The payoff was this assignment: a top-secret experiment that might just, after thousands of years of war, bring peace to the entire planet. Her role here, as a paper-pushing geek with an eye for budgets and enough finesse to talk the Pentagon into spending whatever funds were necessary, wasn't particularly exciting. But the project itself was the most exciting work she'd had in years. And now, because of it, she was facing a slow, painful death.
"What do I do?" Ronda removed her hand from the mountain wall, absently watching snow fall from where her glove had once rested. "Maybe I--"
Her dark brown eyes narrowed, a frown marring her features. What the...
Her hand flew back to the mountain wall, and she quickly brushed more snow away. Ronda sucked in her breath when she realized that behind the snow sat a stone door.
A door?
Of course! Phantom III must have crashed directly atop the secret military compound! But then, why hadn't army soldiers come to her rescue? Maybe the compound sat toward the mountain's root and nobody had heard the crash?
It didn't matter. Ronda's heart was pounding with too much adrenaline to care. Where there was a door, there was bound to be a civilization--and food and warmth and medical supplies. Hope surged inside her.
She would live! Against all odds, she would survive.
The door resisted her efforts to open it. She marched back to the remains of the chopper and found a piece of metal that would work as a crowbar. Where there was a will, there was also a way.
Ronda excitedly set to work, methodically prying the stone door open from behind the boulder. Her muscles burned and her teeth gritted from the labor, but she didn't relent. A smile of victory and relief curved her lips when the stone door finally yielded. Not much, but she was pretty sure she'd jacked it open far enough to get in.
Throwing the makeshift crowbar to the ground, Ronda squeezed through the tight portal.
Chapter Two
It was dark inside the mountain. It took Ronda's eyes several moments to adjust to the atmosphere. Even then, there was only so much adjusting retinas could do in pitch-blackness.
"Hello?" she called out. Her voice echoed off the walls. "Is anybody in here?"
Silence.
"Hello? I'm Corporal Ronda Tipton of the United States army. Can anybody hear me?"
Again, silence.
Obviously she was too high up for anyone to hear her. She'd have to inch her way down the mountain. One thing was for certain--it was definitely warmer inside the mountain than outside it. She knew in her gut that signaled civilization. It had to.
Whoever had received their distress signal probably assumed that all the passengers of Phantom III had died on impact. How surprised they'd be to see her walking down the passageway that had neatly been carved inside the mountain. Now, if only she could actually find her way down it...
Ronda put her hands up in front of her and slowly walked forward. When she felt a wall, she took off her right glove, stuffed it into a pocket, and used that hand to feel her way down. She kept her left hand in front of her so as not to bump into any barriers.
For the next hour, Ronda wound farther and farther down the mountain. She stayed steady, keeping at a snail's pace, so as not to cause further injury to herself. After what felt like half of forever, she finally saw light up ahead. It was dim, but it was definitely light. Yes!
"Keep it steady, Ronda," she murmured to herself. "No tripping."
The urge to bolt toward the light was strong. She resisted it, even though this slow shuffling was driving her mad. But she'd carefully inched her way down the spiral of the mountain interior for over an hour. She could resist the temptation to run for another few minutes.
Finally--finally!--she got close enough to the dim light to walk a bit faster, and without needing to use her hands as guides. She still couldn't move too hastily, though, for the footing had become trickier. Another half hour, and Ronda was at last inside the mountain chamber that was emitting the light.
Her eyes widened. What in the world...?
In the mountain's belly was a hollowed-out cavity that contained twenty huge pits of some boiling substance. Wax? Oil? She didn't know. It wasn't the right color to be lava, so people had put the substance inside the man-made pits, which looked too crude to be army-made. They were well crafted, but lacked the technical appearance of military manufacturing.
"Kom och titta pa det har!"
The booming male voice startled Ronda. That he wasn't speaking English sent warning bumps down her spine. Military-bred instincts taking over, she jumped behind the closest boulder to hide and found a crack to watch through.
