Apparently tradition was bullshit. He gripped the princess’s arm. He studied the mark. A fucking dragon. One that ran the length of her forearm. What the fuck did that mean? He reached down and touched the newly burned mark just inside his left hip, near his well-satisfied dick. A dragon.
Every mark had significance. Shanie and he had shared a Nyral love knot. This? This was a frightening sign. A dragon. Dangerous, violent. Its body and wings obliterated the small, faded mark from his previous mating. It shouldn’t have been possible. Yet when he gazed at the intricate marking on his lover’s forearm, he felt intense satisfaction. Mine! A feeling that mingled with guilt that his old mark was gone, his connection to Shanie severed forever.
“My arm hurts,” his princess murmured.
She was going to murder him. “Princess—”
Her eyes drifted open, her gaze sleepy, satisfied, kittenish. “You’re good, Dom Boy. But I’ll bet you’ve heard that before.”
“Princess, I—”
“What did you do to my arm? It feels like a—” She stopped when her eyes focused on her right forearm.
This would have been a good time to remove his cock from her pussy. But he didn’t. He stayed buried inside her as the truth penetrated her sex-fogged brain. If he hadn’t, she might have hurt him. “I swear, Princess. I didn’t think it was possible—”
“You fucking asshole. Get out of me right now,” she screamed and pummeled his chest. Her fingers reached for his face, her nails scoring his skin. Pain ripped through him. He wasn’t sure it was all from her nails scratching his cheeks. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to do it. He’d marked her as his mate, and the consequences were severe.
He finally captured her hands and held them over her head. Unfortunately, this only lifted her breasts to scrape his chest and harden his cock. Her squirming sent his libido into overdrive. “Princess, unless you want me to fuck your brains out, you need to hold still.”
She froze. Goddamn it. Her heat swept through him, and he took a deep breath. “I was mated before. She’s dead. I swear I had no idea I could mark another woman. I’ve never heard of it happening. Ever. I didn’t mean to—”
“But you did. Part of you must have meant to.”
He couldn’t stand the rage in her eyes. His lips tightened. She was right. There was a part of him that wanted to make her his.
He slid away from her, his cock protesting, his soul screaming at the disconnection. “You’re right, of course,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”
His cock throbbed, ached, and burned when he jerked his flight suit up. She said nothing, her coldness enough of a comment. His heart clenched. He’d wanted to claim her, possess her, own her. Instead he’d branded her, cursed her to a connection that only brought more pain. He deserved her contempt.
“But you did touch me,” she finally said. “You marked me. That means I’m your Nyral mate. Which means we’re both fucked. And not in a good way.”
He sighed. “Well, perhaps we’ll get lucky and the Brotherhood will kill me. My death will free you.” He met her gaze. “Unless you wish to kill me yourself.” He should expect no less. It was heinous to mark a woman unwilling to be mated without her knowledge. “On my planet, I will receive severe punishment for this.”
She glared, her blue eyes snapping. “Oh I don’t think so, Dom Boy. I’m going to make you suffer. You’ll live. As long as I say so, you’ll fucking live. And you can watch while I fuck other men.”
His hand whipped out and gripped her arm. Just the thought of another man touching her brought the fire close to the surface. A fire he’d only experienced once, when the Brotherhood killed Shanie. He took a deep breath and tried to squash the rage that snapped at his mental cage.
Leo yanked her closer, adrenaline tripping through his veins. He had to warn her. “You’d better learn something right now. A Nyral mating ties us in ways I’ll never understand, but if another man touches you, sexually or otherwise, I’ll go into a rage. It’s something to do with our hormones, and I can’t control it. If you don’t want one of your pretty boys dead at your feet, don’t push me.”
He released her suddenly and stared at her beautiful face. This wasn’t going to be easy. Damn it. She was his mate. No getting away from it, and no changing it. It was burned into their skin, connected by ancient instinct. And she belonged to him. His cock sat up and showed its approval. Down boy. Down.
