The Warlord Read online

“By bane of existence, do you mean fated mate?” He had his complaints, she had hers. “Or does the Black Widower refuse to acknowledge the woman he can’t live without?” Lifting her top, revealing an extra glittery patch of skin, she said, “Of course, I might deny it, too, if the situation were reversed. I’m yours...but you aren’t mine.”

  Literal sparks flared in his irises, blazing bright, extinguished only seconds later. “I can live without you,” he told her, his fury barely banked. “I can also guess how you left the palace. The key dangling from your neck. Which I will be taking from you, one way or another.”

  * * *

  Roc peered at the most defiant, exciting, challenging female to ever walk any planet and wanted only to get inside her. Once again, she made him throb. Even as she taunted him for being a black widower. Even as she eviscerated him with truth.

  I’m yours, but you aren’t mine.

  “Take the key,” she said with an airy tone. “I don’t care.”

  He studied her. When she’d first arrived, she’d been paler than usual, her eye sockets darker than expected. Roc admitted it: he’d feared. Then his heat raised a rosy flush on her skin, and she appeared normal. Which meant she wasn’t a phantom. She couldn’t be. He’d never harden for a phantom.

  “I’ll take more than the key. You’ll give me answers.” He flashed to her, latched on to her arms, then flashed again, ending his journey with his bride pressed against the wall. He inserted a knee between her legs, ensuring she straddled him, the metal plate resting upon his thigh. He covered her vulnerable throat with his fingers. With his other hand, he clasped her hip bone, his grip almost...tender. “Where did you go? Tell me!” Who did she meet?

  When she said nothing, his control took a substantial hit. He raised his knee, lifting her feet off the floor, forcing her weight to balance on the needy space between her thighs, relying on his body for an anchor.

  She dug her claws into the wall and grinned up at him, far from cowed. “Going to try to pleasure the information out of me? Well, go ahead. I’ll enjoy every second, and you’ll end up frustrated, learning only what I want you to know.”

  Fury...passion, something summoned the stardust. Intense heat flared in his palms. Taliyah sucked in a breath. More proof she wasn’t a phantom. The fiends had no need to breathe. But Erebus did. If the god had indeed made more like himself.

  “No regard for your friends in the duplicate realm?” he asked.

  She bit out, “Are you going to destroy it?”

  He’d boasted he would do so, and he never reversed a decision. But as he pictured her lovely, defiant features contorted with grief and... He couldn’t do it.

  “The harpies are safe,” he grated. “For now.”

  The response clearly surprised her. She frowned as she plucked her nails free and settled her hands on his shoulders, melting against him. “Truly? Why? I didn’t peg you as the three strikes type.”

  The way her body fit his...did things to him. “With the right incentive, I can be merciful. Tell me where you went, Taliyah.”

  “I... No.” She shook her head, stubborn to her very core.

  His heart shuddered in his chest. Had black lines sped through her eye sockets as she’d moved?

  Erebus toys with your thoughts, and you’re letting him.

  Roc tightened his grip, just a little, just long enough to feel her pulse leap. “Where did you go, harpy?”

  “Mmm.” A temptress to the end, she lifted her arms above her head and thrust up her breasts. “Haven’t we played this game before? Remind me, darling. Didn’t I win?”

  This. This was what happened when you showed mercy to a foe even once. But no matter. He could make up for his previous mistake. Though he’d bent once, refusing to break her wrist when she’d disobeyed his command to drop the dagger, he would see this challenge through to the bitter end.

  He would have her answer. And her thanks.

  The decision solidified. He’d wondered what to do about his gravita. Now, with her luscious body pressed against his, he had no problem discerning the proper path. Whether he liked it or not, Taliyah was special to him. His body reacted to hers. Why not enjoy her while he could?

  The callous thought jarred him. Enjoy the woman fate selected for him, receiving pleasure from her, before he struck her dead? You are a prize among prizes, Roc.

  He hated himself...but he wouldn’t change his path.

  “Uh-oh,” she purred. “Someone looks like he’s just made a very important decision.”

