Warlord

by Angela Knight

  “Exactly. Anyway, it wasn’t long before they started having trouble with a neighboring planet. Colonists there wanted Vardon’s mineral reserves. The Vardoneese fought them off, but just barely. After it was over, they decided they needed a race of warriors to fall back on if they ever had a similar problem, so they created the Warlords. Stronger, faster, nastier than damn near anything human, and a lot of things that aren’t.”

  She nodded. “Sounds like Baird, all right.”

  “Uh-huh. Thing is, turns out their perfect soldier came with a sex drive that was that much more powerful than an ordinary human’s.”

  Lyonet’s eyes lit wickedly. “This is sounding better and better all the time.”

  “Not to the Vardoneese. They’d been systematically eliminating their own sex drives, so the sudden presence of all these amorous males disconcerted them, to say the least. Plus, the men were so damn strong, sleeping with one could be hazardous to your health. They tried eliminating the sex drive, but what they got was even nastier—a warrior who was cold and vicious and basically uncontrollable. So they decided to go with the oversexed version, while adding loyalty and a highly affectionate nature. Then, to give their supersoldier something to sleep with, they created the Fem—female versions of the Warlords.”

  I saw her jaw drop. “That tattoo on your face—you’re one of them. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were gene-gineered?”

  “Because I’m not, technically. My parents were. Dad was a Warlord, Mother was a Fem. I just inherited their genetic characteristics.”

  “The strength and speed.”

  “Right. Anyway, about thirty years ago, the Vardoneese went through one of their periodic political convulsions. They decided the Warriors—that’s us—were responsible for the wars they kept getting themselves in. If we didn’t exist, they wouldn’t be so quick to rely on violent solutions.”

  “Oh, bullshit,” said Lyonet. “They’d just end up hiring merc units like everybody else.”

  “Probably, but they didn’t see it that way. They deported the lot of us. Every last Warlord and Fem, to the far corners of the galaxy. They were afraid if they put us in one place, we’d come back and conquer them.”

  “Paranoid bunch of bitches.”

  “Got it in one. So anyway, Baird was raised on one of those colonies. But everybody in the colony had come from the same basic root stock. They didn’t have enough genetic variation to sustain the population. The colonists decided to send their unbonded Warlords and Fems out to look for Warriors they could bring home as mates.”

  “And Baird found you.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “And he wants to make it permanent.”

  “Yep.”

  She leaned forward and glared into my eyes. “So what the hell’s the problem?”

  I clenched my fingers hard around the knight. “I don’t want to become his slave.”

  Lyonet blinked, startled. “Come again?”

  “The Warlords are very…dominant in bed. And Fems…we’re designed to give them what they want. To submit.”

  She leaned back in her chair and lifted an eyebrow. “I have trouble imagining you as submissive.”

  “We’re not. Ordinarily. In combat, we’re designed to function as backup. Not as strong, but better at some things Warlords can’t do because of their sheer size. Agility, speed, getting into tight places. We’re cool and controlled when they’re in riatt—the berserker frenzy Baird used to beat Jogox. We keep them from getting carried away and making mistakes.”

  “Sounds like equals more than master and slave.”

  “And equals are exactly what we are—outside the bedroom. Inside…”

  “He wants to tie you up and screw your brains out. So? I don’t see why you’d find a few sex games intimidating.”

  I shook my head. “What if it’s more than games, Lyonet? I’ve never actually known any Warlords other than Baird, and I’m not sure what I’d be getting into. My father died when I was young, so I never really knew him.” I swallowed and looked down at the knight, finding I could not quite meet Lyonet’s perceptive green gaze. “My sister bonded with a Warlord she met off-planet when I was fifteen or so. She brought him to our home on Fairworld, but they stayed only a short time before they left for his colony.”

  Her eyes sharpened, and I knew she’d read the discomfort on my face. “Something happened during that visit, didn’t it?”

  I glanced up, then away. “I saw them together. One night. I heard her cry out in pain, and I went to help. They were out in the garden. She was tied, and he was…” I stopped and swallowed. “God, he was beautiful, but the look on his face was so feral. And my sister—she was in pain, and yet she loved it. I didn’t interfere, but I didn’t leave, either. I just stood there in the shadows, frozen. Watching.”

