“Battle born daughters more consistently inherit their mother’s magic.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and he suddenly averted his gaze.
There was more to the situation than he was saying, but Skyla decided not to press. She took another sip of water, savoring the coolness of the bottle between her palms. She didn’t want to anger him, but the question of genetic compatibility refused to remain silent. “Do Rodytes feel sexual allure?”
“We call it the pull, but I’m relatively sure it means the same thing.”
Good. There was a tiny sliver of hope. “Then you know conception is impossible unless we’re genetically compatible.”
His fingers tightened on her knee as his gaze bore into hers. “We’re compatible. We’re extremely compatible.”
“But how could you have known… How long have you been stalking me?”
His gaze narrowed and his grip on her knee released, though he didn’t move his hand. “I already answered that question.”
Silence lengthened and tension mounted as she debated how best to proceed. Escape wasn’t possible as long as they were in space. But were they in space? It didn’t matter! She wasn’t going to escape, not unless her dreams were wrong.
And her dreams were seldom wrong.
“Now it’s my turn to ask questions.” His tone took on a dark, caressing quality, but his gaze remained guarded.
If he had his heart set on a daughter, what would he do when she gave him a son? When she gave him a son? Could she really surrender before the battle had even begun?
Rather than explore the unsettling question, she said, “I thought you already knew everything about me.”
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Then, before she could answer, he went on. “I’m not complaining. I would much rather deal with a rational female, but how much did your dreams reveal?”
So he knew she had prophetic dreams. That wasn’t surprising. Her brother continually bragged about her clairvoyance. Knowledge of her other abilities, however, she’d ensured Simolta kept to himself.
When she didn’t reply, his hand resumed its climb. “Wait.” She caught his forearm again, but her hold didn’t even slow him down. “I knew you’d capture me, but I wasn’t sure when.” His fingers caught the top of her thigh-high stocking and slowly pulled it down along her leg. “The images had grown more vivid, so I suspected it would be soon.”
He tugged the stocking off then lingered over her foot and ankle as his fingers caressed bare skin for the first time. “Then you know I won’t hurt you. In fact, quite the opposite. I intend to bring you nothing but pleasure.”
Her hands were trembling so badly, she set the water bottle on the end table behind her. “I don’t want to be your war bride. I don’t want—”
“You’re already my war bride and we’ll figure out what you want together.” Without further warning, he dragged her down until her back rested on the seat of the couch. He shoved her skirts up and wedged his hips between her legs. She hit and kicked, but it did no good. He caught both her wrists in one large fist and simply ignored her flailing feet.
“Please, sir, I don’t want this. I’m not ready. I—”
He silenced her with his mouth. His lips brushed over and against hers, teasing and challenging her. She clenched her fists and kept her lips tightly sealed, refusing to surrender.
“Open, Skyla,” he whispered against her lips. “Let me taste your mouth.”
What he really wanted was for her to taste him. Sexual allure, or the pull as he’d called it, was triggered by the male’s taste. At least for the female. Most males could sense a compatible female by scent alone.
She jerked her face to the side and snapped, “Taun.” No was one of six Rodyte words she’d picked up over the years. She also knew yes, but the other four were profane. She’d use them shortly if he persisted with this bullying.
His elbows locked and he glared at her. “Did you just tell me no?”
The absolute disbelief in his tone confirmed her earlier suspicion. He was a man used to issuing orders and having them instantly obeyed. She dare not back down now that she’d challenged him or all would be lost. “I even said it in Rodyte so you’d be sure to understand.”
Rather than attack her physically, as she’d feared, he heaved himself off her and pulled her to her feet. She jerked her wrists free of his grasp and quickly put as much distance between them as the cabin allowed.
“I’ve tried to be patient with you,” he snapped, “to treat you with far more respect than war brides are generally afforded.”
The space between them made her even bolder. “Why bother with respect when your ‘bride’ is powerless to deny you?”
