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Ryker’s cell is a small stinking hole of loneliness with straw strewn on the floor, no windows, the clink of chains. The rebel lies on what looks like a mattress, his toned body sprawled out on it, one bare muscled arm above his head as he stares up at the ceiling. He wears nothing on his top half, and his legs are swaddled in black leather breeches. I can’t help that my eyes drink him all up. Despite his filth and the ribs sticking out from his sides, he is beautiful, his chest muscled and scarred; his arms powerful; his stomach taut and triangling down to firm hips.

I drag my gaze away and nod at the defender who’s allowed me in: his old sparring partner, Bjorn. He was surprised when a human woman turned up alone on a tuskian. Luckily, I’ve learnt to ride the gorgeous beasts the past few months. They aren’t that different from horses after all, and riding horses was once one of my daily pleasures when I was back on Earth.

I was surprised Bjorn didn’t question me. I think he assumed I was there to give his friend a little filthy surprise before his death. Ryker wishes. I step into the cell now and the rebel turns lazily to look at me with his green eyes, but then surprise registers on his face. “My captor,” he says.

I can’t help my eyes trail down his long body again, and the pulsing color beneath: red and purple, anger and desire. “I brought you some food,” I say, holding the box of leftovers I’d stolen from the great hall.

He swings his long legs off the bed and sits up. “How kind. A last feast.” I frown slightly at the mention of last. “Bring it then,” he says, beckoning me towards him.

I jut my chin out and walk towards him. He puts his hand out and takes the box, opening it and smiling. “All my favorites. How did you know?” He starts pushing meat into his mouth, eating in a way that is quite frankly disgusting. “Sorry to eat like a savage,” he mumbles between chews, “but I cannot tell you how long it has been since I’ve eaten food like this.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I say with a raised eyebrow. “I can see with my own eyes.”

“It is almost worth dying just to eat a good meal again. Come,” he says, patting the filthy mattress beside him, “join me. I might even share a bit of my pinetee potatoes.”

“I’m fine standing here,” I say.

“Come now, will you deprive a poor creature hours away from having his head torn from his neck the company of a beautiful woman?”

“Is that what they’ll do to you?”

He licks his fingers, shrugging. “Who knows? They might prefer to rip my limbs from my body with ropes pulled by tuskians.” I shudder. “My apologies,” he says, putting his hand to his vast chest and bowing slightly. “This is not polite dinner conversation. Please, come sit and tell me why you’re really here.”

I sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “Did you mean what you said in the grand hall about Fostinians being on the side of human women?”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re here. I thought it was more to do with guilt. After all, you are the one whose arrow brought me here.” I frown, examining my hands, and he laughs, jogging his mammoth shoulder against mine and nearly knocking me off the bed. “Come now, why so serious?” he says. “Of course I don’t blame you. You were doing what you had to. In fact, I’d rather have died by the arrow of a beautiful woman than an oaf with an axe.”

I can’t help but smile slightly. “So back to my question?”

He pauses a moment, face suddenly serious. “Of course I meant it. I was disgusted when I learnt what the Skarsdonians were doing.”

“You said you’re our only hope of escape. How?”

He thinks about it for a while, pausing in his eating. “Ever since the Grand Sovran invaded Fostinia over thirty years ago,” he finally says, “he has claimed the region as his own, so I have been unable to reclaim my rightful place as King of Fostinia, but plans are afoot to change all that, and when it does, we will ensure the freedom of you human slaves.”

“How exactly? Fostinia isn’t Skarsdon, and it’s Skarsdon’s leader who is our slave master.”

“When we take back Fostinia, we will build enough support and strength to invade Skarsdon too and kill the Grand Sovran. Skarsdon will be taken, and I will rule both regions.”

I sigh in disappointment. “That could take years.”

“You underestimate us Fostinians,” he says, fire in his green eyes. “Once news of our victory invading the Globe Palace spreads throughout Fostinia, it will give my people the courage and impetus to fight the Skarsdonian defenders who have been posted throughout the region. They will rise up, and as a result, our numbers will be vast. It will be more like months than years.”

I examine his face. Is he sincere? He seems it. “Why the Globe Palace?”

His jaw tenses. “It sits on Fostinian land snatched by the Grand Sovran when he invaded. Though he built the palace as a gift for my mother, he also burnt down the Fostinian Palace I was born in. So I will claim the Globe Palace and its throne as mine. It will be a symbolic victory as much as a battle victory, sending a message loud and clear that the Fostinian royal family are back.”

“But how exactly are you going to take over the Globe Palace? You tried before and failed. What’s changed in the last six months?”

He suddenly grabs my wrist. “Wait a minute. They sent you, didn’t they? To seduce information out of me.”

“No!” I say, trying to extract my wrist.

He twists it painfully. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. I honestly want to find out. I hate the Grand Sovran as much as you do. I refuse to believe this is it for us, a lifetime of being bound to a life of domestic bloody drudgery. I have to escape it.“ He narrows his green eyes at me, his fingers pressing even harder into my skin. “You’re hurting me,” I whine. He suddenly releases me, and I jump up, backing away to the corner of the cell. “It was clearly a mistake coming here. I hope your death is as painless as it can be.”

His face changes then, and I see a hint of trepidation in his eyes. He almost looks…vulnerable. I suddenly feel bad. For all his bravado, the fact is, he is facing certain death in a few hours.

“Surely you can stay a few more minutes?” he pleads. “It won’t take long.’

“What won’t take long?”

“Fucking you.” He stands to his full height, filling the small space. He really is so tall, standing at over seven foot.

I quickly knock on the door, desperate to be let out. “You are despicable.”

“But surely it’s the least you can do,” he says, taking a large step towards me. “After all, it is you who caused my captivity and will ultimately cause my death.”

I step back, my back against the iron door as he suddenly darts towards me and grabs my arms, pressing himself against me. Something is digging into the top of my stomach, the full length of what I can only assume is his…cock. I try to squirm away, but he’s gripping me even tighter now, bending down so his lips are close to my ear. “I know you are wet,” he whispers. “It will only take a few moments, I will sink into you with ease if you are as wet as I imagine, even with a cock as big as mine.”

I smash my knee into the very thing he’s talking about, and he lets out a groan, releasing me. “You are disgusting,” I shout. “You deserve to die.”

He looks up at me with smiling eyes, still bent over double as he clutches at the cock he seems so proud of. “Honestly, human witch, did you think I was serious? I would never force myself into a woman, even if I am a savage. I just needed to see that pretty face angry again before I died.”

I glare at him, raging with anger and, God I hate to admit it, desire. Damn him! Then I turn on my heel and storm out, his laughter echoing behind me.