Spaniard Untamed (Blood and Thunder 3)

“Presumably, not in that order,” Celina muttered under her breath.

“You won’t be talking back soon,” the gang boss predicted. “Be thankful you’re worth more to me unblemished.”

Closing off her thoughts, Celina didn’t reply. The experience of growing up in a starkly regimented orphanage helped her do this. The matron at the home regularly accused Celina of mute insolence because she would never cry. The woman’s complete lack of sensitivity hadn’t allowed her to figure out that Celina was too frightened to cry.

She had to find a way out of this so she could one day return to discover if Marissa had survived the brutality of the slavers. If she showed how frightened she was, the gang members would only torment her more. They were armed to the teeth and wouldn’t hesitate to use their weapons. Men without conscience, whose only thought was profit, they had driven their human cargo across Europe for three days straight. Crushed in the back of a van, the women had been given one bottle of water to share between them in all that time, with the gang only stopping to allow them to use the facilities at various gas stations.

“It wouldn’t hurt her to give me a blow job,” Celina overheard the first tormentor comment to his boss.

“Suck your filthy cock?” The gang boss barked a laugh. “That won’t encourage the bitch to behave well at auction. Don’t worry,” he added with chilling certainty as he turned back to Celina. “You’ll get your chance to suck dick. As soon as you’re sold, you can suck mine.”

Determined not to be provoked, Celina lowered her eyes. She’d tried to escape to find food but had been recaptured along with another girl called Amber. She had no intention of putting her fellow captives in more danger by losing her cool.

“Get over here!” the gang boss instructed his goons. “We’ll take inventory, then we’ll move this stock.”

“Those vigilantes still on our tail?”

The man who had tormented Celina asked the question, and it provoked a furious look from his boss. He’d said too much, Celina guessed. Her heart soared at the thought of rescue. She would survive this. Closing her eyes, she rested back to conserve her strength for whatever came next. She should have expected that to be the slaver who had taunted her, returning for a second shot.

“You’ll be perfect for one of our regulars,” he said, bringing his face so close, his stinking breath

made her want to gag. “He loves young girls like you. He’s as rich as Croesus and as fat as a pig. He buys all our best young girls to rape before he beats them to death.”

It was harder to force her expression to remain neutral when she was shaking with terror inside, but she had no intention of giving this scum the satisfaction of seeing how frightened she was. She’d face the fat-man hurdle if and when she had to. For now, it was enough to be alive.

Hours passed and nothing changed. As time dragged on and hope of a rescue faded, she remembered getting through bad times at the orphanage by thinking herself somewhere else. She always retreated to the same place, a lush green forest where birdsong soothed her and she felt safe and warm. A clear stream ran through the forest. Gurgling over the rocks, it fed a pond where she could clean herself and swim. She was deep in this dreamscape when the door suddenly crashed open. Shrinking back against the wall, she was deafened by screams from the women imprisoned with her as a team of men in black combat gear hurtled down the steps. The slavers scattered. Using the women as shields, one of them pointed a gun at Celina’s head. “Let us walk out of here, or she dies,” he threatened calmly.

Helpless to do anything, she could only freeze and wait.

Everything happened so fast after that; she had no idea how the balance of power could change so quickly. A member of the team took out the gang boss while a giant of a man came to kneel at her side. She cowered away from him, having no idea if he was any better than the rest. For all she knew, this was a rival gang of slavers come to steal valuable stock. A balaclava covered much of his face, but now she took a closer look at him, something about his manner reassured her. Unlike the slavers, he smelled clean and looked professional, but it was his eyes that held her interest. Clear, bright, and almost black, they were backlit by keen intelligence. She would judge him on his actions, she decided, awarding him his first brownie point when he produced bolt cutters and set to work on her chains. His physical presence was brutally masculine, and she tingled with awareness as the chains fell away. Instead of fear when he helped her to her feet, she felt shockingly attracted.

He stared at her intently. “Are you okay?”

His smooth baritone intrigued her even more. His voice was lightly accented. He was Spanish, she guessed, though English was their common language. “A bit stiff,” she admitted tensely. When he released her to go and help the other women, she rested her hand on her arm where he’d held her. She could still feel his touch like a brand.

“Join the other women,” he urged, swinging around to face her.

She tore her gaze away from him to see those of her companions who were able to walk filing up the steps, hopefully to safety.

He confirmed this, assuring her with a nod of encouragement. “You’ll be safe.”

She resisted the temptation to run out of that terrible cellar. Filled with the stink of death and cruelty, it was truly an outpost of hell. But she had work to do. “I’ll stay and help those who’ve been injured,” she insisted. “I can translate for the women. I can calm them. I won’t leave until they’re all safely out of here.”

“That would help us,” the man agreed curtly. “Thank you.”

Her interested gaze followed him as he went to help with the evacuation, and her heart thundered like crazy when he turned around to give her one last assessing stare.

~~o0o~~

Strong. Angry. Passionate. With eyes that tore at his soul, reminding him why he did this work. The girl he’d just tended to was in need of more care and attention, but she had decided to stay and help. That impressed him. She impressed him. Small and filthy, but still defiant, and clever enough to be wary, even with him, there had been an immediate connection between them, a connection of body and mind. Maybe because she was tiny and he was anything but, the urge to carry her out of here, whatever she said, and take her somewhere quiet, wash her, talk to her, find out more about her, was nagging at him. And at his body, he conceded. That connection between them was crackling like electricity. They only needed to be close to each other for it to fire up. Her voice strummed through his senses, reminding him of all the softer things in life he’d had to put on hold for this.

Which was exactly what he didn’t need. Not now. Not when there were still slavers on the loose.

Their stares met briefly as he crossed the room to help another woman. The girl was busily employed, but her glance kept flicking back to him. He felt her interest. More than interest. But there was no time for that now. Not yet.

~~o0o~~

With one last intense stare that sent hot blood racing through Celina’s veins, the man turned his back on her to help an older, badly shaken woman up the steps. Would a callous slaver be so gentle and so courteous? She had to hope not.