“Look, Princess—”
“You might want to start calling me ‘Your Majesty,’” she sneered. “That’s what the consort is supposed to call me.” She yanked her flight suit up and started to put her arms in the sleeves.
It stung. He already knew she was miles above him socially. He’d fucked up, but she wasn’t going to shove him into some fucking corner. She belonged to him. His hand shot out and snatched her arm toward him. “This?” He stroked the mark on her arm, and her lids drifted down. “This is my mark. It makes me your master. I won’t be calling you ‘Your Majesty’ anytime soon. But you’ll call me ‘Master’ before I’m finished.”
* * *
Master? She was never going to call him that. The bastard. Her arm hurt. Her pussy ached. And she wanted him. Again and again.
No. He would erase her, own her. What little she knew about Nyral dominants was that they were possessive about their women. She’d be no better than a hollowed-out shell like the ones who gave in to the power, who were consumed by Placido.
She yanked her arm, trying to pull away from him. Her other hand swung, and he blocked her blow aimed for his head. “Big mistake, Princess.” He shackled her hands behind her back, and her flight suit dropped down around her ankles.
His cock hardened as if he hadn’t just fucked her, just marked her. It burned against her thigh as he pressed her against the wall. The mark on his hip seemed to burn through the material between them and throbbed into her skin; the fingers of his free hand stroked the mark on her arm.
Oh God! She wanted him, needed him. She wanted to suck his cock, shatter beneath him, belong to him. She struggled against him, against herself. Her heart beat faster, and her pulse pounded.
“Princess,” he said softly.
Her gaze jerked to his face. There were lines around his mouth and eyes. He didn’t seem triumphant or gleeful that he’d claimed her, dominated her. He seemed as tormented as she was. “Please,” she whispered. “Let me go.”
“I can’t,” he answered, his fingers softly stroking the brand on her arm. “I never meant for this to happen.”
“I want my clothes on,” she insisted. She wouldn’t be able to resist him naked. He was too potent, too sexy.
After a long stare, he released her. She had to turn her back to him. Composure. Where the hell were her famous wit and charm to get her through this situation? Her hands shook, and her body felt deliciously bruised. The buttons on her flight suit seemed beyond her ability. She almost sobbed when she fumbled with them.
His hands reached around and began to button her suit. She took a deep breath and let him. The feel of his hands were so good, so warm. She shuddered and resisted the urge to lean back into his arms.
She gasped when his hands reached the buttons near her pussy, but he avoided contact, brushing her skin briefly. When he finished, he gently gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. He’d dressed and seemed distant, in control. His lips were pressed together, and a frown darkened his face. “Sit down.” He led her to a stone bench. The bench was cold against her heated body even through her clothes.
Leo didn’t touch her when he sat beside her. Part of her wanted him to. The damn mark throbbed, and she had to fight the need to stroke it. She kept her gaze on the stone floor. This was too weird, too awkward. There should be some kind of manual for this. Polite Rejoinders For When a Nyral Dominant Accidentally Makes You His Mate or Etiquette for the Woman Who’s Been Mate-Marked as a Cosmic Joke. It would be a fucking best seller.
“I had no idea I would mark yo
u.”
She knew that. Hell, she sensed his shock. Still, it didn’t change the facts. She was mated to the son of a bitch. “Why? Why did you do it?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t…it wasn’t like that. A Nyral dominant only seeks his perfect submissive.” His eyes darkened to an indigo blue. “You were perfect for me. It was like a magnet, and I couldn’t resist the pull.”
“You should have tried.”
“I did.” His gaze met hers.
“Are you saying this is my fault?” Her fists curled, and she forced them to relax. She was acutely aware of his tension. His neck muscles were corded, and his eyes narrowed. The air was thick between them. She glared at him. “How typically male.”
A reddish glint made his eyes glow. “I’m saying that you were a fit for me, a perfect fit. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t resist you.” Heat blasted from his body. “Any more than you could resist me.”