  An observant woman. Smug. Challenging.

  Exhilarating.

  “You will talk, harpy,” he told her with a voice like silk on barbed wire. “That I swear to you.”

  One second Taliyah straddled Roc’s thigh, her weight braced against a wall; the next he flashed her to the bed. He knew he seemed to flicker above her as he moved between this realm and the duplicate of the duplicate, where he’d stored her new chains. As he collected what he needed, he moved at a speed no one but another Astra could track. By the time he finished, he had her locked tight, her wrists shackled above her head and her ankles secured miles apart.

  A potent mix of fury and lust kept him on edge. “Anything to say now, harpy?”

  Taliyah shocked him. She got comfortable, all smug assurance and wicked fantasy. “You had these chains crafted for me, the bride you can’t resist, because you wanted to end up this way. Did you seize the first excuse to use them? Am I getting to you, Astra?”

  Yes!

  “If this is your version of torture,” she said, feminine power impelling her to a new level of boldness, “sign me up for a morning, afternoon and evening session every day for the rest of the month. I’m sure I’ll tell you something by then.”

  Want her. “I’m going to touch you, harpy. I’m going to touch you everywhere.”

  Her eyelids sank low, as if too heavy to hold up. “Is that a warning or a promise?”

  Seeing her like this, a sultry seductress in chains, his stardust glittering on her pale skin, provoked a war in Roc. Continue, or stop before he fell down an endless abyss from which he might not recover?

  How could he stop?

  “The battle ends when you tell me what I want to know.” Petting her inner thighs, his fingers inching closer and closer to the belt. Tormenting her. “You’re going to enjoy this...at first.”

  Roc grazed his knuckles against the center of Taliyah’s plate.

  * * *

  Bull’s-eye. Taliyah barely halted a cry of pleasure. “Do that again,” she rasped. “I almost told you all my secrets, honest.”

  He slitted his eyes, and oh, he looked magnificent. Primal. Fierce. Fevered. A warlord without equal, ready to die for his victory. The special scent wafted from him. The one from before. As she breathed it in, heat escalated. Perspiration dotted her skin.

  When he grazed the metal plate a second time, she rolled her hips without thought, seeking more, her sex aching.

  The intensity of those aches caught her off guard. She forced herself to still.

  “Not so smug now, hmm?” He dragged a claw down her clothes, never scratching her flesh. Leather separated, sides popping free. “The mind shuts down and the body...needs.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” Did she sound drugged? So quickly?

  He circled a finger around her pierced nipple. “Are you sure?”

  The heat! “Very,” she breathed. “No doubts.” Other than a few hundred.

  A predatory smile gave him a sinister air. “I must admit, I like the sight of you, naked and bound.” He tugged the uniform out from under her quickly, but examined her leisurely. The more he looked, the more his pulsating pupils overtook his irises. A midnight sky lit by stars and charged by storms.

  “I like the sight of you liking me naked and bound.” A jest too huskily stated, too genuine. His admirat
ion was doing terrible and wonderful things to her resolve.

  A chuckle rose from him. “Your pleas for mercy will be the sweetest music.” He dipped his head and flicked his tongue over her piercing.

  A hard suckle left her gasping. New heat flooded her. Taliyah reached for him, wanting her fingers in his hair and her claws in his scalp. The chains caught, holding her in place, and she groaned.

  “Do you want me to keep my secrets, warlord? If you crave answers, you’ll have to try harder.”

  He growled against her piercing, the most delicious vibrations driving her mad. Lucky, lucky piercing indeed.

  When he turned his attention to her other nipple, she knew she was in trouble. He didn’t lick or suck it. No, he let his lips linger above it. Seconds stretched into an eternity, leaving her writhing with need.

  She panted. Bit her tongue. Shifted and squirmed. Do it, Roc! Just do it!

  “Do you see, harpy?” His warm breath caressed her sensitive skin, igniting wild tingles. “Deny me what I want, and one part of you will always ache.”

