Dark Eros

2

Fumnaya laughed as he pushed Akua aside, trudging through the forest east of their land. The young and curious were known to explore these lands, though it was frowned upon unless one was hunting.

As prince this land was his, but it also belonged to his people. Such was the way his ancestor's had spread out ages ago. But still, he and his closest friends had snuck away and explored the lands since they were young.

It was what they did when they were in need of adventure and new discoveries and rebelliousness. They had been chasing each other, racing to the small clearing near a riverbed that they had found years ago. Fumnaya was winning, he was athletically inclined, he loved to run. The wind brushing along his skin, the freedom he felt, the solace that seemed to pass over him and often times through him.

And then it happened, he pushed aside a low hanging tree limb and froze in his tracks. There were two women before him but only one of them had his attention.

Shimmering brown skin accompanied by plump, kissable lips. A heart shaped face, wide eyes, short lashes, light brown eyes that seemed to see into his soul. Her hair was a halo of woolen black mass around her, stopping just below her shoulders. He stared, and stared until his heart beat rung in his ears. Until his palms grew sweaty with the urge to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it look, or run his hand through her mane.

And then the girl was running away from him, her small feet rushing to get away. And he couldn't stop himself, he bounded after her. It didn't take him long to catch her, in fact for every one step she took, he seemed to take two. He wrapped an arm around her, halting her. She gasped, the sound full of fear. As she should be. A girl of age alone in the east forest with a man that she did not know?

She twisted and turned in his embrace, suddenly hugged up against his chest. She slapped at his chest, her hands causing no damage at all. A swift feeling of pride welled up in his chest at her fighting spirit. Most women would have screamed or given up, surrending themselves to their capture. But this woman was not so weak, though her punches and slaps did nothing she continued her struggling.

He trailed a hand across her neck, cupping it, grabbing a fistful of her hair. She tried to get away, prying at his hands. "Let me go!" She demanded.

But as custom, she was his, he had won, his holding her in his arms, and her with no male authority to tell him he could not, said that she was his. She was his claim and he, for the first time in years, felt giddy at the thought of someone.

"You are alone here, I claim you. Do not fight." He suggested.

She ignored his words, continuing to push against his chest. "No, no, I am not yours! You can not claim me!" Her mind wandered to her grandmother and to her sister. To disappear, to never see them again? The very thought had her fighting harder.

He scowled, "Are you not of age? Or do you already have babes to tend to? Has your heart been taken?"

She froze in her struggles and her hesitation seemed to give him the answers she refused to admit.

"Then there is nothing stopping me from taking you with me, nothing stopping me from claiming you as my bed mate." He said with finality, desire bubbling in his gut at the very thought of embracing the little warrior woman in his arms.

She seemed to visibly pale, the moonlight dancing across her skin only enhanced her beauty in his eyes, brought her coloring to life in the dull of the dark.

The fear in her mahogany eyes was apparent. Her fear was warranted. Every camp knew of the stories of women who had fallen prey to captors who were not gentle or kind. But he had no intention of treating this woman, his woman, with a rough hand. He wanted to caress her skin, play with her hair, kiss her lips. Feel the warmth of her skin.

And he had every right, it was custom, every camp, every tribe knew it. "Look at me. Look into my eyes and know that I have claimed you."

She stayed stiff, her eyes glued to his chest, refusing to look up. Stubbornly staying strongwilled. "No. I refuse your claim." She whsipered though she knew she had no say. She could not refuse someone not of her tribe.

Again he found himself surprised. And he laughed, he had never found a woman so...right? Her stubbornness only made him want her more. "You can not. You know this. Now, look at me so that I may gaze upon the beauty that will share my bed."

The hand he had in her hair tightened and he tugged her head back so that she had no choice but to look upon him. And what she saw made her eyes widen in recognition.

Blue eyes...sad blue eyes. She stared, in awe. Her dream was standing before her, holding her, demanding that she bend to his will. She had been claimed and by her sad blues eyes no less. Her heart pounded against her chest, her breath caught.

She had not had a good look at him, she had been much too panicked to look at him upon his sudden arrival. The man before her had dark brown skin, a square jawline, sensual lips. Stuble adorned his face in a shadow. His eyes were a dark, misty blue, his lashes long and wispy. His build was lean, masculine, muscular. His skin soft to the touch. His vocie deep, authoritative and yet soft and gentle.

This could not be real, she mused. It had to be a trick of the mind, a ploy of the quiet night and her first embrace.

"Let me...go," she tried once more, her mouth suddenly dry.

The hand gripping her hair loosened for a moment but suddenly seemed to tightened and then he was leaning toward her, his lips pressing against hers. She was shocked, unprepared. His kiss was at first gentle, tentative. But upon his first taste of her, he wanted more. The gentleness of his kiss was quickly gone. He was kissing her with abandon now, with sheer strength and passion. She pushed at his chest, his wide shoulders. She tried to pulled her lips away but his hold was iron clad.

She whimpered in his grip, realizing that she would have to submit.

He pulled away, his sad blue eyes overcome with a need she was not familiar with and yet she knew...could feel it in the pit of her stomach.

The sound of loud booming laughter and several male voices pulled his attention away from her lips for a moment. Her fear escalated.

Her captor scowled but it was obvious that he was not actually upset. "Come, let's us go. I am eager to embrace you."

He pulled her along and in doing so she stumbled, her knees buckling. In his haste to keep her upright he released her hair. The action gave her momentum. She pushed at his chest, denying his help, knocking him down instead. She swiftly turned and ran, her feet moving with a quickness.

Fumnaya just watched her go, honestly too shocked to move. She had escaped his arms and had even knocked him down in the process. Again, his chest swelled with pride. She had slipped right through his fingers, the taste of her still lingered on his tongue. She had been sweet like peaches, her hair soft like cotton, her skin smooth to his finger tips.

A smile, a genuine smile lit his face and he chuckled. He hadn't been so amused in years. Nor had he ever wanted someone as much as he wanted that woman. But instead of running after her, he merely stood and made his way back toward his camp. He would have her, that he did not doubt.