Well, shit, he had a point there. “I could have. I didn’t know you were going to mark me. I thought we were just going to fuck, Dom Boy. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.” She brushed her hair off her shoulders. “That’s all I was looking for.”
An inhuman growl rumbled in his throat. He swallowed and exhaled a long breath. “Unfortunately, I did mark you. There are things you need to know.”
“Like?”
His gaze narrowed. “Like don’t touch another man. Even if I’m not there. We’re mate-marked. I’ll know.”
“Great,” she snipped. “Is this a two-way street? Or are you allowed to fuck anything you want?”
His nostrils flared. “You would also know if I touched another woman, though you are not subject to the rage.”
“Right. So no more fun. Anything else?” She pretended she didn’t care, that this didn’t ache, didn’t rip her into shreds. The man had accidentally marked her. It wasn’t like he gave a shit about her. But they were stuck with each other.
“Don’t defy me in front of other males, particularly another dominant.”
“Fuck you,” she snapped. “I’ll defy you all I want. I’m no perfect submissive.” She wasn’t going to roll over and play dead for this asshole. No matter how much she wanted to fuck him or belong to him.
His lips tightened, and a muscle moved in his jaw. Suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, holding it up. “That,” he ground out, the fingers of his other hand stroking the dragon embedded there from head to tail. “That mark says you are. If you defy me in front of others, I’ll have to assert my dominance, and every time I do, it will bind us tighter. Don’t do it.”
God, she wanted to melt, dissolve right there. Just the tight edge of his voice, the squeeze of his fingers around her arm, the firm slide of his touch over the mark sent her reeling into an ocean of need. She licked her lips.
“Don’t do that.” His voice was hoarse, and the lines around his mouth indicated strain. “I’m barely holding on to my self-control as it is.”
“There has to be a way to undo it.”
He released her arm and shook his head. “None.”
She rubbed her wrist and ignored the erotic throb of the mark. “You weren’t supposed to be able to mark another woman. You don’t know everything.”
He took her hand in his gently, a contrast to his earlier clasp on her arm. “Our council may know. Their records go back centuries.”
“There has to be a way.” She clenched her fists, and her nail bit into her palms. “You don’t understand. A dom? In my life? It’s laughable.”
Okay, so that might not have been the best way to put it, but he didn’t have to look like she’d slapped him. The flash of pain in his face made her heart clench. “Well, it is. I’m the last of the Placido line and—”
“You don’t have to say any more, Princess.” He stood, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he headed for the huge door at the other side of the room. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll be murdered trying to protect you.” He jerked the door open and held it. “After you.”
She stared at him. That fucker. Why did the idea of him being killed make her heart stop? Her stomach lurch? She wanted to hit him. Beat him. Bastard. She glared at him. “I’d like to break that iron control of yours, Dom Boy,” she said through clenched teeth.
For a brief moment, a tormented expression crumpled his face and arrowed through her chest, but it was gone in a flash. “Believe me, Princess. If you don’t move your ass, you’ll get your wish.”
She flounced out of the room. There was no other word for it. No dignity or calm demeanor. She portrayed every ounce of temper in her body language. Why not? The bastard had it coming. Asshole. Prick.
Pissed, she didn’t pay attention to where they were or their surroundings. Out of nowhere, a black arm whipped out and gripped her around the neck. She managed a squeak and brought her elbow back into her assailant’s stomach.
He avoided it easily and twisted her arm behind her back. She cried out. Pain, anguish, and fear combined to spur her to fight, squirm, anything.
Out of nowhere, a roar echoed through the cavern hall. Her mate mark burned like fire. Leo appeared in the hallway, his eyes red, glowing, hot. He was a blur, a knife in his hand as he attacked. The man who held her didn’t even have a chance. The minute his arm loosened, she ducked away, but Leo was slicing through the man like a fucking pincushion.
She stared. She almost didn’t recognize her new mate. His eyes were red; his face was twisted into dark shadows of violence. He was completely fearless, attacking her assailant without any regard for his own safety. Her attacker struck back, but Leo was faster, stronger, and very, very angry. The assailant went down, and Sera gripped Leo’s arm. “Don’t kill him.”