Oh my God.
A six-and-a-half-foot-tall man in his fifties made his way into the cavern with a cloaked woman who appeared to be in her eighties or nineties. The old woman dressed and looked like your average crone out of a movie--nothing too shocking there. But the man? He was dressed like...
A Viking. Yes, that's what he resembled--some ancient Nordic warrior! Long, white-blond hair plaited at the temples, two bangles with dragon heads clasped unforgivingly around both bulging biceps, no shirt, brown leather brais for pants, huge musculature.
He was terrifying looking.
Ronda watched the conversation between the giant man and the old woman with intense curiosity. Who were these people? What were they doing here? The only non-English-speaking peoples she knew of in this remote area were the Inuit Eskimos, and most of them spoke English too.
The old woman nodded. "Det ser bra ut for min del."
"Sa det ar klart da?"
"Ja."
Ja. The old woman had phonetically said yah. That was a Nordic word! Swedish? Norwegian?
This was getting stranger by the second.
"Kom. Vi gar tillbaka." The man led the old, cloaked woman from the chamber. "Jag ska hamta nagra krigare sa vi kan ta tillbaka det."
"Perfekt."
As they disappeared, Ronda had but a split second to decide to follow them or not. Though something quite bizarre was going on here, these people might also be her only way out of the mountain.
She decided to follow, but to keep a safe distance between her and them. She didn't want to alert them to her presence until she knew more about who they were, what they were doing, and why they were here. Maybe they were just two harmless people who lived in the rough terrain of the Arctic and used this mountain for boiling waxes and oils--or something. Though that didn't explain the male's weird manner of dress.
Wherever Ronda was following them to, it was becoming warmer by the second. And louder; she could hear the clang of metal striking metal. As she continued to trail the duo, ducking behind this rock and that, the sound of voices caught her ear, all speaking that foreign tongue.
Ronda rounded a bend, then ducked behind a large boulder next to a stone wall as she watched the old woman and her escort make their way to a crude iron-wrought elevator. As the caged elevator went down, large bars of metal acting as counterweights rose up.
Clearly this was no army complex. Taking a deep breath and quietly exhaling, Ronda worked up her nerve to peer over the stone wall and see what lay below it. When she did, her jaw dropped open in disbelief.
"This can't be real," she whispered. "A primitive city?"
In science fiction movies, whenever earthlings found a planet with other humanoid life-forms, the discovered civilization was primitive in some ways and advanced in other ways--exactly like the city below. The foundation of the settlement was stone, mud, and huts, yet the people were advanced enough to fashion caged elevators and what looked like weapons.
Ronda wondered if she was the first person from the outside world to ever lay eyes on this civilization. After all, the colony was in the middle of nowhere, existing below some of the most rugged and frigid terrain on earth.
Like an awe-filled kid who'd just found Santa's hiding place at the north pole, Ronda studied everything she could see. This main atrium had several levels, and they went down so many th
ousands of feet that she could only make out what lay on the upper five.
The fifth and fourth levels looked like primitive shopping malls with huts and booths that resembled stalls more than actual stores. It brought to mind a Hawaiian flea market or Covent Garden in London--except that the people dressed like they'd just walked out of a history book, and the shoppers appeared to barter for what they wanted rather than buy it outright. Apparently money wasn't used here.
Does the army know about this place? Does anyone?
The third level up was also a place to shop--but, sweet Lord, what was being sold was too incredible to believe! If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes--
"Oh my God," Ronda breathed out. "This isn't happening." The huge, Viking-dressed males on the third level up were bartering for...
Women. Naked women! And, what was worse, by the manner in which the women of various colors were being cajoled toward the stage in shackled feet, Ronda knew they were unwilling auction chattel.
Ronda's hand flew up to cover her mouth. This just couldn't be real.
She wasn't able to make out what was being said by anybody on the third level. It was too far away to hear anything, and the sounds competed against the loud clanging of metal striking metal on the second level.
