The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  “You mean another orgasm? Taste what you’ve done to me, warlord.” A command disguised by a throaty entreaty.

  He shouldn’t obey. He should deliver her second climax another way. Following the advice of your prisoner never ended well. But not taste her? Impossible. “Think I’ll work my way down first.”

  She trembled as he settled in for another kiss. With his big body resting between her legs, his shaft had a direct line to her sex. The bliss of it. Of her. He rocked his way to heaven, to hell, making her come a second time. But he didn’t stop kissing her, their tongues dueling. He continued to rock, thrusting against her, driving her pleasure ever higher—overseeing his own torment.

  “Yes!” she cried. “Work your way down, Roc. Give me more.”

  “You’ll hunger for me every time you desire a male.” He would make sure of it. He must. He wouldn’t be the only one to suffer.

  A warlord hyperfocused on his goal, he ran her earlobe between his teeth and tongued the tendon running between her neck and shoulder. He laved, kneaded and sucked on her breasts, her nipples and her navel. Anywhere he put his trembling hands, he left a trail of stardust behind. His claim.

  Her breaths grew more labored. Her frostberry scent strengthened, fusing with the stardust, becoming their scent.

  “Look at you,” he said, awed. He stared down at her flushed, writhing form. “In the throes for your male.”

  Your male. The words reverberated in his head, reminding him of her earlier taunt. She was his gravita, but he wasn’t her consort.

  The scales couldn’t be balanced until she viewed him as her man.

  And then? What purpose would balanced scales truly serve, if he killed her as planned?

  Maybe...maybe there was another way?

  18

  Taliyah peered up at the warrior who’d played her body to a fever pitch—twice! Thrice? She’d lost count. He looked on edge. Angry and frustrated and seething with lust. Teasing him had thrilled her, but this intensity thrilled her more.

  Roc was done playing.

  With a snarl, he dragged a stiff tongue along the center of her sex. He massaged her clit with the tip. She... This...

  What is he doing to me?

  She undulated beneath his heady assault, wild for him. Despite the other climaxes, she ached beyond reason as he drove her need higher. One sensation blended into another, her body a live wire, her cells aflame.

  It wasn’t fair! Roc had pinned her wings, caging her harpy-strength, making her feel as weak as a mortal. Horrifyingly vulnerable again. He’d ratcheted up her sexual hunger and toyed with her emotions. Twice, he’d called her Taya. An endearment. A personal endearment. One she adored.

  How was she supposed to feel about that? How was she supposed to react? Part of her wanted to push him away. Part of her wanted only to tug him closer. All of her just...wanted.

  If other Generals could say no...

  I can. “Unfasten the chains, Roc. Let me touch you.” To feel his strength beneath her palms, to torment his body as he’d tormented hers, she would...she... Ah! His merciless tongue-lashing persisted, razing more and more of her hard-won control.

  Oh. Oh! Too good. He flicked, rubbed and lapped, firm and unyielding. Perfect. Too much! But she only wanted more. If she could just make him come, the game would end and calm would return, and, and, and... Thoughts muddled, another climax barreling through her hard and fast. World-rocking. But Roc still didn’t stop.

  He was a man of his word and kept going. And going and going. She soared and she crashed, soared and crashed, again and again and again, but she never begged, and she never told him what he’d wanted to know...whatever he’d wanted to know. Somewhere between the fingering and the feasting, she’d forgotten his demands.

  “Roc... Roc,” she chanted, unable to say anything else. She existed in a daze of pleasure, fire and desperate need, swinging from one extreme to the other.

  No man had ever focused so fully on her body.

  Licking and fingering her in conjunction, he drove her to another climax so powerful, she nearly screamed the palace down.

  “Tell me how much you want me,” he demanded when she quieted.

  “Only want...more orgasms,” she slurred. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t...

  “Tell me something.” He wrenched upright, glaring and panting, the brutality of his nature undeniable. Harsh lines etched each of his features. Veins bulged, and muscles flexed. His broad chest appeared packed with bricks, and his tattoos were...not moving, she realized.

