The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

“The kind I’ve been dealing with from the beginning,” he retorted, sealing himself inside the stall and erecting two trinite posts to keep her out. It wasn’t long before the steam coated the glass, blurring his form. “Go away, Taliyah.”

“What’s your problem?” she grumbled. “You got a good night’s sleep.”

“I never slept. I communicated with my men. Since I’ve refused to listen to Erebus’s last two messages, he sent phantom hordes to visit my warlords every hour, telling them my stardust is genuine, you are my gravita, and they should lock me away until the day of the sacrifice.”

“In all fairness, it is, I am, and they should.”

“I can’t disagree. I...don’t want you dead, Taliyah.”

Stunned, she faltered. He was falling for her. He must be.

Mind. Blown.

A squelching sound came from the stall. A sound she recognized. Was he removing that section of alevala?

Her eyes widened when the metallic scent of blood wafted to her nostrils. He was. But why? What didn’t he want others to see?

She opted not to ask him—yet. In his current mood, he’d only refuse to respond. Pick your battles.

As she padded out of the bathroom, he called, “How are the phantoms getting past the wall, Taliyah?”

She stopped, his flat tone sending a chill down her spine. Yesterday, she’d thought she’d made headway with him. That he’d accepted her claims of independence. At least partially. Apparently, she’d been wrong.

“I don’t know. Want me to ask Erebus about it the next time he ambushes me?”

A vile curse served as his answer. “How often do you need to feed?”

The change of subject threw her, but she hurried to recover. “Usually daily. Why?”

“Do you need to feed now?” He didn’t even try to mask the thrum of hope.

Again, she took great satisfaction in telling him, “Nope. I promise you, I’m quite good.” Truth. Whatever she’d taken from him had done the job and then some.

As he huffed with either relief or disappointment, Taliyah kicked into gear, leaving him to his shower. She had better things to do. Like practice removing her ring. Just for a second.

A naked, soaking-wet Roc with a newly healed patch of skin above his heart materialized in front of her. He grabbed her and flashed her to the shower, where he removed all of her hardware before leaving her alone.

Such an underhanded warlord. But oh, she loved being free!

He remained in the bathroom, dressing as she soaped up and pondered what might drive him to remove an entire hunk of flesh. Guilt? He wasn’t the type. Fear? But fear of what? Embarrassment? But why?

“What’s on today’s agenda?” she asked as she shut off the water and toweled off.

“The same thing as yesterday.”

Ugh. More altar-chiseling.

“Out,” he commanded.

“I can’t exit the stall until you remove the trinite.”

“Why don’t I come to you?” Once again, he appeared before her. He was shirtless, wearing leathers and combat boots. The same as usual, mixed with a different expression: chilling determination.

In his hands, he held all the metal, and an ice-blue tank with matching short shorts.

“Hard pass,” she said, barely able to stop herself from retreating. “Metal is so last season. I’ll take the outfit, though, if you promise not to drool all over me.”

His eyes blazed. “This is happening, Taliyah. I can’t trust you, and I can’t watch you. I’ll be busy doing other things. Accept it.”

Never! “Want to know something? Before this, I played with the possibility of us being a team. A real one. Me and you, out to conquer the world and save everyone’s day. That is now officially off the table. Do this, and I become your enemy, our truce over for good.”

He flinched as if she’d slugged him. He also stood his ground. “So you plan to fight me again?”

“What do you think?”

Though he appeared resigned, he fought her until the bitter end. Once again, he treated her like spun glass, careful not to harm her as she used him as a punching bag.

When her hand “slipped,” cupping his shaft, he growled. She couldn’t stop this, but she could ensure he regretted it.

After that, his hands slipped on a regular basis, lingering on her breasts, stroking between her legs. When his eyes narrowed, his breath shallowing, Taliyah knew she’d have no trouble tempting him to keep her in bed, metal-free. And she wanted to. Oh, she wanted to! But she resisted. Why reward him for a temporary freedom?

“Took you twice as long this time, huh, baby?” Let him stew in his desires. Since she must wear his metal all day, he must deal with a steel-hard erection. She lay on the floor, panting, every shackle in place. “Either your reflexes are slowing or you can’t keep your hands off your phantom.”

He stood over her, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “Yesterday’s time in the sun put freckles on your nose.”