"Joanna Wylde - Price of Freedom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wylde Joanna)

of them. A hundred men starved for food and sex surrounded her. No wonder she'd been
afraid to look at them.
Their guards hadn├Хt treated her with any respect. Of course, they never treated any of
their women with respect, but this had been somehow different. It was as if she was an
outcast even among her own people. They didn├Хt speak to her, they didn├Хt joke among
themselves. They looked at her with disdain, as if she wasn├Хt worthy to call herself a
Pilgrim.
He had known she was different from the others, too. Even swathed in dark fabric, he
had felt her presence across the room. He could sense her, smell her. She smelled like
woman, and that first instant he saw her, he knew he wanted her.
Of course, they all wanted her. They wanted her even though her fear of them was
palpable, as was the fear of every woman who brought them food. Twice a day, one of them
would wheel a loaded cart in to the mass of starved, frustrated, angry men. The women
would be escorted by two guards, men who carried instruments capable of killing any of the
men instantly, but the fear was still there. After all, men under enough pressure will do
desperate things, even if it leads to their own death. The women had to know that├Й
He had been at the far end of the barracks when she entered, but there was something
about her that drew him to her. Maybe it was the way she carried herself; she was
surrounded by a hundred men starved for a woman's touch, yet she remained calm and
poised. Distant. As if she were walking through a world of her own. He had moved through
the ranks of waiting slaves until he was in front of her, taking the cart and pulling it away
gently. She looked up at him, startled by his action. The guards watched in silence, hands on
their weapons, but he did nothing threatening. He simply eased the cart out of her hands.
Her eyes had been wide with surprise when they met his. They were a brilliant green
and almond-shaped; feline, like a cat. He had felt like he was falling into them. Her face was
pale, slightly dirty, as if she had been working all day. Perhaps cleaning. There was
exhaustion there, and a bit of defiance. She hadn├Хt ducked his gaze, but met it head on.
She might have been afraid of him, but she wasn├Хt going to show it.
In that moment, he├Хd known she should be his. Of course, he had no idea how he├Хd
ever get her. She was probably married├Сall Pilgrim women married young. She had to be in
her mid-twenties, so she might even have several children, and a husband who had a right
to touch her body whenever he wanted. Jess├Х fists clenched at the thought, and he pushed
it from his mind, frowning into the darkness. He didn├Хt want to think about another man with
his woman. Instead, he imagined what she looked like under her robes. Her hair was dark
brown, he knew that much. Her face was pretty, pale skin, luscious ripe lips. She was thin,
her hands roughened from hard work.
What would her hair look like, loose and hanging around her naked body? He formed a
mental image of her standing before him. Her breasts, high and pert, would peek out
between the long locks. She would smile up at him, those green cat-eyes filled with secrets.
She would lick her lips and they would shine with her moisture. Then she would run her eyes
up and down his own powerful, naked form, smiling at him with a sultry question written on
her face. How did he want her? On her knees before him├Йunder him├Йriding him?
Unable to help himself, Jess slipped one hand under his ragged blanket in the darkness
of the barracks. Reaching into his pants, he found the long, smooth length of his cock. His
eyes closed as his fingers grazed the head, a tingle of sensation stabbing through his groin.
He touched the groove on the under side, rubbing one fingertip across it. His muscles
clenched; he stiffened. The delicate touch was almost painful in its intensity.
He turned his thoughts to her again. She would kneel before him, and smile up at him
with that peculiar look only a woman could give. As if she existed to rule and serve him at the
same time. Then she would lift one hand and take his cock into her grasp, running her