“Because you’ve given me cause to think you need to be observed,” he said. A brush of cool air against his forehead revealed he was sweating, too. Leto nudged the guard who stared at a flexible blond centerfold. “We’re going to the practice Cage.”
It wasn’t a request.
The guard only shrugged, although his bulkier, full-body armor nearly concealed the movement. They dressed as part SWAT team goons and part medieval warriors. The two might as well be the same thing. Things Leto hadn’t seen in person were difficult to comprehend. Refusing to be left alone, his mother had followed her young husband into the cartel’s complex in the hope of starting and raising a family. Leto’s father hadn’t believed in educating his son in the ways of the outside world. After all, Leto would become a Cage warrior. His future was set, while Yeta and Pell were prepared to emerge from the dark and find husbands from among the Five Clans. Yeta had succeeded; Pell had never been afforded that chance.
Yet their mother had been adamant in teaching each of her children life aboveground, including Leto. She had insisted that he understand all that existed beyond the cartel’s dark walls. A deep, edgy corner of his mind still doubted any of it. They were words, not concrete facts accumulated by his senses and his experiences.
Guards from the Townsends and Kawashimas wore their own distinctive uniforms, although Leto rarely noticed the details. He only thought about the other cartels’ Cage warriors when the Grievance pairings were announced. That was when he called in favors from the likes of Kilgore. Leto learned all he could about the opponent he would take down.
Nynn dragged her hand along the back of her neck, slick with sweat. “Now we train? I was just about to sleep.”
“I can leave you here. But I thought you might appreciate an extra ration.” He held up a wrapped tray.
After banking her obvious surprise, Nynn stood a little straighter. “What’s on the agenda tonight?”
She no longer called him sir. A trivial thing when she was obeying. He wasn’t sure what to make of her mood that evening. Or his. In all other respects, she should have been the perfect neophyte: a quick study, skilled, and with a powerful motivation to success.
Should have been.
Just like he should have been able to keep his gaze off her breasts as a guard wrapped her wrists in metal. She lifted her chin—that distinctive gesture she must’ve learned among the humans. It accentuated the elegance of her neck, the pout of her lower lip, and the width of her soft, round cheekbones. She glared at him with pale, narrowed eyes, as if she were ten feet tall. That lithe elegance didn’t stop with her neck, but trailed down a body that was tempting. So tempting. She was strength and curves. Power and femininity. Nynn of Tigony would be as much a challenge to bed as she was to battle in the Cages. Leto wanted his hands around her bare waist, down her sinuous back, between her thighs. He would find her wet. He would taste her. And she would taste him, making use of her stubborn mouth.
The guard dragged her into the open and roughly guided her toward the arena. Leto found it more disconcerting than arousing to see her bound and hauled like an animal. He liked her best when she blazed with confidence, because the last thing he wanted was to pity her. Or to sympathize with her pain.
His own pains burned hot enough.
The guards left them alone in the Cage facility and locked the doors. One of them handed Leto the keys to Nynn’s manacles.
They were alone.
“Now what?” she asked.
With calm and patience, his sensual thoughts banished, Leto set the plate on a bench against the wall. He walked closer. He unbound her wrists. And he grabbed the pale gold hair at the top of her head, where the strands were longest. “Tonight, Nynn of Tigony, we see how you react to complete unknowns.”
EIGHT
Leto probably should’ve kept her bound.
She pulled against his hold, wincing in the process. “What is this, some version of underground barbarians’ seduction?”
“Seduction?”
“You drag me out of my room in the middle of the night. Alone.” She clawed at his hands when he wouldn’t release his hold on her hair. “Might as well be a Neanderthal dragging me to his cave.”
Her words rocketed through his body, just when he’d thought his desires were under control. “I intend nothing like seduction, neophyte. Or anything else you imagine.”