  “Yeah, I can see how something like that would spin out a fifteen-year-old virgin.” Lyonet’s expression was compassionate. “But just because your brother-in-law played rough, that doesn’t mean Baird would.”

  “But that’s how Warlords are, Lyonet. Erotic dominance is part of their nature. I researched it on our house comp, and I talked to my mother about it. She said I would understand once I was bonded.”

  Lyonet’s eyes widened. “And that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  I nodded. “What I saw in that garden scared the hell out of me. But part of me was…excited. I don’t want to lose myself that way, Lyonet. I’m a soldier. I don’t want to be mastered by some genetic imperative a bunch of techies programmed into my ancestors.”

  She shook her head. “Damn, girl. I see your point. But here’s another thing you need to keep in mind.” Leaning forward, she met my eyes. “Baby, you’re not fifteen anymore. And I think it’s time you find out just what your nature is. Because it sure as shit isn’t going away.”

  I knew Lyonet was right, of course. I just wasn’t sure I had the guts to explore that particular dark corner of my psyche.

  For one thing, I’d have to go to Baird to do it, and I wasn’t sure he’d let me go.

  Another month went by as Baird continued to court me—with more restraint than a civ male would have shown, to tell the truth. We played chess and talked, me of my life as a mercenary, him of his as a Warlord. But no matter how carefully he hid it, I could sense his hunger, humming just under the surface like thousands of volts of electricity flowing through a power cable. When he’d touch me, I could almost feel the snap of it.

  At such times, the part of me that feared him would babble a warning. I was testing his control to the breaking point, and I knew it. Yet I found I didn’t want to back off. He was so damn charming, so intelligent, so rock-bottom decent that I couldn’t bear to walk away.

  And he wasn’t the only one who hungered.

  So often, some casual movement of that big body would send my desire leaping—the flex of a muscle, the curve of his chest, the hot, dark glitter of gold striations in his eyes.

  What I didn’t realize was that Baird knew it. And like the skilled warrior he was, one day he took advantage of my weakness.

  He asked me to fight.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve practiced with another warrior,” he told me over lunch one day. “I’m afraid my dueling skills are getting rusty. The first time somebody challenges me to a formal duel, I’m going to get minced.”

  “I don’t know how much competition I’d be,” I told him, ignoring the flare of heat that rose low in my belly. “I haven’t practiced with a sword and dagger since I left home. Mercs don’t duel—it’s either fists or straight to homicide.”

  As I watched, the gold striations in his eyes brightened. “Oh, I’m sure any contest with you would be well worth my time.”

  I knew what he was up to, of course. I suppose that’s why I agreed. The part of me that hungered for him wanted to overcome the part of me that feared him.

  He wasn’t the only one who wanted an excuse to lose control.

  We reserved one
of the small practice courts during the late watch. When I arrived, he was positioning a padded exercise mat on the floor for us to fight on. I didn’t comment, though our people have never been concerned with falls during practice. If you’re so clumsy as to get hurt hitting the ground, you probably deserve it.

  I knew Baird wasn’t concerned about falls.

  He rose from his task as I sauntered in. As he turned to look at me, his eyes widened. So did mine.

  I wore a tight black breastband that left my arms and belly bare and revealed a great deal of cleavage. A pair of skintight black huggers cupped my ass and hips, ending at midthigh.

  He’d also dressed to tempt in the male equivalent—his own pair of huggers and nothing else, so that his beautiful chest was bare. His eyes were shot with gold striations of hunger like a night sky cut with lightning bolts. He’d left that long, silken hair loose to tumble around his broad shoulders.

  Baird, no fool, knew what my weaknesses were.

  But neither of us commented on the other’s dress—that would have been an admission that we knew what we were really there for. Instead his eyes flicked to the blunted practice sword and dagger I held in either hand as he gathered up his own from a case on the floor. “Nice weapons.”

  “Not as nice as yours. May I see?”