A nude, redheaded woman with fair skin was dragged, kicking and screaming, to the center of the platform by two huge men. Her large breasts bobbed up and down as she tried to break free from their hold, to no avail. It was like watching a squirming fish try to elude two hungry bears. The guards held her still while twenty potential buyers boldly inspected her. They forced her mouth open to scrutinize her teeth, ran their hands over her large breasts with extended pink nipples, and--
Ronda couldn't bear to watch anymore.
Scared and shaking, she knew if she was captured by these people, she might find herself up on one of those very platforms.
"Keep it together, girlfriend," she murmured. "You've made it this far."
She'd survived at least ten ambushes in her life, the death of two parents, and a helicopter crash. She could survive this too. She just had to think of what to do.
The quiet before the storm.
The thought entered her mind from seemingly nowhere, and it took her a second to figure out why. The clanging sound of metal striking metal had abruptly stopped. She blinked.
Her gaze flew down to the now quiet second floor from her hiding place. She stilled, even as her heart began to pound against her chest. "Holy shit," Ronda muttered.
They knew she was here. Approximately fifty Viking men had ceased their blacksmith work and were staring up at her, all of them clearly alerted to her presence somehow.
This is NOT happening!
Swallowing against the lump of fear in her throat that felt the size of an apple, Ronda's wide brown eyes clashed with acutely intense blue ones. Her heart began pounding impossibly harder, beads of perspiration dotting her forehead.
The giant who'd snared her gaze made her mouth go cotton dry. His body was as formidable as his eyes. It was hard to judge from this height just how huge he was, but he had to be as tall or taller than the first man she'd seen--at least six and a half feet. And powerfully, heavily muscled.
His hair was dark brown and fell to the middle of his back. A braid at either temple had been pulled to the back of his head and knotted there to keep his hair out of his eyes. He wore only black leather brais, black boots, and a huge gold bangle clasped around each obscenely bulging biceps. No shirt to cover that massive chest or those vein-roped arms, which made him look even more frightening.
He was watching her, assessing her, sizing her up as if calculating every possible move she might make toward escape. She had fought against the deadliest of enemies during her field years, but this was the first man she'd ever gone up against whose mere stare made every hair at the nape of her neck stand on end. His ice blue eyes were as penetrating and merciless looking as the rugged, bitter cold terrain outside. And those eyes were watching her.
When she'd decided her life needed some excitement, this was not what she'd had in mind!
"Let go of me! You goddamn bastard--let go!"
Because the sound of clanging metal had ceased while all eyes were on her, Ronda heard the redheaded woman's English-spoken cry from far below. Ronda's gaze flew to the naked, shackled female whose breasts were being rubbed and kneaded by two large hands. Her heartbeat racing, Ronda then returned her gaze to the giant who stood just one level below her.
The big man's cold blue gaze glanced pointedly downward, then slowly back up to look Ronda in the eyes. A half smile twisted his lips.
Oh, no--oh, God!
Ronda's entire body began to shake. He was telling her without words what he intended to happen to her.
Hell, no!
Breaking out of her frozen shock, Ronda whipped around and bolted back toward the cavern that contained the boiling liquid.
"Ta henne!"
She heard the battle cry, clearly an order to capture her. Then loud footfalls pounding, and the iron-caged elevator ascending toward the uppermost level.
What do I do now? Where do I go!
There was nothing outside to run to but a ten-thousand-foot drop off an icy cliff.
"Help me, God," Ronda panted, running so fast it made her dizzy. "Please."
As she reached the cavern filled with the pits of boiling fluid, her wild gaze darted about the rocky chamber for a hiding place. She espied a small, cramped space between two boulders and quickly squeezed her body in. Forcibly steadying her breathing, she remained as still as a statue. All she could do now was wait.
And hope they didn't find her.
Chapter Three
Stay calm. Do not move. Do not breathe if you can help it. Stay calm...
