, and Titus tensed, mentally preparing himself for another zap that would knock him even further on his ass. But when her hand landed softly against his shoulder, there was no pain. Only warmth. A warmth that soothed the electrical charges flickering through him and eased the agony spiraling in his veins.
“We didn’t—”
“Back up! Let him breathe.”
Natasa. That was Natasa’s voice arguing with the guard. And oh yeah, that was her silky hand sliding across his bare shoulder toward his neck, tipping his face up so she could look in his eyes, bringing not only heat but arousal to his flesh—his own arousal, no one else’s.
Her gaze raked his features. Electricity arced between them—the good kind. And slowly her face came into view. Gemlike green eyes, flawless pale skin. Ruby red lips and the cutest spray of freckles, right over the bridge of her nose. “Tasa…”
Something dark—something hot—flashed in her eyes, but before he could decipher what it meant, her jaw hardened, and she let go.
She pushed to her feet. “He’s not to be touched. Do you understand? He’s my prisoner, not yours. Get the fuck out of my tent.”
“But he’s—”
“Mine. Now go.”
A thrill shot through Titus at her words, but when he caught sight of the Amazon’s tightening muscles, it quickly shifted to worry.
They both straightened as if they’d been slapped. Both reached for swords strapped to their hips. The one on the right mumbled, “We’ll see about that. When the queen—”
“The queen already knows,” Natasa said in a commanding voice. “Turn around and ask her yourself.”
The guards whipped toward the tent opening. Titus struggled to see past them. Another female stood in the doorway. But instead of being hard and masculine like the others, she was tall, feminine, and gorgeous. And she was also staring at him as if he were a meal served up on a golden platter, just for her.
“…Argonaut. The perfect specimen. Mine, not yours, foolish girl.”
His head was still in a fog. He wasn’t sure who’d thought the words, but he was pretty sure they’d come from the female in the doorway. The one whose eyes were practically glowing with excitement. The one, he realized belatedly, who had to be the Queen of the Amazons.
Skata. His situation had not exactly improved.
“Astiria, Lysa,” the queen said, her eyes still locked on Titus, “step back.”
Both guards did as they were instructed, moving toward the queen and the other guards behind her, but they didn’t look thrilled. And even though Natasa drew in a deep breath as if tragedy had been averted, Titus could see that she wasn’t convinced either.
The queen spoke in hushed words to her guards, her attention still fixed on Titus. The two who’d stripped him of his dignity filed out of the tent, followed by the two who’d remained stoic behind the queen. After several tense moments, the queen finally dragged her gaze away from Titus and focused on Natasa. “No one will bother you for the time being. Alert us if you need any…help.”
Her gaze strayed back to Titus, and no, he did not like the flash of lust he caught in her blue eyes or the word that clearly came from her thoughts: “Finally…”
The tent flap swung closed behind them. Natasa knelt at his side, slid her strong arms under his, and helped him to his feet.
This time he didn’t tense at her touch. His whole body relaxed, then came to life as if she had some magical ability to ease the aftershocks of the emotional transfer that had—only minutes ago—knocked him on his ass. “Don’t think that one…likes me very much.”
“I think she likes you too much.” Natasa grunted, pushing him up. “Are you okay?”