The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

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 admiration 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.