“He touched you, harmed you.” Leo growled the words. Power emanated from him. Rage. This was the Nyral rage. She’d never seen it before. Impressive.
“You saved me. We need information.” She kept her voice steady and strong.
He blinked. Several minutes went by. The red glow in his eyes faded a little, but his hand gripped the knife, blood dripping from his fingers. Finally he relaxed his stance. His free hand flew out and yanked her closer to him. He took possession, his tongue deep in her mouth. It was brutal. Exhilarating. Hot. Without words, Leo staked claim to her, the smell of blood adding a primitive pounding to her heart. Conscious thought fled, and Sera sagged against him. He absorbed her, devoured her. She whimpered against his mouth, but he let go suddenly.
She staggered back, and he caught her arm. The mate mark blazed and burned. She met his gaze in the dim light of the small alcove where the assassin had dragged her. Her throat was dry, and her stomach flopped. Would she ever be able to handle his touch, his possession?
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, then released her slowly.
She stared at him, and he whirled around to deal with their captured, wounded Brotherhood assassin. Leo knelt beside the man, disarmed him, and ripped off his mask.
Sera gasped. Shaun Reynald, the assassin from Sethos Five. The man’s reddish hair and angled features were burned into her brain. You didn’t forget a man who cuffed you to a bed and then threatened to kill you.
“Well, they don’t give up easily, do they?” Leo glanced at Sera. “I gave him several stab wounds. Unless you know a way to heal him, he’ll bleed out.”
Of course she knew a way. And he knew she knew. “Bastard!”
“I don’t care, Princess,” he drawled. “I say let him die. But you wanted to save him”—he rose and stepped back—“so save him.”
She stepped closer. His fingers closed around her upper arm. “But don’t touch him too much, Princess. Or I will kill him.”
The man was a potent mix of danger and sex for her. Damn him. She shut him out. If she had to heal the man on the floor, she was going to have to access the power that ate pieces of her soul. She swallowed.
“If you don’t want to do it, then don’t,” Leo said softly.
“I’ll do it.” She squared her
shoulders and reached for the power she knew was there, just inside her reach. It swamped her, flooded her, filled her.
But something was wrong.
The planet’s power tore through her body; the mate mark hurt like a motherfucker. Her hand clutched her arm, and she screamed. What? Why was she hurting?
Leo was there. His arms wrapped around her, and he held her close. The power still came, but it lashed her, punished her for the mark on her arm, the possession that robbed the planet of its quarry.
Her fingertips glowed, electrified by the power inherent in her people. It ripped through the wounded man, and he convulsed, blood spattering the floor and her face.
The planet wouldn’t back off this time. It was going to suck her dry. Leo whipped her around and glared at her. “No. She’s mine!” His mouth claimed hers, punishing her, sending her spinning. God, the man’s lips were magic, glorious. His tongue danced with hers, twisting and entwining like erotic gymnastics. His hands roamed her body, and she gasped, her pussy throbbing, needy. She was torn in two, shredded by the demand from the planet and the demand of her mate. But she belonged to Leo. Her mate mark burned, and she moaned with the mixed pleasure and pain.
Fire swept along her skin, the sting bringing tears to her eyes even while it joined with Leo’s dominating touch to flood her with sensations. His fingers dug into the soft flesh at her hips, and the dull ache of desire became sharper, needier, like the edge of a razor.
When his knee scraped along her clit, she slipped over the edge and shattered, her orgasm taking all the pain from the planet’s possession and turning it into desire.
Power ebbed, and the planet let her go. It spit and fought to the end, but it could not have her when another possessed her.
Leo broke the kiss and stared at her, his gaze concerned, almost…loving.
She stared back, helpless, enthralled, and realized she had fallen in love with the only man who had not only mastered her, but the planet that desired to destroy her as well.
Marked 2: Marked for Desire Page 8
