It was dark. He was groggy. His body was heavy and exhausted. Something sweet, like the scent of lavender and pumpkin pie, wafted to Ryker's nose. He couldn't help but inhale deeply, taking in more of the arousing aroma. It almost soothed the throbbing in his head. He tried to lift his hand to massage the pulsating ache, but a strong bond stopped his wrists. He tried to open his weighty lids. The light stung his eyes. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. Finally he saw her, a woman dressed as if she were going to a masquerade ball. The little black feathers didn't hide the bright green eyes peering back at him through the mask. Her hair was dark with auburn highlights. It was unruly, long, and tousled, but in a most alluring way. He scanned her tall, slender body that was covered only by a thin, black, silky dress. It was like a lingerie teaser on the cover of Playboy, something to lure you to buy the magazine so you could see the nude centerfolds. Hmm. Green eyes and dark hair? Well, this certainly is not little Miss Mindy, he thought, imagining that the sexy little blue–eyed blonde was probably sitting at the bar still waiting for him, thinking she'd been stood up.

He tried to sit up, but all of his extremities were pinned down. When he realized he couldn't move, he looked to his feet, then quickly to his hands. They were bound by leather straps, and a sheet was draped over the lower half of his body. He wiggled, and damn it, his bare ass slid against the mattress. What the hell was happening? He was tied to a bed, naked, and he had no idea how he got there.

The last thing he remembered was going back to his hotel room for a shower. He was jetlagged from the plane trip and exhausted from the fight. He remembered sitting down on the chair just for a second to take a rest and... Wait! Had she drugged him? Is that where his headache was coming from? The fogginess? The water bottle. Ryker recalled only one in the fridge, so that he'd had to take that one. It must have been meant for him. Son of a fucking bitch!

"Don't be afraid." The woman's voice was low and provocative, but reassuring.

Ryker scowled at her accusation. "Afraid? I'm not afraid," he snapped. Pissed, he thought, but not afraid.

"It's a natural reaction," she pointedly stated. "You're vulnerable right now, and vulnerability comes from being unable to protect yourself." She took a few steps toward him. "But do you know what you're trying to protect yourself from?" She stopped beside the bed and tapped her finger against the leather restraint on his wrist. "You're afraid because you fear what we all fear... pain. But I'm not going to hurt you."

Ryker suspiciously examined her, trying to figure out who the hell she was. He chuckled. "You've got me confused with the general population. It takes a lot more than some chick tying me up to scare me, and as for pain..."Ryker sneered at her, wishing he had some idea who his captor was. "Pain is nothing more than a challenge. I find it easy to defeat."

"Hmm." She thoughtfully studied him. "After seeing you fight, I'm almost inclined to believe you."

"You were at the fight?" He asked the question nonchalantly, not wanting to give away his confusion. He tried to recall if he'd seen her there, but he decided that she wasn't exactly the forgettable type. She was definitely not a woman he'd pass by without a second glance, especially since he was a sucker for long legs and auburn hair. The cat–green eyes were enticing too.

"Yes. That's why I tied you up. You're very strong."

"Listen, sweetheart—"

She raised a finger as if to hush him, and Ryker—strangely enough—found himself hushed, wanting to hear what she had to say. "I want to touch you," she said.

His cock disobediently thumped.

She dropped her finger and crossed her arms over her breasts. "With your permission, of course. I have no intentions of raping you, and—"

Really? Did she just say that? Ryker snorted at the thought. "Raping me? You fucking drugged me and tied me up!" He shook his wrists. "Doll, if you're worried about violating my body without my damn permission, I think you're already guilty." He was no longer enticed by the idea of her touching him. His libido was silenced by the extreme anger coursing through his body.

"Yes. As I said you are very strong."

"Look, pumpkin..." Pumpkin? Did I really just call her that? Fuck! It was all he could smell. Ryker lifted his chest from the bed, getting as close to her as his restraints would possibly allow. "If you wanted to get laid, all you needed to do was ask," he seethed, speaking for his cock, for at that moment, anger was filling the head connected to his neck. And he wasn't a fan of being shackled to a hotel bed, no matter how hot she was. She didn't even flinch or back away from his aggression, and oddly enough, both of his heads were pleased about that. Ryker preferred a woman with a little gumption, and this one clearly had more than her fair share.

"I'm not entirely sure I want to have sex with you, and as I was trying to explain to you, that is why I needed to tie you up."

When the little feline admitted so matter–of–factly that she wasn't sure she wanted to get laid, both of his heads agreed that it came as a bit of a disappointment. Ryker settled back on the bed, his body still fatigued from the fight and whatever drug she'd spiked his water with. He inspected her. Was she trying to tell him she tied him up for her own safety? He was sure that she didn't really know him, because if she did, she would have known that there was no need for that, his discipline was indestructible. He had needs and urges just like everybody else, but even he'd never take a woman without her consent—not to say that once consent was established, the woman wouldn't find herself in a bad way, crying and writhing beneath his relentless body. "If you don't want to fuck, then what the hell do you want? "

She sighed. "As I said, I want to touch you."

Ryker was leery, not sure how to respond. What man wouldn't want this chick to touch him? Already, his rod bellowed to let her do it, but his loss of power was berating him, demanding that he regain control over the situation. He wasn't at all comfortable in the submissive position, something he'd never experienced before nor wanted to, and lying there like a shark without its teeth, he knew why. He needed to regain control while maintaining his strict discipline. That was what he prided himself on. After all, he had to. His blood was contaminated.

"Tell you what..." he said, nodding toward her dress. Cuffed or not, it was time for Ryker to grab a hold of the reigns. "Why don't you take that dress off, and we'll see how my body reacts to you," he said, drawing his gaze back up to her jade eyes, "and then I'll let you know if you may touch me."

She tilted her head considerately and turned to the door, perhaps thinking of running. Ryker hoped she wouldn't, because he didn't need to be left in that awkwardly helpless position, still tied to the hotel room bed. Her head slowly twisted back. She moved her hands to the bottom of the thin material and lifted.

Ryker held his breath. Beneath that teasing little dress, she wore a black lace push–up bra. A sneak peek of the start of her blushing nipples filled his eyes, but they were quickly drawn down to her flat stomach, where there was a small tattoo with some type of Chinese symbol arced above her belly button. He averted to her panties, which were also skimpy and black. Thump, thump. His cock responded fiercely beneath the sheet, demanding that Ryker allow her to touch him.

He glimpsed down at the lift in the sheet between his legs, and she followed his eyes. She lifted her chin, and a noticeable sly smile turned up her sweet, plump lips. "It appears your body is reacting appropriately."

Ryker groaned. There's nothing appropriate about getting turned on by a bitch who drugged me and kidnapped me.