  He moved over beside me. I was instantly aware of the heat of his body as he handed me his sword and took my own. I made a quick pass through the air with the blade, feeling the precise balance that made it seem almost weightless. “Beautiful.” I held it at full extension. “It’s a little long for me, though.”

  I looked up to see him staring hungrily at my cleavage. “I think you can manage,” he murmured.

  “I’ll stick with my own for now.” I hid a smile, feeling my excitement leap as I returned the sword. “Shall we begin?”

  Baird smiled slowly. “Oh, yeah. I’m more than ready.”

  My heart pounding hard, I turned and moved to the other side of the mat as he fell into guard on his side. Lifting my weapons, I stared into his gold-shot eyes and waited for the signal to begin.

  “Begin,” he murmured, and we did, stalking each other slowly, watching eyes and hands. Baird wore a hot and wicked smile, but his eyes glittered with fierce determination. Two months before, I would have viewed his intentions with misgivings, but now my nipples peaked at the thought of what he wanted to do to me. I realized at some point I had begun to trust him. Anything he did when we made love would be something we both enjoyed.

  He tested me with a flick of his blade. I parried neatly and riposted, driving in my own attack, which he scooped aside with his dagger. At the same time, his blunted rapier tested my defenses again, and again I parried it with my own dagger. We disengaged and danced apart again.

  And so we toyed with each other. With his greater strength, he could have pounded my weapons aside and scored off me easily, but he fenced on my terms—his speed, agility, and skill against mine in a lovely dance of steel.

  I found myself half-hypnotized by him, by the grace and quickness of his big body, by the flex and play of muscle as he moved. And I could feel his eyes on me, on my breasts and legs, lingering between my thighs as I lunged or retreated. The mood of sensuality growing between us intensified until I felt my breath come shorter, not with exertion, but with desire.

  Suddenly the blunted tip of his blade flicked out and raked gently across one of my pointed rock-hard nipples. I gasped at the wave of heat that zinged through me at the contact.

  Baird’s gold-striated gaze met mine. “A touch,” he purred.

  I nodded, acknowledging the point as a hot blush of raw lust rolled up my face.

  I attacked in a long, hard lunge that shot my body forward. Baird knocked my sword aside with his rapier, but at the same time his dagger dipped. The rounded blade stroked right between the lips of my sex in a bold, erotic caress I could feel even through the tight fabric of my huggers.

  Stunned, I let my body collide with his. For a moment we were chest to chest, his hot, damp skin pressing against my breasts. Eyes widening, I stared incredulously at his face. He gave me a taunting grin.

  “Point to me,” he said, his breath puffing gently against my face, smelling ever so slightly of brandy and mint.

  I leaped back. He laughed softly.

  Lazily, he began to circle me, moving not in a swordsman’s crouch, but with shoulders back, his magnificent chest on display in all its heaving, sweat-streaked glory. Letting my gaze dip, I saw he had a massive erection.

  “You may not know this,” Baird said, his voice a dark rumble, “but back on Vardon these were called mating duels. Fems and Warlords would meet to test each other. If the Fem won, she’d usually seek another opponent. But if the Warlord won…” He grinned. “He didn’t let her go for a very long time. Often she’d end up with her circle filled.”

  I remembered the touch of his fingertip on my tattoo a month before, filling the half circle with his blood.

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” he said softly.

  My mouth went dry, but I made myself give him a taunting smile. “Only if you win.”

  “Oh,” he drawled, his eyes darkening, “I will.”

  If Baird’s arrogance was meant to tease me into a reckless attack, it worked—but not the way he intended. I launched another lunge in a burst of blurring speed. He retreated, flicking my sword aside with a bat of his rapier as he sought to parry my dagger with his own.

  His eyes widened. I knew he’d felt the delicate, teasing stroke of my blunted knife’s point along the steel-hard length of his erection. I smirked at him. “I think you missed that parry, Baird.”

  “So I gather,” he said, sounding a little breathless.

  In that moment, the contest changed. Suddenly we were no longer competing to hit one another, but to inflict teasing little touches. Our eyes met as we clashed, hot as the grins on our faces. My nipples were as hard as his erection, and I could feel the electric trickle of cream in my sex.

