Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 43

A big thanks to all my readers so far who have been along for the telling of my adventure! I will soon have a new novel as well it's about a D/s universe.

The impossible Prize

Aurianne paused as she set down her fine catch of tawny rabbits, five in all, her skin prickled and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end warning of danger. Her shoulder still ached from today's hunt but she ignored the sensation, all senses focusing on the darkened rear of the cave, willing her eyes to adjust to the gloom.

She drew her dagger, barely drawing breath herself straining to hear every minute sound. The remnants of warm coals still smoked in the stone encircled hearth, the kindling and firewood exactly as she had left it. However the huntress in her told her in no uncertain terms someone had been, or was still here. If not in the cave then close by.

Aurianne trusted this instinct implicitly. Everything was where she had left it, but still her observations did not allay her reservations that her sanctuary had been breached. Cautiously blade in hand she made her way toward the dark recesses of her shelter. She felt so alive at this moment, every sense straining for a sound, sight, or scent, of the enemy. Slowly her eyes were adjusting to the lack of light and she scanned every boulder and dark recess for the unseen threat.

Aran crouched still as stone he was a hunter too, and the hunt had been long. His hard bronzed body unmoving, taking in the vision of the woman he had never hoped to find. His thick mane of golden hair framed his strong stubbled face, his green eyes burned even in the darkness.

Before him at last the red headed archer, a symbol of many things to him after his long hard sojourn in the wastes. This proud and feisty woman was his key to readmission to his rightful place, the end to his exile. Capturing her would be proof of his prowess to all, and even more important she had become a feast to his eyes and his sexual imagery. She was no easy, frightened little girl like Maya so willing to please, or the delicate, easily crushed flower like Frances had been, nor was she the haggard, compliant wife of a dead man captured on a village raid. No, she was unlike any other women he had ever set eyes on. Every line of her body infused with grace and pride, strong and true, like a lioness.

Avidly Aran's eyes consumed her form as she drew closer, she was more than pleasing to him, she was magnificence to him in a way he did not fully understand. He felt his long deprived body responding to her proximity and he tried to will his lustful response aside. However her beauty assailed him, her long tanned legs perfectly muscled, her stomach sculpted and flat, provocatively peeking out from in-between the waistband of the short hide skirt and the hardened leather bodice. Breasts round and firm rising and falling with each breath, the long red ponytail tied with rawhide that reached right down her back cascading like thick rope over her lean, tanned shoulder.

Aran willed his eyes away from the promise of her breasts with some effort, determined he would not let this woman best him again. His body bunched, wound like a tightly coiled spring, he had deliberately divested himself of his weapons even his sword lest he betray his presence in a moment of carelessness. He did not need a weapon to subdue this quarry, and he had spent many weeks ruminating over the deliciousness of this moment. Even though deep down he had never thought it would truly come.

The cave was deep but the ceiling dropped away markedly toward its rear making it usable for little more than storage. Aran watched the statuesque woman crouch as she advanced, she was very close to him now, he could hear her each intake of breath and the soft sound of her feet scuffing on the stone. She would see him at any moment...

The golden warrior sprang toward the object of his desire and exile, his strong hands reaching for the wrist that held the blade. Aurianne recoiled in fright, instantly she knew it was a mistake. She was hardly the disciplined fighter Aran was, and that moment of her indecision cost her dearly.

She clung to the knife with all she had, trying vainly to drive it anywhere into the man's bronzed flesh as his superior weight pushed her to the hard floor. She was a woman of uncanny strength and size and had bested many of the men in practice bouts in her village, and on the battlefield too.

However this man who assailed her was no mere farmer playing at soldier, he was a killer tried and true, with strength that was far superior to hers. Aurianne was in truth terrified to encounter this savage man again, her heart leapt in fear when she had sighted the familiar bejeweled hands and the golden mane of hair of her nemesis who bore no name. She could not believe he had located her, even whilst she was desperately trying to gain a target with her knife these thoughts burned her.

Aran however was not hindered by fear, surprise, nor guilt, and proceeded to pin the woman with all his weight, twisting her wrist in an all out effort to make her drop the blade that was perilously close to his ribs. His other hand on her ponytail pulling her head backward, hindering her movement and vision.

Fear welled in Aurianne's heart, its icy grip in her very veins as she felt the burning pain on the flesh of her wrist, her skin being twisted brutally in an inexorable move by her attacker to divest her of the weapon. Locked in this desperate struggle her mind only focused on the tip of her blade and the fact she was losing the battle of brute strength by slow degrees. Aran surprised at the woman's physical power, but quietly confident he would be the victor, reveling in her scent and her closeness.

