by Lynda Aicher
The second one spun like a tiny, deadly saw blade straight for his forehead. Not waiting to see if hit its mark, Airiana dove to the side in a well-practiced diversion move and was just regaining her footing when she was jerked violently into the air by invisible fingers. Her body was tossed across the cylinder until her back slammed into the metal wall with enough force to leave a dent.
She sucked in a breath against the pain that radiated down her spine and up across the back of her head. She withheld a moan by clamping down on her tongue until it bled, the tangy, metallic taste sprang to life in her mouth. The hidden force tightened the hold around her neck, arms and legs and kept her suspended against the building, her feet dangling a good three feet from the floor. Her arms were spread wide and pinned to the wall where she hung like a sacrificial lamb strung-up for slaughter. Cursing silently, she closed her eyes and refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her distress.
“Not so cocky now, huh?”
His voice was low, close. She could hear him moving around her where he held her pinned to the rusted wall.
Pulling deep, she mustered her bravado and quirked the corner of the mouth up. “Second rule of engagement—force your opponent to show their power as early as possible.”
He growled again, the low rumble stoked her confidence.
“Check.” The soft click of her tongue emphasized the taunt.
The pressure tightened around her neck, squeezing the metal collar into her skin and forcing her to lift her chin up higher in an unsuccessful attempt to get more air to her lungs. With her eyes still shut, every sound was amplified as her senses strained to pinpoint his location. The wind picked that moment to hammer at the poor excuse for a building, rocking the interior with the hollow echo of diffused air.
“Thanks for reminding me, sweet cheeks.” The soft puff of hot breath against her ear made her flinch in surprise. She tried to jerk away, but couldn’t. The words vibrated down her ear canal and sent unwanted shivers down her spin.
She felt a hand run up the inside of her leg and her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
“Checking for weapons, of course.” Again, his deep voice rumbled against her ear, his hair stoking against her cheek. He smelled of the outdoors—fresh, clean with a hint of danger. “I wouldn’t want to miss any, especially after you showed just how lax I’ve been.”
The hand moved over her knee and continued up toward the center of her body. Heat bloomed on her cheeks while fire began to rage in her core. The dragon popped his head up and spun in a quick dance of excitement. But even worse than that, the energy sang. It pumped through her despite the collar and enticed her to enjoy. To give in and accept the pleasure. It pulled at her, begged her to succumb. Why? How was he doing that to her? Why this man? This Energen?
Resisting, she bit her lip and clenched her teeth against the need as his hand glanced over her sex and headed back down the inside of her other leg.
“Nope, nothing there,” he teased right before he nipped at her earlobe.
“Uncle,” she cried.
“What?” His hand stopped high on her inner thigh, the heat burning through her jeans to singe the tender skin beneath.
“Uncle, damn you,” She whispered, giving in, unable to withstand the temptation he offered and afraid of what might happen if she let the game persist. His low chuckle grated against her nerves even as he removed his hand and stepped back. An inch.
“And just when things were getting fun.” The challenge glared in his eyes, but she wasn’t taking the bait. She gritted her teeth and told him where her weapons were hidden. Her breath held deep in her chest as he slowly retrieved each one, making every brush against her body a deliberate and taunting caress. It wasn’t until the last weapon cleared her body that she slowly released the held air and let herself breath.
He assessed her from head to toe, a clear look of victory crowing in his gaze. “Now, your name.”
She glared, then looked away. He stepped closer, lifted his hand and moved it straight for her breast.
“Airiana,” she spit out quickly, all thought of lying forgotten in her haste to halt his intent. Truly, it wasn’t him she feared, but her own body. Her nipples were already tight little pebbles of irritation after the contact during the weapon removal process.
“Airiana,” he repeated like he was testing the sound as it rolled languidly off his tongue. His lips curled up in apparent approval. “Soft, exotic, tempting…a lot like you. Well, except the soft part.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she gritted out. “Now, will you let me down? You’ve more than shown off your impressive mastery of the element of air, and my arms are starting to go numb.”
In truth, she would rather hang there all day than ask him for anything, but there was no way to defend herself in her current position. The complete vulnerability, total exposure to him, left her feeling weak and she couldn’t handle that. She’d rather grovel for leniency than be at his mercy for a second longer than necessary.
“So you like my powers, do you?” He took another step back. “And I haven’t even shown you the really good stuff. You must be easy to impress. I’ll have to remember that.”
“Easy?” she scoffed. “Not hardly. I was just trying to stroke your oh-so-fragile Energen ego in an attempt to get my way.”
“Not very effective if you tell me what you’re doing.”
She clamped her lips shut and held her tongue despite every urge she had to respond. Surprisingly, she felt the hold on her arms, legs and throat loosen and with unexpected gentleness, her body was slowly lowered to the ground. Her legs gave out briefly as the blood rushed through the limbs, but she held her weight, refusing to fall. She braced a hand against the cold metal wall while the blood pumped back through her numbed appendages.
Airiana looked him over and made an attempt to even the playing field. “So who are you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Your captor.”