  Suddenly he straightened again, dropping both his weapons out and to either side so he stood with his arms spread, the thick bulge of his cock an irresistible target. His gold-shot eyes dared me as one corner of his sensuous mouth kicked up.

  I darted forward, wanting only to touch that brazen masculinity with my blades. In a move almost too fast to follow, he swept his weapons around and up, entangling mine. He rotated those strong wrists of his, and the skillful leverage he brought to bear sent my rapier and dagger spinning from my hands in opposite directions. At the same time, his pull brought me stumbling against his massive chest. He dropped his blades and grabbed my forearms as he hooked the back of my ankle with a foot and pivoted to one side.

  With a yelp, I hit the thick, padded mat on my belly—and was suddenly covered in his powerful body as he gently twisted both arms behind my back, then trapped them there. “At this point,” he said, his voice a seductive croon in my ear as his hard cock pressed against my bottom, “I think it’s safe to say this fight is over.”

  Slowly, deliberately, Baird rolled his hips. I bit back a moan at the sensation of that rock-hard erection grinding against my sex.

  He transferred both my wrists into the grip of one hand and kept them pressed to the small of my back. Wary, excited, I turned my head and watched as he delved into his pocket with his free hand. When I saw what he pulled out, I swallowed. Hard.

  It was a length of cuffcable, padded so it wouldn’t cut the skin. He meant to bind me.

  He wrapped the strong, flexible cable around my wrists in a figure-eight pattern, then lifted himself. Bracing one booted foot beside my hips while kneeling across me, Baird flipped me over on my back. I stared up at his handsome face, stark and predatory with hunger, and felt my knees part of their own accord.

  His big hands went to my breastband and pulled it up with one rough jerk, baring my tits. His eyes blazed at the sight, but he wasn’t done. Next he slid off me and grabbed the tight fabric of my huggers, then stripped them
down my legs with a single, ruthless yank. Tossing them across the room, he rocked back on his heels, taking in my bound, naked body with eyes so striated with gold they seemed molten.

  He raked the length of me with his gaze, thoroughly, possessively. A dark smile kicked one corner of his mouth. “By Our Lady, I’ve dreamed of this moment since the instant I looked across that bar and met your eyes. You’ve led me on such a dance, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have you.”

  When he looked into my face again, his eyes were narrow and hard, and his mouth took on a cruel, determined slant. “You’re going to pay the price for tormenting me, Kyna.”

  Oh, I certainly hoped so.

  His big hands closed over my breasts, stroking, fondling, taking possession of them. Calloused thumbs stroked my hard nipples as he caressed the soft skin. The sensation made my breath catch in the back of my throat. I closed my eyes.

  Only to snap them wide again as something hot and wet closed over one nipple as he twisted the other with delicate brutality. Gently, he licked and nibbled, his tongue, his lips, his teeth sending heat rolling through me in thick, honeyed waves. At the same time, his long fingers tormented the other pink tip, twisting and pulling and stroking until I writhed.

  He came down over me completely, his body resting across my thighs, trapping and immobilizing me even more while he tormented my aching breasts. Feeling him pressing thick against the notch of my thighs, I whimpered in lust.

  “Baird,” I gasped, my pride melting in the heat he generated. “God, please, take me!”

  “Not yet,” he said, lifting his head from my breasts, his eyes dark and determined. “You haven’t even started to pay.”

  Then he slid down my body and buried his face between my thighs. I sucked in a hard breath at the sensation of his mouth pressing against my most sensitive, desperate flesh. “Take all the revenge you want,” I gasped.

  He lifted his head, his eyes glinting up at me from over my cunt. “Oh, I will.”

  Then he began to lick, slowly, thoroughly, tasting my desperately creaming sex, licking the labia he spread wide with two fingers, circling my clit, thrusting his tongue deep up my snatch. I rolled my head against the mat and whined in mindless pleasure, loving it, loving everything he was doing to me, feeling my orgasm building, building. The pleasure grew with every hot pass of his tongue, heat and pressure building until I rolled my hips desperately against his face, grinding, striving for the peak that was so close, so close….