Ronda repeated the mental mantra over and over, half-wondering if she was dreaming all this from a hospital bed. The sound of booming male voices jarred her back to reality.
The Viking men had entered the chamber.
Please don't let them find me. God--please!
They talked amongst themselves, but she had no idea what they were saying. As the chamber became brighter, she guessed the men had lit some torches and were preparing to climb the spiral of the mountain to the top. She waited with infinite patience until the voices became mere echoes in the distance, then slowly, quietly, unwedged herself from between the rocks.
Prepared for a surprise attack, she took her time, careful not to get taken unaware. But no one was in the chamber.
Her best chance of escape was to go down rather than up--the last thing the enemy would expect her to do.
The one thing she least wanted to do.
Carefully tiptoeing toward the cavern entrance that would lead to the elevator, Ronda kept her eyes and ears on full alert. Ready to proceed with operation Get Me the Fuck Outta Here, she took off running, rounded a corner--and slammed smack-dab into the middle of a massive, muscular chest. She fell to the ground, landing on her backside.
Ronda gasped and looked up, the pain in her wounded head so blinding it made her cry out.
It was him--the giant. And, oh, boy, was he even bigger and deadlier looking up close. His heavily muscled body was tensed for battle. His face was a mask of fury, cold blue eyes narrowed into merciless slits.
Survival instincts taking over, Ronda put her weight on her left knee in a lightning-fast movement and karate-kicked her enemy in the groin with her right leg.
He bellowed in pain and anger as he fell to his knees. Her heart pounding so fast it felt as though it might beat out of her chest, Ronda darted past him. He howled as she ran by, sending goose bumps zinging down her spine.
Run faster! Faster! Faster! Faster!
Adrenaline rushed through her, and she dashed toward the elevator. The pain in her head was horrific, but getting caught by these sadists would be far worse.
Almost there!
As Ronda reached out to open the cage doors, two rough, calloused hands
grabbed her by the back of the shoulders.
No!
She elbowed him in the gut. He grunted and released her. She dropped to the floor to deliver another kick to the groin, but he took her by surprise and went down to the floor with her. They wrestled for a moment, Ronda fighting like a wildcat.
"Let go of me!" she raged, clawing and hitting at him.
The giant got on top of her and pinned her hands to the ground over her head. He used his massive weight to subdue her, situating himself intimately between her thighs. She could feel the bulge of his erection pressing against her despite the black leather brais and army-green snowsuit that lay between them.
"Who are you?" the giant hissed in heavily accented English, his voice deep and angry. Those icy blue eyes sparked with fire and his nostrils flared, making his features appear impossibly more menacing. "Tell me!" he ground out, releasing her hands to seize two fistfuls of her golden hair by the roots.
Pain seared Ronda's head wound and she cried out. Dizziness and nausea assailed her. The fear of death loomed hauntingly close.
"P-please," she gasped. "Please d-don't hurt me anymore."
Nikolas's jaw tensed as he stared down into the beautiful but cunning face of his quarry. He thought she might be feigning injury to surprise him with another attack, but then he saw the wound. He immediately released her hair and pinned her hands above her head once again.
"Who are you?" he repeated, slower this time in case she couldn't understand his English. "How did you find this colony?" His teeth all but gnashed together. "Who sent you here?"
"My n-name is R-Ronda Tipton," she gasped out. "I'm a corporal with the United States army."
Nikolas's stomach clenched. The Outsiders' warriors knew of this place? Damn Toki!
"Why were you sent here?" he demanded harshly. "Tell me!"
She blinked. "Sent here?" she whispered, her voice weak and pained.
"Little girl," he murmured, his temper barely restrained, " 'Tis smart to give me the answers I seek." His hands gripped hers tighter. He would get the old herbalist to mend her injury once she told him what he needed to know.
"Please," she said softly, her face scrunched up into a mask of pain, "I don't know what you are talking ab-bout. We were en route to a secret military base just north of the Arctic circle. The helicopter c-crashed into the mountain. I'm the only survivor."