  Sensual beast. “Maybe I ache, but you do, too. Your measuring stick is about to burst.”

  “You mean my measuring log.”

  Oh, no he didn’t. Roc didn’t just tease her with a bigger euphemism, adding fuel to the flames of her desire. Humor was sexy.

  He lifted to his knees and carefully drew his shirt over his head, muscled alevala on sudden display. With the same languorous patience, he unfastened and opened his leathers, his erection bobbing free. A bead of moisture already wetted the tip.

  The moment she spied it, she gave another spontaneous roll of her hips. Mine.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” he told her as calmly as if they were having tea. He drew the small silver key from his neck, all that controlled grace staggering to her. “I will do whatever I want to you, without taking your virginity. I’ll come as many times as I wish, and you won’t stop coming until you tell me where you traveled.”

  “Promise?” She knew he thought the key around her neck led to the other realm. In his mind, he had only to take the key and use it to get his answer. But he didn’t. He wanted to do this.

  What would he do when he discovered the second key? The hourglass tattoo.

  “Tsk, tsk. You’re only making this worse for yourself, harpy.” With a deft flick of his wrist, he separated metal from metal. Another flick, and the belt hit the floor.

  “Are you sure?” Their favorite question to each other. Cool air kissed her core. “So far you’ve been all talk.”

  “Apparently you’ve liked what I’ve had to say.” His tone thickened. He never took his greedy gaze from her as he wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. “You’re already soaked.”

  Leaning forward, he fixed that hand near her temple and wrapped an arm under her knee, forcing her legs to part further. He seemed to simmer with purpose and anticipation. Then he rotated his hips, rubbing his erection against her core, and thought fled. They were male to female, nothing between them.

  A choking sound lodged in her throat. Pressure felt incredible. He felt incredible. His rigid length seared her and she gasped.

  “Try to last, harpy. I plan to drench myself in your honey before I accept your surrender.”

  His unfounded confidence deserved a stinging retort. Yes, yes. Definitely unfounded. Except, he stirred his hips in a clockwise motion that very nearly disseminated her control.

  Doubts surfaced, one after the other. Emerging the winner of this round might be a scooch more difficult than she’d assumed, but win she would. Whatever proved necessary.

  17

  Roc drank in the winter queen beneath him. A pale incarnation of every dream he’d never known he had, naked but for her jewelry, bathed in firelight and scented with frostberries and stardust. A female with a bounty of curves, his for the taking. A seductress who wielded more power over him than any other bride ever had. An assassin who refused to bend because she didn’t yet understand the depths of his determination.

  Before the night ended, she would.

  He’d left a new print of stardust on her vulnerable throat, the sight more satisfying than the hardest-won victory. For the next twenty-nine days, Taliyah belonged to him.

  He returned to his knees, contact with her minimal. A mewl of protest split the soft, red lips he intended to conquer, the sound like kerosene to his internal flame. He burned for this woman. Even now, a yearning to make her bow to his will warred with a need to give her whatever she desired. But he hadn’t lied. Stopping would occur only after she’d given him what he wanted. Answers...her pleas...

  That icy gaze tracked his every move as he fisted his shaft and stroked up, down. Up, down. “Do you see something you like, harpy?” Would she admit it?

  Her inhalations shallowed. “I’d tell you if I did or didn’t, but so far I’m not feeling real chatty.” Brave talk delivered with a trembling voice.

  Confidence in his success soared. She was flesh and blood and desire. A woman with desires could be... How had she phrased it? Handled.

  “That’s all right,” he said. “I’ve thought of a better use for your mouth.” He slanted his mouth over hers and dipped his tongue, seeking.

  She welcomed him inside, their tongues thrusting together. Two matches, one strike. Unstoppable wildfire spread.

  He kissed and kissed and kissed her, withholding none of his raging passion. She kissed him back with equal fervor. The sounds they made created a beautiful, anguished melody. Rasping breaths, groans and moans, grunts and cries. He felt like a predator who’d finally stumbled upon a meal after a too-long drought. Her taste maddened him. Ripened frostberries, more intoxicating than the finest wine.

