BDSM Romance, Capture Fantasy
Date Published: June 13, 2025
Runaway Bride meets Unstoppable Force — recipe for disaster? Or love
rekindled?
For years, Prince Admiral Arles of Tor has been obsessed with Gisel Vanda, who
jilted him at the altar. When he discovers the lovely runaway is now a
mercenary space captain, he captures her, determined to get Gisel out of his
system. He soon discovers she’s even more intelligent and beautiful than he
remembered, but she is also a political liability he can’t afford.
Gisel bitterly regrets jilting Arles, and her love for him still burns bright.
Even as he tests her with acts of erotic dominance, she sees the opportunity
to redeem herself. But with a murderous enemy closing in, can love survive the
demands of royalty?
I gave the manacle on my right arm a restless tug, and it responded with a
musical rattle. I couldn’t see a damn thing. A blindfold bit into my temples,
wrapping me in sensual, intimate darkness.
The lack of vision only made me more aware of him — his scent, that faint
tang of spice and masculinity, the heat of his big body standing just to the
left of the bunk he’d chained me to, the slight rasp of his breathing. I have
always been acutely aware of Prince Arles of Tor, once my intended, now my
captor.
The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down beside me. I quivered like an
animal, imagining his nudity. The way he’d looked that night ten years before
was branded on my memory. Arles’s broad back had flexed as he’d used the light
whip, the perfect, tanned hemispheres of his bare ass working in concert with
the leap of thigh muscles and the snap of brawny arms.
The girl had squirmed and sighed every time he hit her. Even as young as I’d
been a decade ago, I’d known she loved it. The smell of sex hung in the air
like some kind of musky, exotic spice.
“That’s what he’ll do to you,” my sister had whispered as we watched from the
secret chamber. “And he’ll make you want it. Mother will be appalled.”
Our mother might have known Arles dominated other women, but it would never
occur to her that one of her daughters would feel the need to submit.
We, after all, had been born to rule.
“Never,” I’d snarled, with all the melodrama of the seventeen-year-old I’d
been. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the prince’s feral strength. “I will
not shame my blood.” I could feel myself going wet.
“You will. He’ll weave his alien magic, and you’ll bow that proud little
head.”
I feared Isa was right. Even if I hadn’t been in love with him, Arles was too
much for me. I’d end up sacrificing everything I was to his dominance and raw
male power. My mother would turn from me in disgust and revulsion. I couldn’t
bear the thought of her disappointment.
But I also knew my mother would force me to abide by the demands of the
treaty. Saying no at the altar was not an option.
Two hours later, I slipped from the palace, abandoning my world, my family,
and my life. The Capital Spaceport was only a few blocks away, and I meant to
seek passage off world. I was too well known to take a flitter taxi — any
capital cabbie knew my curfew and would refuse to pick me up, for fear of the
Royal Guard’s wrath — so I decided to walk.
A block from my goal, I was attacked by a pack of throat slitters who dragged
me into an alley. I survived only because a passing mercenary heard my screams
and charged to the rescue. He killed every one of the slitters and flew me to
his ship for treatment of some ugly injuries.
Captain Galon Teve had a merc’s hard eyes, but his heart was soft. When I told
him my story, the big, gray-haired cyborg took pity on me and hired me on as
crew.
My new mentor taught me how to fight, how to kill, and how to pleasure. Yet no
matter how I tried, I could never love Galon as he came to love me. My heart
was already captive to a boy with a Paladin’s eyes — and a man with a devil’s
smile.
Under Galon’s tutelage, I discovered a talent for tactics and strategy.
Eventually I became his second-in-command. When Galon fell in battle against
the Fafnar, I succeeded him as captain of the Valkyrie Quest.
Through it all, Arles haunted my shamed fantasies. I’d lie in my lonely bunk
with one hand stroking between my thighs, remembering the shadows rolling
across his big body in time to the snap of his whip.
Now it was no dream.
Arles touched my nipple, brushing calloused fingertips over the hard nubbin.
Just once, but I still caught my breath at the liquid heat that rushed through
me.
“Sensitive little breasts.” His voice rumbled in the intimate darkness of my
blindfold. “I wonder how you’ll taste. Shall I find out?”
Saliva flooded my mouth, and I swallowed. I didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question.” His fingers closed over my flesh in a pinch
carefully calibrated to give more pleasure than pain. Yet the potential sting
floated just beneath the delight like a dark promise. “I want an answer. Shall
I taste you?”
“You’ll do as you please. You always do.”
“True.” He twisted, released, flicked the nipple back and forth, sending warm
delight lapping along my nerves. “But a show of submission on your part might
appease me.”
“I rather doubt it.”
“But can you afford to take the chance?” Another hot pinch, this one with a
hint of sting. Perversely, I felt heat flood my belly. “My reputation is not
exaggerated.”
“I never thought it was.”
“Perhaps a silk flogger.” He brushed his hand over the sensitive flesh of my
left breast, gave me a caressing squeeze. “Right across these pretty tits. I
would enjoy watching you dance.”
“I’ve heard that of you.” I tried for a tone of mild contempt, but my voice
sounded too high, too breathless. I silently cursed myself. I could usually
act more skillfully for my enemies.
Unfortunately, I’d never seen Arles as a foe. Even now, bound and naked, I
remembered the thoughtful boy who’d first taught me strategy over endless
games of Conquest. The prince was even more skilled now, a conqueror of two
worlds who’d driven the Fafnar from Torrean space with his ruthless, brilliant
tactics. When Arles tracked me down three days ago, I’d known I was in
trouble.
I wasn’t really surprised, though. I’d known the prince would demand a
reckoning one day; my actions had done too much damage to his reputation.
Anybody who watched the news vids knew that.
I’d also known winning a fight with him wasn’t likely. Arles commanded a huge,
Starbreaker-class warship that was the pride of the Torrean fleet. Bristling
with blaze cannons and thermal torpedoes, the Mjˆlnir outgunned the
Valkyrie three to one. Naming that ship after Thor’s Hammer had been entirely
too apt.
But though the Valkyrie was small, she was fast and nimble. She proved it as
the Mjˆlnir chased us for three days through the thickest asteroid field
I could find. Arles caught us just as we prepared to escape into superlight
space. A salvo of thermal torpedoes blew Valkyrie’s quantum engines, leaving
us dead in space.
The prince demanded my surrender as the price of my crew’s lives. I didn’t
want my people to pay for my sins, so I’d agreed. Leaving the Valkyrie in the
hands of my executive officer, I flew to meet Arles in my personal launch.
When I stepped off the small craft’s ramp onto the Mjˆlnir’s squadron
deck, I found him holding a collar and a set of magnetic slave bands equipped
with chains. The golden restraints were engraved with erotic images and
studded with emeralds for maximum barbaric glitter. He’d chained and collared
me as his grinning crew watched. I could only grind my teeth in rage, trying
to ignore the heat in my cunt.
Now Arles traced one finger down my torso, dipped suggestively into my navel,
and paused at the neatly trimmed edge of my bush. I managed not to squirm. “I
have a suspicion you’re wet,” he said, his voice dark and low. “Are you? Do I
arouse you, Gisel?” He laughed. “Odin knows you’ve made me hard and hot.”
His fingers dipped between my spread thighs. Both of us groaned at the slick,
tight flesh he found.
“Ripe,” Arles murmured. “Ripe as a peachango. Ready for my cock. Is that what
you want, Gisel?”
About the Author
New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for
Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.
Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