  That seemed like an important development, something she should consider. Later. He required some kind of information? “Hot off the press. I’m going to touch you, too, Roc.” It was a matter of necessity. “Free me so I can.” She tugged at the chains. “Free me now.”

  “Yes. Can’t deny you. Will free you. You’ll give me what I want.” He snarled the words, and she wasn’t sure if he’d threatened her or warned her. He might not know. He was a man on the verge of losing control. A warrior gripped by excruciating pain and primal aggression.

  No matter how many times she’d reached her peak, he’d denied himself an orgasm. “I’ll give you what you need.” What they both needed.

  In a frenzy, he yanked the metal binding from her wrists. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on as tightly as her shaky limbs allowed. With another yank, he freed her ankles.

  Taliyah slung a leg over his lap and rose above him, straddling his thighs. A mere heartbeat separated her core from his huge erection, and they both froze, not daring to breathe.

  “Do it,” he said, his voice hoarse from exertion. “Make me come.”

  “Yes.” She raked her nails over his chest and kneaded muscles as hard as stone, learning how he liked being handled. The answer delighted her. Roughly. She rolled her hips, the action unstoppable.

  The tendons in his neck distended. “Yes, Taya! Just like that.”

  The sight of him... Frothing passion barely banked. Like her, he had no modesty. He unabashedly enjoyed her and their actions.

  With the next arch, he trapped her nape in a tight grip, locks of her hair threaded through his fingers. “Stop.”

  She obeyed. Their eyes met, hers caught in a gossamer web somehow stronger than the weapon she wielded.

  “You need more,” she rasped. Instinct demanded she move once more, but he wouldn’t let her. “I’m going to give it to you so good.”

  Sweat dotted his face. “You think because you’ve told me nothing and you’re free of chains that you’re winning against me, don’t you, little harpy?” A husky chuckle summoned fresh goose bumps to her limbs. “Think again. Even when we part this night, I’ll be with you. You’ll carry me in your thoughts, and you’ll ache for me, singed by my stardust. When I said I’d never stop touching you, I meant it.”

  “Perhaps,” she admitted, a bit unsteady. “But you’ll feel me, too.” His mark was external; as his gravita, she’d branded him internally.

  He kissed her then, thrusting his tongue against hers and stopping any other words. Moaning into his mouth, she ground on him harder, faster. Her wings fluttered, empowering her, ensuring every point of contact elicited maximum pressure. Her nipples rubbed him, the friction turning the already-swollen, sensitive buds into buttons. For climax, press here.

  In seconds, Taliyah erupted into another earth-shattering climax, coming apart, burning, soaring, only to crash again, completely enveloped by the scent of his stardust and the light glowing from his pores, suddenly so hungry she thought she might die without a sip of his soul.

  He made indelible noises in his throat as he clasped her backside in a punishing grip, forcing her to remain stationary. The hand in her hair pulled, tipping her head, exposing her throat to him. Her pulse leaped, cheering him on. How her heart raced!

  Head trapped, she slanted her gaze to him, their ey
es meeting once again.

  “Flesh and blood,” he said, his tone guttural, almost unrecognizable.

  Shivers rushed through her as his eyes hooded, his lashes nearly fused together as she gave an experimental rock of her hips. When he arched his own to meet her, she gasped. He groaned—and unleashed.

  Possessed by need, he jackhammered her, and Taliyah—just—exploded. Unstoppable ecstasy invaded every nook and cranny.

  He thrust with more force. “So close...”

  As she cried his name, she dragged her claws along his scalp. He loosened his hold and locked his fiery gaze on her, the strain he projected unfathomable.

  “Give me my prize, warlord. Come for me.”

  He obeyed. With a roar that seemed to spring from the depths of his soul, he came on her belly, jet after scorching jet lashing her.

  * * *

  An eternity passed in silence as Roc fought for calm. What had just happened—

  He couldn’t think about that yet.