Aurianne close to panic was fighting to maintain any clarity of thought, suddenly realizing she still had the luxury of one free hand at her disposal. She clawed at Aran's face with her nails aiming for his eyes, any underhanded action to make him stop or pause, that she might find purchase on the blade that was steadily slipping from her control. Aran blocked her defensively and instead Aurianne scratched deep bloody furrows down his cheek.

Her action only seemed to incense the warrior all the more, further increasing his pressure on her knife arm. Though he did release her ponytail in favor of pinning down her errant hand. Her head now free Aurianne twisted under him biting him deeply on the shoulder up close to his neck, the taste of him, his blood, and his salt sweat in her mouth. Aran roared in pain and Aurianne gasped as the knife she had so striven to keep hold of clattered to the stone floor beyond any hope of her redemption.

The weapon now safely beyond her reach, Aran in a swift, well practiced movement let go of Aurianne's arms placing both his large hands about her graceful neck and applied pressure cutting off her air. He dug his thumbs in cruelly at the base of her throat. The woman reared, scratched, kicked, and bucked beneath him, but the warrior had her pinned securely beneath his weight, further increasing the pressure on her airway. It mattered not that her hands were now free.

Aurianne was not like the others, instead of giving up she fought on, her free hands now tearing at Aran blindly. Pulling his hair, scratching at his exposed flesh. It was obvious to the warrior this proud and beautiful woman, was hoping he would kill her, rather than anything else he may have had in mind.

Even as the fight ebbed from her, Aran took note of the hate and accusation burning in her storm gray eyes. He had never seen a man, let alone a woman look at him in that way before, and he found it somewhat unnerving. Being what he was her actions somehow goaded his ego, the savage fight in her making him want to conquer her all the more, to drive his male superiority home.

Aran had already decided that he would do with her as he would with any woman he had taken in a raid. If he could not have her mind it did not matter to him, however he would surely have her body. Bennett cared not for her virginity or her looks, or even who she belonged to, only that Aran brought her before him to regain his rightful place in his clan.

Aurianne gasped and fought as best she could, she could see the animal look in the savage's eyes, the thinly veiled lust and need. The woman in her sensing what was to come, the thought more dreadful to her than death. Death was clean, honorable, at least. She had no desire to be any barbarian's slave, and her mind was made up, she was not going to be. Love was something special to be given, as yet she had never found any man worthy of giving love too. This was rape, not love.

Realizing to continue the fight would be folly, and that she did not have the ability to match this man's strength or fighting prowess hand to hand, she let him believe he had at last subdued her. However Aurianne was far from done.

She felt the pressure leave her bruised and raw throat. It felt so good to be able to draw breath again, closing her eyes in an attempt to lull him into the false belief of her surrender. This brute was predictable, she felt him fumbling with his clothing and she knew what was to come next. Through slitted eyes she could see his self satisfied grin as he prepared to take what she would never willingly surrender.

Aran looked down at the archer's beautiful face, high color in her cheeks enhancing her beauty all the more, her skin had the qualities of a fine porcelain doll. He was most pleased she had the sense to know when she was beaten. What a fine slave girl she was going to make, he would be the envy of all on his return.

He caressed her cheek with his calloused, gold ringed hands, her skin was so soft and smooth, in its youthful prime. Her lips full and sensual, the long amber lashes kissing her high cheekbones as her eyes remained closed.

"That's better." He said hoarsely.

The woman did not respond, nor did she pull away from his touch, as his fingers traced the aristocratic lines of her long neck, running over her clavicle and down into the enticing valley between her rapidly rising and falling breasts; where he could feel the fluttering beat of her heart. Exciting him, enticing him.

She felt his hot breath on her skin and his mouth and tongue followed. Aurianne's hand ever so slowly felt for the loose stone, grasping it solidly in her fist, not betraying the slightest movement. Her assailant was so caught up in touching and inspecting his new prize on the precipice of his lovemaking, he did not at first notice the threat.

Aran's sixth sense was all that saved him, as it often had on the battlefield. An instant before the stone connected with his temple he was already twisting clear, the missile hitting him harmlessly in the bruised shoulder. The attack may have failed but Aurianne was on her feet heading for her weapons at the mouth of the cave. Aran recovered himself swiftly pursuing her, hindered by his partially shed clothing.