  Her nipples abraded his chest, new flames sparking. When he could take no more, he wrenched from her mouth and returned to his knees.

  “Now to prepare the banquet table.” He gathered pillows, one after the other, then propped the feathery mounds beneath her lower back, lifting her sex.

  Admiring his handiwork, he ran his thumb up her slit. Pink. Wet. Glistening. Temptation made flesh. She swelled with need for him, and his mouth watered. He used the pad of his thumb to torment her, massaging her little bundle of nerves.

  A whispery moan parted her lips, panting breaths fast on its heels.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me before I begin, Taya?” He draped his big body over the mattress, rested his chin on her pubic bone and met her glazed gaze.

  “Did you say before you begin?” Had she just gulped?

  “I did.” Roc sank a finger into her wet heat, wrenching a groan from them both as her inner walls squeezed him. His heart tripped as he slipped in to the second knuckle. “So hard on the outside. So soft on the inside.” So slick and inviting.

  With his next inward plunge, she rocked with him. Divine. He added a second finger, driving both as deep as he could get them without stealing her virginity. Preparing her?

  No, no. He wouldn’t go too far. Nothing mattered more than the blessing and the weapon. But the sight before him...the gripping heat... Glorious. Only want more.

  Taliyah’s honed and toned body was angled for his pleasure, her arms stretched and spread above her. White hair lay in tangles on the pillows. She remained partly suspended in the air, with her legs remaining spread as far as they could go. Her breasts bounced every time one of them moved.

  Made for me.

  Again, he used his thumb to torment her bundle of nerves. She quickly soaked his hand. “Yesss, Taya.” He circled, circled, circled, applying more and more pressure. “You love this.”

  A choked sound escaped her. “I do. I do love it,” she admitted. Then she added, “Almost...almost ready to spill my secrets. Promise! Whatever you do, don’t stop this torture.”

  Viper. “You love the way my heat overtakes you. How I warm you inside and out.�
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  “I do, I do, I do,” she repeated. “Mmm. It’s good, Roc. It’s so good.” As he worked his fingers deeper, harder, she cried, “Yes, yes! Don’t you dare stop. You promised.” She planted her heels and lifted her lower body off the pillows, attempting to force him deeper.

  She needs more of me. “What would you do to get another finger inside you?” He plunged and circled her clitoris. Plunged. Circled. Stardust glittered, shimmering in the firelight. “Do you need to be filled?”

  She gasped. She groaned. “Yes. Filled. Another finger.” She watched him, as if she couldn’t not watch him, her teeth bared. So fierce. So wanton. So perfect. “Give it to me.”

  “Will anyone’s fingers do?” The question left him without thought, and he didn’t have to ponder why. He hadn’t forgotten her boasts about Hades. Still, he worked those two fingers in and out. In, out. In...he used them like scissors, reminding her of the prize—more. “Or do you need mine, and only mine?”

  “I need nothing!”

  Possessive instincts surged, torching layers of his control. “You need me, and I’ll prove it.” Chest rumbling, he fed her a third finger, then pressed the pad of his thumb against her clitoris.

  Incoherent words left her as she bowed up and threw back her head, those drenched inner walls clenching as the orgasm ripped through. Her breasts bobbed; those pink-as-coral nipples puckered, begging for his mouth. The onyx piercing looked wicked against her pale skin.

  Sweat beaded his brow, and strain caught him in a vise grip. He didn’t touch her as she came down from the high. He stroked himself slowly, waiting. An act that required every ounce of his remaining control.

  Finally, she sagged over the mattress and pillows and offered him a wicked smile. “I almost hate to break it to you, baby, but I’m not talking. You’re going to have to try again.”

  How many males had she slain with such a smile?

  “If you need help keeping up,” she added, “just imagine me clad in more stardust and deeper satisfaction.”

  Curse her! Now he could do nothing but imagine. “Go ahead. Keep teasing. See what it gets you.”