She straightened and pushed away from the wall. “Your name?”
His arms crossed over his chest and he narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “Rule of engagement number three—always keep the odds in your favor. So, why would I want to balance the odds when I clearly don’t need to?”
She clenched her jaw, his arrogance grating on her nerves. The fact that he knew what she was trying to do and threw her own taunting word game back at her only irritated her more. Whatever game he was playing, she would best him. Her pride wouldn’t let her lose.
Even if some hidden part of her wanted to.
Chapter Four
Louk held his arms crossed tightly over his chest and resisted the urge to rub at his aching ear. Bloody hell, the insufferable woman actually clipped him with a throwing star. For some damn reason, he was almost proud of her.
Which was just damn insane. He certainly couldn’t be attracted to a Shifter. Shouldn’t even be thinking like that. He was only playing her to get what he wanted.
Giving himself a hard mental shake, Louk focused on the lethal beauty and thought of dog shit. Anything to get back to thinking with his mind instead of his dick. He had brought her there to get information on his brother. He needed to do the job and be done.
A trail of sweat made its way down his back, his body heated despite the coldness around them. The abandon silo had been the first place he’d thought of when he’d grabbed her. It served its purpose, but wasn’t exactly oozing with warmth.
He took a slow, measured step toward her. “This verbal sparring game is really quite interesting, but it’s getting us nowhere.” He took another step and relaxed his arms to his sides. “Maybe we should go back to the other approach that got you talking so quickly.”
He took another step closer. Her shoulders pulled back.
Another step. Her chin came up.
Another step. Her eyes narrowed.
One more would put him within arm’s reach. Already, he could feel the energy pushing at
him. Like a giant shove to his back, urging him on. Almost goading him into it. What was the deal?
He smiled and gave her another suggestive once over. He made sure his voice was low and husky when he finally spoke to her. “Are you going to talk? Or do I need to help you with that?”
“Touch me and I’ll break every finger that does.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like a challenge, sweet cheeks.” Her lips clenched together at his endearing insult. He held up his pointer finger, taunting her with the digit. “You only need to answer a few questions. Is that really so hard?”
Her chest puffed up and down as her irritation mounted. The movement only serving to pull his attention to her nicely rounded breasts displayed beneath the thin T-shirt her open jacket exposed. Truly, she had the body of a goddess. Tall, slim, toned. Exactly what he liked—if it wasn’t stacked around the soul of a Shifter.
At her silence, he took the last step forward and stretched the finger toward her, stopping just a fraction from the tip of her pert little nose. To her credit, she kept her gaze focused on him, not his finger. Her hot breath caressed his hand and warmed his fingers.
“What’s it going to be?” He waved the finger back and forth in front of her nose.
“Try it.”
It was a quiet dare. Her eyes flashed dark excitement, the anticipation virtually jumping from them.
The raven stretched its wings and ruffled its feathers in eager anticipation.
The energy hummed with desire, with need. Filled with want. It rushed through him, firing his blood, igniting every nerve ending, torching his skin until his entire body vibrated with unfulfilled hunger.
The air stilled, his heart pounded and his finger bent forward to tap the very tip of her nose.
Her hand clamped around his wrist the next second. Firm, lethal. The energy surged at the contact and flooded his system as it blended with hers, the cocktail a heady mix of pure addiction.
Her movements became a graceful dance of precision and reflex. In one fluid motion, she turned, twisted his arm down pulling him off balance, then succinctly flipped him over her shoulder. His back hit the cement with a resounding thud and a gust of expressed air.
Holy Fuck. She was hot.
Louk’s own reflexes kicked in, years of practice and training surfacing to automate his movements. A quick roll saved his neck from the downward plunge of her boot, the dust and mouse droppings scattering in the force of the wake. He pushed to his feet and immediately ducked to avoid the high-kicked foot aimed for his head.
“I told you not to touch me,” she seethed followed by a series of spins, kicks and quick arm jabs.
Obviously, she’d had some serious training in the martial arts. Louk ducked, dodged, rolled and spun his way around every move. He bounced lightly on his toes, anticipating the next move and chuckled each time her advance missed its mark.
The girl could fight.
And damn, did that turn him on.
In their world, either you knew how to fight—how to defend and protect yourself—or you died.
“Hell, sweet cheeks,” he drawled, avoiding another spin-kick combo. “It was just too tempting.”
She growled in frustration and advanced again. “My name is not sweet cheeks.” She emphasized the point with an attempted jab to his head.
“With an ass as fine as yours—” he ducked, spun, then grazed a hand over the round mounds of the body part in question, “—it really should be.”
She gasped and spun away from his touch. “Asshole. That’s what I’ll call you.”
“Ah, you can do better than that.”
“Dick.” She kicked.
He ducked. “Got one.”
“Jerk.” She swiped.
He spun. “Not really.”
“Arrogant, pig head, scum.” She jabbed, kicked, kicked.
He dodged, twisted, rolled. “No ring to it.”