Aurianne knew she was faster than he, as she scooped up her bow and burgeoning quiver from the ground, praying Isabou was indeed close by. This was her moment to escape, she had no idea of what she would do once she did reach freedom. However that was all very far from her mind at this moment.

Aurianne had not anticipated the tip of Jhary's drawn rapier at the top of the narrow, winding, pathway, which she almost ran herself through on. She would rather have died the clean death the sword offered, but when faced with the option found she could not willingly follow through. The lapse of the few surprised seconds was all Aran needed to end his pursuit, twisting Aurianne's arm hard up behind her back, divesting her of her weapons, and binding her wrists expertly with hide strips.

On her hands gleamed the flash of antique gold and rubies. Aran was ever avaricious when it came to the spoils of capture and war, looting the maimed and the dead were something he could never resist. It revolted many individuals but not this young man, the captured and the dead had no use of riches nor finery. He tore it from her finger to add it to his own plethora of adornments.

He balked as he held the familiar object between his finger and thumb, the twin dragons of the design were no stranger to him. He had worn this very ring thinking it lost after the battle for Aurianne's village. He laughed, a deep throaty sound.

Jhary stared at him, he had no idea what the big man had found so amusing about a piece of acquired jewelry. Aran slid his returned prize on to his barren wedding finger. Jhary just stood, eyeing the red headed amazon with awe and surprise.

"Don't get any ideas." Aran found the breath to snarl possessively. "She is MINE."

Jhary just shrugged, pushed his errant straw colored hair back behind his ears and sheathed his blade.

"No worries, any time." He quipped cheerfully. The two men and their prisoner went back into the cave.

*****

"Chilly." Jhary stated rubbing his hands together, as he rekindled the fire to fierce warmth. Nothing seemed to ruffle the bard's cheerful enthusiasm for life. Aurianne sat stiff backed against the cold stone wall as the intruders invaded her sanctuary and made use of her few belongings. She felt defiled.

Aran sat opposite her gnawing on a beef bone, scowling at her with his piercing green eyed stare. The warrior seemed to look right through her, into places she would rather he did not. Aurianne found his animal glare most uncomfortable, she had not felt this small and insecure since she was a tiny girl holding her Mother's skirts while they navigated the fear and anarchy of war.

Until this moment Aurianne had not thought of the possible personal sacrifices her beautiful Mother must have made to buy her the safety she had enjoyed. At the thought of all her beloved Mother must have endured, tears welled in her eyes, she did not want these men to witness her weakness. Aurianne wanted to feel powerful, she wanted to feel brave, but she was not a man taken prisoner, to suffer torture or execution. For her the boundaries would not be so black and white. She already knew this man wanted far more than just information, or her life. She had thwarted him for the time being, but for how long could she continue to do so? The idea was too terrible to contemplate.

The men ate a great portion of the hindquarter of beef they had roasted over the fire. In preference to the freshly killed rabbits. The meal done with, and the men sated Aurianne noticed the blond warrior's attention again returning to her with dread. She looked away, she had no desire to encourage him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stand, and her heart took a dive in her chest as he came toward her.

She did not look up from the earthen floor seeing only the scuffed brown toes of his well worn boots as he came to stand close by. Still she did not look at him, even when he crouched down beside her. She felt the pressure of his strong hand cupping her face to look at his, the gold on his hands warm to the touch. The large diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires glinting evilly in the firelight. She let him turn her head but did not meet his eyes, determined she would give him no satisfaction.

"I have looked long for you, Aurianne." He said huskily.

She blanched. How did he know her name? Did he extract it from Darius, oh poor Darius? Then she recalled the big man shouting it to the night, along with his terrible request. She should have been brave, she should have been merciful.

"And now I have you I can at last return home. They blame me for bringing your vengeance on them."

Aurianne feeling the large warm hand on her face, his big fingers digging into her skin, and anger welling in her heart.

"You deserve my vengeance!" She spat. "I wronged you?" She said incredulously, eyes wide. "You were the ones who killed MY people, destroyed MY village,....... KILLED MY MOTHER!" Aurianne's sudden outburst was brimming with vitriol and hate, and she could not resist the temptation to spit into his face so close to her own.

The warmth of the large hand left her cheek and chin, returning with a jarring open handed slap which resounded loudly in the hollow of the cave. Aurianne accidentally bit her lip as a result of the unexpected impact, she waited for him to hit her again but he stayed his hand. Instead he got to his feet, his large fur cape swishing in the dust on the floor.

"It matters not girl, from this day on whether you like it or not you will learn to be mine." With that he walked away.