Shutting down his acute senses was as much a skill as using them. Rather than indulge in her scent, her gasping breaths, and the way her body still hummed with the energy of her exertions, he pushed a hard clench of desire down to where he locked every selfish impulse. He would bust through the bricks she’d stacked around herself. She could keep her physical armor, but he meant for nothing to remain between her mind and victory.
Leto released her hair, gave her one more look up and down. She held her body stiffly. Straight back. Tense limbs. He couldn’t tell if she was truly confident and waiting for his next move, or poised on the edge of terror. He wanted her snarling, not anticipating the worst. Maybe that was the drawback of working with a woman so fresh from the labs. Yes, she was resilient. She also flinched too much for his taste. Only in the Cage had he seen her shed all doubt and use her past as a weapon.
A radical idea took shape in his mind, unlike any he’d ever considered. Then again, he’d never been permitted three short weeks to bend, break, or understand a neophyte. And he’d never trained a woman like this. All he’d managed from Nynn was a semblance of obedience and augmented physical conditioning.
She expected him to treat her like a piece of meat in a lab.
She expected more pain. More degradation.
She did not expect choice.
Although she still glared, Nynn had stopped struggling. Fatigue showed in every feature. The slackness of her brow. The deep purple crescents beneath her ice blue eyes. The tight pinch of her upper lip. She pushed herself hard, and her ability to recover from injury and physical stress had increased since the first outburst of her power, but that seemed to be waning. Just his luck that she’d be as vulnerable as a human by the day of the match.
The goal was to train her, even if that meant dredging up some gentleness. Maybe it wasn’t a matter of busting through brick defenses so much as slinking through their cracks.
He walked toward the bench where he’d left the food. And sat. “I promised a ration. Will you come eat?”
Wariness altered her features. She was beautiful. More than that, she drew the eye. Even if Leto hadn’t been charged with her care and training, she would claim his attention. That wariness, however, made her look younger—more like how she must’ve appeared among the humans. He didn’t like reminders that she’d once had a life beyond the walls of the complex. In part because that life was obviously holding her back. In part because he didn’t want to sympathize with what she’d lost. In part because he never dealt well with things he couldn’t understand.
Fighting. Feeling the burn of muscles well used and injuries on the mend. Soaking in the balm of applause. Bedding a woman who took his victories into the primal vessel of her body.
Leto knew those things.
And he knew that even the wariest creature eventually responded to food and a soft voice.
Nynn rubbed her face, then the back of her neck again. She assessed the arena, her eyes blue on silver on suspicion. Then she shrugged.
“What was that for?”
She walked toward him with defiance in her steps. Moments of doubt . . . gone. “You could hold out your hand and offer me food, then take it away. In the scheme of risk and reward, this has more potential for reward.”
“Too many words for a caveman like me. Does that mean you’ll eat?”
“Only if you tell me if that was almost a joke.”
“Almost.”
And she almost smiled. A different sort of awareness eased over Leto’s skin, then deeper, into his bones.
Still graceful despite her fatigue, Nynn sat beside him on th
e bench. “Sandwiches, eh?”
“Plan on being picky, woman? Just shut up and eat.”
That was definitely a smile. Her mouth was small when compared to her other features, but she used it well. Small, straight white teeth and curving lips. Nothing too overt, but the effect was devastating. Her eyes lit with amusement. The freckles across her nose and the apples of her cheeks held his attention as they did every time.
She opened the wrapper and began to eat, as he’d commanded. An apple, a sandwich made from rough wheat bread and cold ham, and a large portion of almonds. Protein for fighting. They sat in the arena, which felt cavernous when used as a simple dining facility. They took up so little space in a place where Dragon Kings trained to be larger than life.
He wasn’t used to feeling small.
After glancing toward Nynn, he stopped hesitating and flat-out stared at her profile. The haircut he’d forced on her was uneven, but the short, spiky style suited her. It was aggressive and showed off the strong line of her jaw. She had small ears, which came to a subtle point at the top.
“Is this the price for my food? You staring at me?”
“Not at you. Just your ears. Like a pixie.”