  The moment his riotous heart calmed, he adjusted Taliyah on the mattress and stood. He kept his gaze from her, not sure he wanted to see her expression. Smug, as he’d pretended to be? Vulnerable, as he struggled so hard not to be?

  “We need to clean up,” he said, the words flat. He strode into the bathroom. Though he yearned to glance at her, he resisted. Half of him expected the harpy to follow; all of him hoped she didn’t.

  At the sink, he washed his face with icy water. The droplets trickled down. He caught a brief glimpse of his reflection and glanced away. He appeared...crazed.

  No footsteps sounded to indicate Taliyah fled, yet he sensed her loss, the fever in his veins cooling. Possessive instincts demanded he fetch her now. Self-preservation suggested he stay put. They needed to talk, yes. Their marriage required new rules, obviously. But he should probably calm before they spoke.

  Roc showered, the water doing little to ease his mind. Alone, he let his thoughts return to what had happened in that bed. How Taliyah had done nothing he’d demanded. How he’d wanted her anyway. How he’d drenched her in stardust, as she’d drenched his shaft with arousal.

  As he’d marked her, sometimes purposely, sometimes unaware, he’d made a shocking discovery. He’d marked himself, too, stardust burning through his resistance.

  A dangerous game to continue to play.

  But play he would. For twenty-eight days.

  He fisted his hands. No matter how much he wanted, needed, wished he could spare her, he couldn’t. Forget the blessing and how it applied to him. A good Commander didn’t curse his men.

  Does a good Commander kill his wife?

  Roc barely stopped himself from punching and shattering the mirror.

  He stomped into his closet to dress in—what? Would he walk with the soldiers this night, hunting phantoms that would provide more misinformation about Taliyah? At least he didn’t have to worry she’d visit the other realm. He’d taken her—No, he hadn’t. He’d meant to take her key.

  A curse burst from him, and he jerked on a pair of leathers. Shirtless, feet bare, he flashed throughout the rooms until he found her. She exited a bathroom, and it was clear she’d showered, too. Wet hair framed her delicate face. And she was naked. The key dangled between her breasts, taunting him. Lucky key.

  “Where did you go before?” he demanded.

  She shrugged. “The Realm of the Forgotten. I stashed Neeka there, but she’s gone now.”

  He—What? She’d offered the information freely? His shoulders rolled in. Would he ever understand this woman?

  She headed for the closet, stopped before entering, then pivoted and marched to Roc. “My selfish husband didn’t think to prepare a wardrobe for me. Out of my way. I’ve got to grab someone else’s gear from yet another room.”

  Her attitude rankled. Selfish? He’d pleasured her well. Many times!

  You also left her to deal with her own emotions afterward.

  Guilt choked him. What if she had experienced the same sense of vulnerability as him?

  “Why tell me the truth now?” he asked.

  “Because I don’t have time for another mantrum. Your murder isn’t going to plan itself.”

  Roc acted without thinking, picking her up and carting her to the bed, where he tossed her. Before she finished bouncing, he flashed to her side, coiled one arm around her and drew her against him.

  “What are you doing?” She sputtered. “I’m not going another round with you. We’re enemies again!”

  He didn’t know what he was doing. “We can be enemies tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” Rather than reject him, she snuggled into him, seeking his warmth. “I’ll go another round with you.”

  She had experienced vulnerability, and he had no idea what to make of it. All he could do was marvel. The unflappable Taliyah Skyhawk had been flapped. “We’re cuddling, not pleasuring.” He had some things to figure out first.

  “I’m not so sure about that. Mmm. You smell good enough to eat,” she said, her voice thicker. She stiffened. “Uh, I should go.” Something tinged her words. Panic? “I need to go immediately.”

  Leave him? No. Now that he held her against him again, her cool skin warming, he refused to let her go. “Tell me why you wish to flee, and I’ll consider letting you go.” Before I decline your request.

  “Flee?” She balled her hands and beat on his chest. “You take that back! I do not flee. Ever.”