They both paused. He smiled as he waited for her next move. And he knew she would have one. Unable to resist the taunt, he poked at her. “Ready to call uncle, again?” It was a lot like poking a stick at an angry lion through the bars at the zoo. Only there weren’t any bars to hide behind, which only made it more exciting.
She exploded from her crouch in a wild movement of arms and legs all choreographed to flow in an unending blend of grace. It was beautiful to watch, her body bending and moving in an elegant symphony of rhythm and skill. Each action distinct and effortless, blending into the next without pause. Without thought.
A lethal ballerina intent on destruction.
It was so mesmerizing that he was almost tempted to let her land a hit. Almost.
He waited until the very last second before he spun then blocked her downward drop punch. Her eyes widened, but she turned and led with a side swipe. Louk prepped and timed his movement so he effectively grabbed her arm, twisted, caught the second arm and held her immobile before him.
They stared at each other, their breaths mingling and disintegrating between them, their muscles tense, tight, prepared.
“Check,” was all he said. He cocked a half grin and gloated a little at his triumph. He had her in a win-tight hold.
Her eyes were dark depths of raging fire. She grinned slightly, then raised a knee with a sharp intent at reaching his balls. Prepared, he easily dodged the obvious move. She took advantage of his distraction and twirled her body around causing him to loosen his hold on her arms. Just as quickly, she reached up, grabbed his pointer finger and snapped it in one clean break.
“Mate,” she said, victory ringing in her voice.
“Son of a bitch!” He yanked his finger out of her grasp and gave his injured hand a shake. His aching finger was pointing outward at an odd angle and throbbed in shallow beats in time with his heart.
She stepped back, smiling like a dragon sitting on her stash of jewels. “I told you I’d break it.”
“Well, God dammit, woman. You didn’t have to be so literal.” He snapped the finger back into place, then made a big show of tucking the injury under his arm and wincing in pain even though the energy would quickly heal it.
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed and arched her eyes into a dramatic roll. “It’s just a finger. I didn’t know Energens were such wussies.”
He pounced. One second he was playing up the injury the next he was on her. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down with his momentum to the cement. His back took the impact of their joint fall, but he rolled and trapped her beneath him before she had a chance to react.
She pushed against his chest until he trapped her wrists, pulled them over her head and pinned them to the ground. Her body wiggled and bucked beneath him. He groaned, the intimate contact rubbing against his cock and burning a need within him.
Louk dropped more of his weight onto her. “I don’t want to crush you, but you needed to stop unless you want me to fuck you right here. Right now.” She stilled. “I thought you’d feel that way.”
“I thought your finger hurt,” she puffed out between short breaths.
“I thought you were smarter than that.”
She pursed her lips before releasing a sigh. “Point to you. Now let me up.”
She felt too good beneath him. Too perfect. He couldn’t think like that. But the raven cooed a soft note of pure happiness and rode high on the currents. The energy swirled and blended between them. Every contact point became an open vessel of exchange—his to hers, hers to his. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt.
Ever wanted.
“What are you doing to me?” he growled, his voice three octaves lower than normal.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Me? It’s not me. It’s you."
He let his eyes close and concentrated on the energy. Within him it was building, churning, humming in desire. Her energy entered and called to him, enticing him to succumb, to let go and try. Just a sample. Maybe more.
Around them, the energy pulsed to its own beat of expectation. It pushed at him,
the pressure was physical and weighed against his body like a stone block pressing on his back, forcing him closer to her. Airiana.
The enemy.
His desire.
“No,” he denied trying to focus on his task. His brother. “It’s not me.”
“Then why am I feeling this?” Her frustration and confusion mirrored his in the tightening of her brows, the slight flaring of her nostrils.
“So, you feel it too?” He winked, trying to bluff off his unwanted attraction. “Thanks for sharing.”
She grunted, an irritated sound from deep in her throat. “Damn you. Just let me up.” She attempted to buck him off by forcing her chest up and trying to brace her legs for leverage. It didn’t work.
“You’d better pray that there’s no mouse shit in my hair.” She continued to struggle, and his cock couldn’t help but notice. She rubbed against it intimately, roughly, suggestively which heightened the energy and torched the flame that burned within him.
“Rule of engagement number four—never give up an advantage.” He ground his hips into her lower body and smiled. “And I definitely have the advantage.”
He licked his lips and attempted to push back the desire her movements heightened. When she continued to buck, he closed his eyes and groaned as his cock hardened more and throbbed in aching need beneath his jeans. A barrier that did nothing to dull the sensation she created with her movements.
“You really do want to get fucked, don’t you?” He opened his eyes as she gasped and stilled. Surprise or anger? No. It was clearly a matched desire that smoldered in her rich, coffee colored eyes. Her pupils were large, her lids hooded, her mouth opened slightly in invitation.
Her tongue slicked out to wet her lips in a slow slice of sensuality. Intentional? Planned? Strategic? He didn’t know. Didn’t care.
The invitation was extended and he was going to accept, damn the consequences. Damn the reprimands. At that moment, she was all he needed. Wanted.
And he was going to have her. No matter the cost.