“You don’t seem the sort to wax poetic.”
“I wasn’t. Legends of fairies and pixies originated with Clan Pendray, their Celtic mysticism and Highland secrets. Just wouldn’t expect a feature like that on a Tigony.”
She shrugged again, but the movement was tighter. Definitely defensive. Possibly lying. Leto’s senses flared to full alert. Mentally, he pushed past the barrier of the collar. Extending. Reaching out.
“So you’ve met every Tigony?” she asked.
“No. Just never met one I wanted to study so closely.”
Nynn whirled her face toward his, then backed away. “Really? Don’t start.”
“You’d rather I be like the other men here? Those workers in the mess hall, who sneak around corners to catch a glimpse of you? Because I won’t do it.” He stroked a finger along her jaw. She flinched. When he did it again, and again, she closed her eyes. “If I’m going to stare at you, you’ll know it. And I won’t apologize for it.”
Tension pulled her mouth into a grimace. His senses expanded yet again. He could detect pheromones, tiny tremors, the prickling of her hairs beneath his touch. Finally, he detected the change in her breathing. She relaxed. Minutely. Not like sleep, but that place of calm just before drifting off.
“You’re making me proud,” he said roughly.
Dragon be, where had that come from? He’d been more frustrated with her than pleased, right from the start. And even if his words were true, he wasn’t in the habit of praising neophytes.
“I don’t want to make you proud.” Her voice was whisper soft. Her eyes remained closed.
“I know what you want. And you’ll have it. You resist me at every turn, but we work toward similar goals. Tell me that you understand that much.”
A shuddering exhale bowed her shoulders. She didn’t pull away. “You want to stay here. I want to escape so badly that I’d chew your leg off for the possibility. How is that similar?”
Leto cupped her shoulder and stroked damp, bare skin. The strength contained within her lithe limbs was heady. He’d thought about the obvious. They would fuck. Body on body. Rough hands and even rougher satisfaction. He’d never thought about touch.
Maybe because touching like this—soft, urging—was something he’d never thought to use when indulging in a woman.
“Think nearer to today.” He dipped his head. Gave her time to back away. Made her aware that, yes, he meant to kiss the shoulder he held. “What do we both want in one week’s time?”
His lips met her salty flesh as she whispered what he’d needed to hear. “To win. We want to win.”
“That didn’t make me proud,” he said against her skin. “That was pure pleasure.”
The kiss didn’t end so much as shift. Farther up her shoulder. Past the metal collar that kept him from tasting her throat. He settled his mouth against the hollow just beneath her jaw. Sipped her. Inhaled the perfume of her body. Goose bumps raised in the wake of his lips. Too tempting. He flicked his tongue to smooth them away.
Nynn lifted her face to the ceiling. She gripped the bench with both hands. Wearing nothing more substantial than her underclothes, she breathed quickly. Her chest lifted and lowered. This flimsy cloth, already so near to mimicking the contours of her breasts and her flat stomach, was a weapon only a woman could wield.
Memories overlaid his present state. Only in his small room did he think back on how she’d appeared on day one. Elegant and bold, frightened and clumsy from the cold. Through the centuries, tales of goddesses in possession of untold beauty had been inspired by Dragon King women.
Nynn was Venus made real.
She silently taunted him until, alone in his quarters, he took cock in hand and stroked as hard as he would thrust between her thighs. Or she would follow him into dream where she smiled, opened for him, and took his full, hard length into her mouth. In those dreams-like-nightmares, he didn’t put as much force behind each deep drive of his hips. The pleasure was in seeing how much she could take. How deep. How fast. And how long he could hold out before losing his mind.
Lust stiffened his cock and snapped his limbs taut. Anticipation, desire, want. He tilted her stubborn chin and brought their lips close. A whisper of air between them. If she touched him, she’d ignite him as surely as she’d blown holes in his armor. But she didn’t, with her knuckles still bone white as she clutched the bench. This was submission—to a point. It certainly wasn’t participation.