  “Then settle in and get comfortable. We’re having a real conversation. We can discuss what occurred between us.”

  “What? No! Dude. No. Don’t ruin this.” Bit by bit, she relaxed against him. Whatever had hurt—or spooked?—her no longer seemed to be a problem. “Nothing happened but a momentary truce. Tomorrow, we return to business as usual. Meaning, yes, you’ll stomp around like a drama queen, making decrees that I’ll ignore, and I’ll learn how to kill you.”

  Roc heaved with relief—not a whole lot of irritation. “I’m glad you understand how things must be between us.”

  Must? He was a god. Powerful. A creator of worlds. So he and his men had tried to find other ways to escape the blessing and curse. So they’d found none. Why must the sacrifice roll on? This marriage was different. Shouldn’t the ending be different, too?

  Thinking like Solar?

  “Understand?” Taliyah snorted. “Warlord, I’m demanding it.”

  In all the worlds Roc visited, he’d encountered no one quite like Taliyah. Even now, in the warmth of his arms after four—five?—orgasms, she wouldn’t bend. “How are you not General yet?”

  Her little claws curled into his chest as she petted him, and he knew the question pleased her. “Apparently my own sacrifices suck. Even the arm and leg I once amputated on purpose. Did I receive my star? Nooo.”

  “Why did you offer an arm and a leg?”

  “Haven’t you heard the old adage about giving an arm and a leg? Well, I had a dagger, so...”

  Bad form to discuss your past brides with the current, yet he told her, “Chaos hinted that I’ve made mistakes with my sacrifices, as well.”

  “What happens when you make the right sacrifice?”

  “I ascend for the second time.” He needed to ascend to have a family. Could he have a family without his gravita? Here, now, with Taliyah pliant and curious, he thought he...wasn’t sure. “I will kill Erebus for good.”

  She braced, as if expecting a blow. Why?

  “Hey, the alevala are moving again,” she mumbled, resting her cheek on the hollow of his shoulder.

  “They stopped?”

  “While we were busy negotiating our...one-night truce.”

  She didn’t know what to call what they’d done, did she? Good, because he didn’t, either. It hadn’t been sex. He’d had every type of sex imaginable, but this had been...better.

  “That happens w
hen I’m lost in anhilla.” To his knowledge, the alevala had never stopped due to arousal before.

  “That was anhilla? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t expect your most fearsome state to mimic horniness.”

  “You’ll know anhilla when you see it. I destroy every foe in my vicinity without thought, mercy or regret.”

  “Okay, stop with the sexy dirty talk if we’re not going to fool around again.” She tapped the spot above his heart. “Stains are growing here. What’s that about?”

  Tension overtook him in an instant. To distract her from the question, he reached out to clasp behind her thigh and heft her partly atop him. With her sex resting against his and her face cradled against his throat, he said, “Tell me more about you.”

  She went rigid before struggling against him. “I really should go, Roc.”

  Why did she keep doing this? “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “You just...you smell so good.” With a moan, she softened. She ran her nose up his neck, just as he’d done to her, gyrating against him.

  As he cupped her backside, she wrenched from his arms and sat up—not before he caught a glimpse of her face.

  Black lines branched from her eyes.

  19

  “I’m leaving, and that’s that.” Taliyah raced around the room, gathering weapons. “Don’t try to stop me.”

  She’d known she’d played with fire. Hunger clawed at her. She’d gone two days without a meal or even a snack. In the past few hours, she’d met and threatened her father, experienced incredible pleasure at the hands of the husband planning to murder her, received an official dismissal from said husband immediately afterward, showered and cursed his name, then enjoyed a royal welcome back into the strong embrace she’d craved more than she would ever admit.

  She scowled, angry with herself, with Roc. With Erebus. Her emotions had been through the wringer, squeezed within an inch of their lives.

  What she and Roc had done... The satisfaction she’d tasted in his arms warred with the uncertainty. She felt as though she’d finally stored the mysterious parts of her life in the same box. A puzzle she had only to complete in order to make herself whole.