“Powerless?” he scoffed. “You have all the power. You’re in control. I cannot complete the joining until you allow me to enter your body.”
“Well, that will never happen, so this is an exercise in futility.”
“Never is a very long time.” A cunning gleam brightened his gaze and his smile was almost cruel. “Besides you haven’t heard the rules.”
“Rules? What rules?”
“Every competition has rules and you’ve just chosen to pit your will against mine.”
Dread washed over her in icy waves. He needed her alive and he claimed that he wouldn’t force her. As long as that was true, she could deal with anything else. Unless… “Will you allow others to take what I deny you?”
He crossed the room with a snarl and curled his long fingers around the back of her neck. His eyes blazed with blue fire. “You are mine and mine alone. No one will ever touch you but me.”
She was ridiculously relieved to hear it. “But only if I invite your touch?” He could lock her in a cell and beat her. Somehow she didn’t think that was what he had in mind.
“I never said I wouldn’t touch you.” Now his grin was pure carnality. “I said I wouldn’t consummate this joining until you allowed the final act. That’s the only promise you’ll get from me.”
Refusing to dwell on all of the other intimacies that included, she said, “Then tell me the rules.”
He backed her into the wall and caged her with his brawny arms. He was no longer touching her, but the pose was even more disturbing. He surrounded her, blocking out everything but him. “You will sleep in my arms each night, or you will sleep on the cold, hard floor.”
“Delightful.” Could she snuggle against his muscular warmth and not desire more than his embrace? It was easy to see where this was headed. He would use her loneliness and his physical appeal to manipulate her. She was already tempted, but he had no idea how stubborn she could be. “What else?”
“You will eat from my fingers and drink from my lips or you will go hungry and thirsty.”
“Yeah, that’s not harmful at all.” She glared up at him, determined to ignore the images triggered by his husky words. “So much for your vows.”
Without warning, he reached behind her and snapped the laces securing her dress. “What the…” She slapped at his hands and kicked at his shins, but he spun her around and quickly loosened the bodice of her gown. “Stop it!” She tried to hold the material in place, but he easily tugged it from beneath her hands. Then he effortlessly lifted her off her feet and kicked the gown aside. Within seconds she stood before him clad only in one thigh-high stocking and her lace-edged panties.
He rid her of the stocking, but allowed her to keep the panties before he turned her back around. She covered her breasts with her hands and kicked at her tormentor. Shouting her Rodyte cuss words only made him laugh. Finally, he grasped both her wrists and dragged her hands above her head. His gaze slowly swept down her body then just as slowly returned to her face. “Clothing is at my discretion, Skyla. The more you displease me, the less you’ll be allowed to wear.”
Chapter Two
Kryton stared into his captive’s bright blue eyes torn between lust and frustration. This was not how he’d planned their first encounter. He’d wanted to ease her fears and help her s
ee that he was no threat to her safety. In fact, he would lay down his life to protect her. He’d known she was spirited. That was one of the reasons he’d chosen her. Still, he hadn’t expected her to be quite so defiant.
Tears gathered behind her long lashes and she furiously blinked them back. She lifted her chin and arched her back, drawing his attention to her naked breasts. “I’m not ashamed of my body.” Why would she be? Her body was perfect, fit, yet softly curved in all the right places. “Look all you like. Just keep your filthy hands to yourself.”
“We already settled this.” With another wicked chuckle, he demonstrated her mistake. He shifted both her wrists into one hand, then caressed her with the other. He cupped one of her breasts, teasing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. “I won’t join with you unless you’re willing. But I’ll touch you whenever I like.” He leaned down and lightly brushed her lips with his. “I’ll kiss you.” Bending even lower, he caught one of her nipples between his lips and sucked with firm pressure. His tongue circled the beaded tip as his lips released. “And I will taste every millimeter of your flesh whenever the mood strikes me.”
