The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

Water sprayed between them, mist twirling up. She became a dream...a nightmare. Despite the acerbic tone she’d used before, she evinced raw desire now.

Her nipples drew tight as she roved a slumberous gaze over him. Did she note the tension in his stance? The hardness of his shaft? Did she celebrate her effect on him?

Tiny pink claws glided down her torso to tease the thatch of curls between her legs. “I can’t help but notice you aren’t leaving, husband.”

Was it possible... Did she experience the same frenzied tug-of-war? Did her body experience the same ravening hunger as his?

His heart thudded, as if he were a young lad dealing with his first maid. Roc had decided to take his interactions with her one minute at a time. This minute required a decision and the strength to see it through.

Pleasure a phantom and suffer, or not pleasure a phantom and suffer?

Before Taliyah, he would’ve opted for the second. Gladly. No thought needed. A phantom, much less a sacrificial lamb, had no business in his bed. But a gravita...a wife...

He swallowed, different muscles flexing. Want her? Take her...

Why shouldn’t he take her? He was Commander. Why deny himself what he wanted? He’d earned the right to have whomever he wished, whenever and wherever he wished.

Erebus sought his misery. Why oblige his enemy and welcome his own torment? The god expected Roc to fight his attraction, remaining in an aggravated state. He hated what Taliyah was, yes; she would feel like paradise regardless. He didn’t trust her, but he didn’t need to trust her to protect himself from her attacks.

You will regret this.

“Well,” she demanded, anger eroding her softened repose, “are you just going to stand there?”

He met her gaze, fury to fury. She began to pant. A telling sign he didn’t have the strength to resist.

Motions clipped, he kicked off his boots and unfastened his leathers. “This means nothing, bride.”

She cupped her breasts, eyelids sinking. “It means less than nothing.”

They stepped toward each other, bumping together. As he lowered his head for a kiss, she lifted to her tiptoes. Their tongues thrust and tangled together, a fevered madness setting in.

23

Taliyah didn’t want to think, but thoughts zipped through her mind with dizzying speed anyway, culminating in a need to both push the Astra away and lock him in place. To savor this sense of satisfaction and curse it.

He’d imprisoned her. Insulted and threatened her. And fed her. Tended to her when she’d sickened. Freed her from the belt. Watched her with undisguised lust. And now he kissed her with stunning ferocity.

She told herself she didn’t have to make a lifelong decision here. Enjoying the moment was a perfectly acceptable plan. Right now, the fact that she’d missed him didn’t matter. And why bother trying to guess how she’d feel after the shower? She’d feel how she’d feel. She could handle herself and Roc then.

Her claws curled into his chest as she returned his kiss with every drop of lust frothing inside her. Lust she shouldn’t feel, given her hunger, but there it was. She couldn’t slake it. His warmth seeped past her skin, chasing away the dungeon’s chill.

Steam enveloped them, and water rained. Warm droplets dripped into their mouths and splashed over their bodies.

He yanked her closer, smashing her breasts into his chest, and she slung her arms around him. With every inhalation, her nipples grazed his ripped chest. She scored his back, lost. Everywhere he touched, sensations left a mark. Hotter heat. Wild tremors. Delicious prickles and tormenting flutters. The aches. Oh, the aches!

As she writhed against him, thoughts fragmented, the rooms in her brain shutting down, one by one. Her body took the helm. The promise of bliss beckoned.

He pushed her into the wall. Cool tile drew a gasp, but hot man added the moan. Leaving her off-kilter, he slicked his hands over her breasts, circled her nipples with his knuckles, then plumped and kneaded the mounds.

“I want to do things to you,” he growled into her mouth.

As she quivered, excited by his claim, he stilled. Rage overcame his expression, confusing her. “Roc?”

He peered up at the ceiling and roared, “Not now!”

What? Had she hurt him? “Roc?” she repeated, plucking her claws free of his flesh. She grimaced when she spotted beads of blood. “My bad.”

He lowered his head and rested his forehead against hers. “My apologies. I wasn’t speaking to you. A phantom horde has overtaken the kitchen, and they’re here to feed.” The more he spoke, the stiffer he became. When he lifted his head, fury darkened his expression.

“I’m not to blame,” she stated bluntly. And what a nice reminder: never mix war and pleasure.

He got his huff on. “I laid no blame at your door, Taliyah.”

Please. “You laid all blame at my door, Roc.”

He glared at her as he summoned more of those trinite posts. One in each corner, trapping her within the stall.