The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)
Alaroc released her, separating from her so abruptly she stumbled.
Okay, so she could add flashing other people to his résumé of skills. She glared up at him, only to lose her train of thought. The silver striations in his molten-gold irises were spinning.
“Now,” he said, unveiling a sardonic smile. “We do this my way, nice and easy, or we do this your way. Not nice and easy.”
Different parts of her quivered as she scanned the bedroom, on the hunt for what could possibly cause this kind of reaction in—Oh, screw that! A beautiful but treacherous chastity belt waited on the mattress. She recognized the design.
A thin metal band decorated with swirling symbols fit around her hips. Two flat links of chain hung from the band’s center, one in front and one behind, both delicate in appearance. They held a small, curved metal sheet in place.
No wonder Alaroc exuded sizzling excitement. With this “gift,” he better secured his investment, ensured his bride remained untouched and punished Taliyah for taunting him at dinner.
Anger glimmered within her. Definitely anger. Not an excitement comparable to his. “You need help to resist me? How sad for you.”
He paid no attention to her words. “For once, harpy, I’m hoping to do this your way.”
Hot shivers trekked her spine, pings of exhilaration—er, hotter anger singeing every nerve ending. “How do you feel about regifting? I think the belt will really make your erection pop.”
“Either I put it on you with your cooperation, or I just put it on you.” Guttural tone, unwavering resolve. “Decide.”
Her mind raced. Man, she’d really poked the bear with her jealousy comment, huh? He’d been itching for this fight ever since. Accepting the belt would discombobulate him, but giving up a personal freedom without a battle wasn’t her style.
Why waste an opportunity to witness his combat skill?
She toed up to him. “Looks like you’re getting your wish, Astra.” His delectable scent muddled her thoughts, but she forged ahead. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
A slow grin bloomed. “With pleasure, bride.” In a motion too swift for her to perceive, he swept her into his arms and threw her atop the bed, right next to the chastity belt. Before she even stopped bouncing, he lifted her skirt and ripped off her minuscule panties.
She gasped as cool air kissed her heated core. “Well, well, well. You have moves. Not bad.”
“There’s more to come.”
“I’m sure there is.”
To her consternation, he didn’t pounce. He moved to the side of the bed. Gaze locked on her, he rolled his head left and right, popping bones in his neck. Preparing. Muscle and tendon flexed, and she gulped. All that carefully banked power was doing strange things to her concentration.
Inner shake. Taliyah propped her weight on her elbows, smiled with invitation as he leaned toward her—and kicked his face with her six-inch stilettos.
He caught her ankle, but only after she’d cut his cheek. Blood trickled from the wound already healing.
“I have moves, too,” she said.
“I’m sure you do.” He grazed his thumb over her heel, tickling, popping the shoe off. “Have you ever worn a chastity belt?”
Do not moan. “Only in nightmares.”
A husky, sardonic chuckle met her answer. “You’ll wear mine.”
How could a voice remind her of sandpaper and silk at the same time? “You’ll have to subdue me first. Can you?”
His gaze dropped to the apex of her thighs as a bead of sweat trickled from his temple. “I think you like the idea.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. The madness! “I like the possibility of your defeat,” she said, her voice hoarser than usual. How humiliating.
No more conversation. Erupting, Taliyah kicked him with her other foot. Harpy speed allowed her to nail him once, twice, thrice. Could he have stopped her? Probably. But he didn’t even try. He held her stare, the stiletto’s heel sinking into his shoulder with each strike.
“The way your breasts jostle...” Pulling himself from his stupor, he plucked the shoe from her and pitched it behind him.
When he reached for her, she punted him in the throat. He stumbled a single step, and she jolted upright, punching him in the same spot she’d last kicked him. Her knuckles cracked with the first blow and shattered with the second, his trachea like steel. She didn’t care; she swung again.
He flashed before the next blow landed, disappearing. Heat behind her! Taliyah rolled back and punted her legs. Contact! He grunted, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
“You’ve had your fun. Now I’ll have mine.” He dived for her.
Just before he landed, she rotated. He crashed on the mattress, but launched up with purpose.
She rolled and kicked. He latched on to her ankle and tugged. They grappled on the bed, the floor, knocking into furniture and shattering knickknacks. She fought dirty, her entire body engaged in the battle. Wings fluttering, fists like hammers. If an opportunity presented itself, she took it, poking at his eyes, crushing his throat and bruising his balls.