“All those things are sexual.” She kept her head turned to the side, but her face was flushed and both her nipples peaked though he’d only touched one. “Forcing them on me is still rape.”
“Am I forcing you now?” His fingertips slid over her breasts, teasing her nerve endings with featherlight touches. “Tell me to stop, convince me you’re not enjoying my touch.”
She took a breath, likely intending to deny him. Before the words could pass her lips, he captured her other nipple with his fingers and gently squeezed. She moaned and closed her eyes, her shoulders beginning to shake.
“Requests always contain the words ‘please’ and ‘sir’.” He slid his lips along the side of her neck then explored the soft underside of her jaw. “If you want something, you have only to ask.”
She pressed against the wall, her hands tightly fisted. “Please, sir, stop arousing me.”
He raised his head and smiled, pleased by the small surrender. “What, specifically, is arousing you?” He pressed his hand against the underside of her breast, lifting the nipple toward his waiting mouth.
“All of it.” She gasped. “Please stop touching me and kissing me. Move back and let me breathe.”
He nipped her hard enough to make her gasp and she turned her head back around, glaring into his eyes. “You didn’t say, sir.”
Her jaw clenched and he thought she’d rebel, then she whispered, “Please, sir, let go of me.”
He moved both hands back to the wall and she quickly lowered her arms, once again covering herself with her hands. “Why do you deny me?” He was genuinely confused. “You’re so wet I can smell your arousal and yet you turn me away.”
“I’m your prisoner, your slave. The only thing I want from you is freedom.”
“You are my prisoner. I don’t deny it. But you are not my slave. You’re my war bride.”
She stilled, her gaze searching his. Her hair framed her face in dark waves, her crimson phitons just beginning to glow. “What’s the difference?”
“If you were my slave, I wouldn’t have stopped. Slaves are property. They have no rights, no authority.” He had never and would never own slaves, but she didn’t need to know that. The more formidable she found him, the sooner she’d surrender. “As my war bride, you’re in control. You will determine when our joining takes place and how long your captivity lasts.”
“‘When’ we join, not if.” She shook her head. “I’m your prisoner and I will never allow you to join with me as long as that’s the case.”
“You’re stubborn. I expected as much. But I’m a patient man.” He finally stepped back, but he didn’t move out of her way.
She motioned toward the gown with her chin. “Please, sir, may I put my dress back on?”
“No.” The extravagant gown represented everything he hated about the Bilarrian elite. “That dress offends me. I will, however, barter for one of my shirts.”
“Barter.” She closed her eyes for a moment, her frustration clear. “I have nothing with which to barter.” She opened her eyes and released a sigh.
“Really?” He made a sweeping motion from her shoulders to her knees. “You have everything you need and more.”
“What must I do to be allowed to wear one of your shirts?” Her tone was tight, her expression carefully guarded.
“Kiss me.”
Her eyes widened then narrowed and she looked around the room. Was she trying to locate the closet so she could just take the shirt? He fought back a smile. This wasn’t his cabin. Even if she managed to open the closet, there were no spare garments in this room.
Apparently deciding to cooperate, she pushed off the wall. She was careful to keep her breasts covered as she approached. “Fine. I’ll allow you to kiss me.”
“That wasn’t the deal.” He resisted the urge to pull the pins from her hair and bury both hands in the unbound mass. “I want you to kiss me.”
“Is everything going to be a negotiation?” She was definitely annoyed, but he also heard a hint of amusement in her tone. And still she wasn’t afraid.
“That’s entirely up to you.”
Rather than argue with him, she slowly lowered her arms. Her breasts were lovely. Not large, but nicely rounded, the tips a deep rose that begged for his lips. She only allowed his gaze for a moment then pressed against his chest and wound her arms around his neck, depriving him of the enticing view while offering him her warmth and softness.
He wrapped his arms around her and waited for her to begin. She pushed to the balls of her feet, but still couldn’t reach his mouth. With a warm chuckle, he slid her up along his body until her face was on a level with his.