He’d been working toward her participation for weeks. Only now, he had two goals. They were interwoven in his mind as surely as their limbs would twist and wind together when sharing his bed. They would win their match, and Nynn would be the woman he chose as his reward.
Her heavy-lidded eyes fluttered, trying to open. “Stop touching me.”
He did. Hands off.
Just before he kissed her.
She gasped into his mouth—the only place where their bodies met. Lips slid over lips. She stiffened. Leto wouldn’t have expected otherwise. But she didn’t pull away. Again he thought of a wary creature coming to him by shy steps and little gestures. Victory was a long way off when taken at such a slow pace.
Yet what a victory.
She moaned softly. She opened to him. She nipped his lower lip between her teeth.
It was Leto’s turn to moan. If she meant for the delicate blend of sweet and raw to drive him mad, she succeeded. Without thought, he had slowed to her pace. His tongue pushed inside. He angled his mouth over hers, taking her kiss and taking everything he wanted—all at half speed. Quarter speed. The agonizing slowness still sped his blood, fast, faster, just as his gift could power his body around a Cage. He dragged her taste into his mouth, pulled her scent into his lungs.
That deliberate, aching kiss tested all he was.
How much control could he give up?
How much pleasure could he find in holding back?
He’d never asked either question. But then, he’d never kissed a woman when he was so certain she’d hurtle out of his grasp at any moment, even if that grasp was simply the magnetism of their exploration. Not his strength. Not his skill. He held her by no concrete means.
With the same aching slowness, he withdrew. That whisper of air settled between their mouths again, cooling his lips. He had kept her awake when she needed sleep. He had fed her an unaccustomed ration. And he had spoken soft words.
He petted one finger along her jaw, lifting her chin so that their eyes met, and realized how well he’d played the moment. Her blue eyes shimmered with an iridescent glaze, where desire mixed with relaxation. She probably hadn’t known its like for more than a year.
She was, in effect, what he’d intuitively needed her to be: Receptive. Pliable. Open.
“Nynn,” he said against her cheek, “do you want to use yo
ur powers?”
“I don’t have . . .”
“You do. Now tell me the truth. Do you want to use what resources you have? To win?”
She shuddered. “Yes.”
“Why do you resist?”
A blink changed the color of her eyes, from iridescent to ice. She appeared even more vulnerable than during their kiss. He expected her to rear away from their intimacy at any moment. She would realize exactly where she was, who she was with, what she was doing. And she’d take her softness away.
Stay.
He shoved the disconcerting plea away. Far away.
“Dragon damn you, Nynn.” Only, his curse was a whisper. “Make this possible for both of us.”
“I can’t remember some things. Parts of my youth. Just like I can’t remember when I used them, in there.” She glanced past him, toward the practice Cage, as if it was the enemy. “How is that possible? It’s all blank.”
Telepathic block.
In an instant, Leto knew it was true. He and his siblings had all required blocks of varying strength. Coming into one’s gifts could be difficult—or even impossible, as in Pell’s case. Telepathic blocks from powerful Indranan, those Heartless monsters, were sometimes the only means of survival.
No one could come into a gift like Nynn’s without trauma.
“Memories can be restored,” he said. “You know the methods.”
Nynn flinched as if slapped. Her eyes clouded. She shoved against his shoulder, away—just away. Any distance seemed good enough.
“I won’t do it.”
He’d never heard a statement spoken with so little conviction.
Leto was exhausted from the challenge of moving so slowly. He needed to shake out of this trap. Standing from the bench, he grabbed Nynn’s forearm and hauled her to her feet.
She tripped once as he dragged her to the Cage, but soon she strode beside him. Up they climbed. In they went. With the door locked behind them.
The deactivation of her collar made Nynn cry out. She slumped to all fours. That same rush surged over Leto as if swept over by a wave of pure energy. The lingering taste of Nynn’s kiss turned violent as he savored every little detail.
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