“If I’d kissed you on the couch, would you have torn off my dress?”
He shook his head, pleased by her perceptiveness. “I would have given you a robe and allowed you to change in the utility room. I will be as demanding as you are difficult. The moment you surrender, I’ll shower you with affection and show you pleasure like you’ve never known before. Until then, we are adversaries.”
She started to say something then changed her mind. Instead, she pushed her fingers into his hair and drew his head forward, slowly closing her eyes. Her lips were soft and warm as they brushed against his. He reluctantly closed his eyes, drawing her image into his mind. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, but he was in no hurry to deepen the kiss. He moved his head to a better angle and savored the silken slide of her mouth.
Her legs parted and he guided them up and around his waist. Then his hands grasped her ass, firmly squeezing the soft curves. Gods how he wanted her beneath him, eagerly arching as he filled her core. He finally parted his lips and sucked her tongue into his mouth. She groaned at his sudden aggression, her thighs squeezing his sides. Desire rolled through him, urging him on, but he held himself back and concentrated on the kiss.
She tasted even better than he’d imagined. Their tongues curled and slid, tangling in a sensual dance that moved from his mouth to hers and back.
Suddenly she tore her mouth away, panting harshly as she unwound her legs and slid to the floor. “Was that adequate payment for the shirt?”
He’d been so lost in the kiss he’d forgotten about their barter. It wasn’t fair to be irritated when he set the rules for their game, but he’d hoped some part of her had simply enjoyed kissing him. “Yes. I’ll see to it now.”
Without a backward glance he snatched her gown off the floor, tucked her stockings into his pocket and left the cabin.
“Wait. Where are you—”
He didn’t stop to answer her, didn’t dare. If he saw her kiss-swollen lips and hardened nipples, his control would have snapped. He knew he could overwhelm her, convince her to surrender through sheer force of will, but that was not what he wanted from her. He wanted to tempt her, lure her beyond her misconceptions until she willingly offered herself to him
.
He rounded a corner and collided with Tonn. His lieutenant laughed and motioned to the ball gown. “Looks like you lost the best part of that outfit.”
“She’s locked in her cabin.” There were too many weapons and valuables for him to leave her alone in his cabin, so he’d decided to use one of the crew cabins until she became more agreeable. Besides, if she’d seen his luxurious suite, she’d have known he commanded the ship, might even have guessed that this wasn’t the only ship under his authority. He didn’t want her to respond to his position. He wanted her to respond to him.
Tonn picked up one of the severed cords dangling from the back of the gown. “Are things not going well?”
“Things are going as well as expected, but not as well as I’d hoped.” He had no intention of being more specific, even with his best friend.
“You can’t forget she’s Bilarrian elite. She’s not used to taking orders.”
“She’s irrationally stubborn,” Kryton grumbled.
“As are you, my friend. As are you.” Tonn shook his head then smiled, clearly enjoying Kryton’s confusion. “Don’t expect too much too soon. If you pressure her, she’ll feel obligated to resist.”
“When did you become an expert on Bilarrian females?” He resumed his trek toward his cabin and Tonn fell in step beside him. “Weren’t you headed the opposite direction?”
“And deprive you of my wise council?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t think of deserting you in your hour of need.”
“So enlighten me, oh sage oracle.” Sarcasm dripped off every syllable. “How do I win my reluctant bride?”
“Woo her. Talk to her. Put her at ease. Make sure she knows how much you want her, but wait until she comes to you. Give her just enough pleasure to leave her aching for more.”
The strategy wasn’t far from Kryton’s original plan, though the pace was much slower. He’d hoped to consummate their joining in the next few days. Just the thought of endless days, perhaps weeks, without her made him groan inwardly. “And if she never approaches me?”
“Then you’re not trying hard enough.”
War Bride (Battle Born Book 7) Page 3