Eliana's Warlord

by Jory Strong

  Twice he changed the angle of their lower bodies, her sharp cries as he pressed and rubbed her clit as much of a reward as the fisting of hot, slick muscles on his cock.

  He felt her climb toward release. He pushed her toward it. Demanded she go over with hard thrusts and the force of his will.

  She came. And nothing, including death, could have prevented him from doing the same.

  Searing ecstasy originated in his cock, an agony of pleasure that ripped through him and exploded in his head.

  He used the wall to hold them up. Had to take his mouth off Eliana's to regain his breath.

  And fuck, being with her was even better than he'd remembered.

  His hands moved from the base of her spine to her ass. His upper arms locked her thighs around his waist to prevent her from standing and ejecting his cock from the place it wanted to stay forever.

  Amusement crept in. It'd be hard as hell to hold his territory if his dick was always inside Eliana.

  He nuzzled her hair, inhaled and found traces of the soap he used. Contentment joined the amusement but both were banished with the touch of his mouth to the passion mark he'd left on her neck.

  She smelled like Josiah's soap. She tasted like Josiah's soap.

  "Did you bathe in front of him?"

  Eliana shivered. Despite the pleasure they'd shared, the promise of violence was still in Jax's voice.

  "No. His sister brought me the dress and then I bathed alone."

  "Did he kiss you?"

  "No."

  "Touch you?"

  "Not in the way you mean."

  His hands left her to brace against the wall on either side of her head along with his forearms.

  She hated to lose the intimacy of their physical joining but she forced her legs to unlock from around his waist.

  His cock slid free and the evidence of it having been inside her escaped as well, wetting her inner thighs.

  She took her arms from around his neck to better prepare for the inevitable confrontation, but her arms had become awkward appendages with no comfortable place to be.

  She crossed them over her chest, wondered if it was a defensive gesture, or an attempt to hold on to the rapidly dissipating heat and pleasure.

  Jax's eyes were all hard demand. "Who are you really running from, Eliana? And don't tell me your parents."

  She looked in the direction from which they'd entered the alley, heart and mind warring.

  Wanting to believe this was something more than lust for Jax didn't make it so. Wanting to trust him didn't make it a smart thing to do. The last time she'd trusted her heart, it'd been a mistake.

  She wasn't that same young girl. What she'd mistaken for strength and prowess back then was nothing more than the swagger of a youth who'd gained enough maturity and skill to be allowed to hunt bison with the tribe's men when they traveled to where the herds could be found.

  Jax wasn't Ansell. He'd proven himself a man that other men could trust with their lives.

  But she had even more to lose now than she had back then. Could she really count on his strength? On his desire for her? Could she really trust him not to turn her over to Stefan to gain something for his warren?

  Jax cupped her face and forced her gaze back to his. She couldn't tell him everything, not yet. She didn't trust her own judgment, not when it came to this, but she wanted him to understand.

  "They're not my real parents. Slavers turned me over to them."

  Jax's body went rigid. His expression turned brutal. "How old were you?"

  "Twelve."

  "And your younger brother?" he asked, remembering last night's conversation.

  "I left him unattended while we were gathering berries," she said, admitting her guilt, her pain. "I don't know if he made it back home. He wasn't handed off to the slavers."

  "Tell me where to find them and I'll hunt them down and kill them."

  "Even if they're not in your warren?"

  "Even if."

  She unfolded her arms and touched her palms to his chest. Beneath the shirt, beneath the inked message of no mercy, his heart pounded strong and sure. "Why?"

  "Because I hate slavers. When I was eleven I came home and found my brother and sister gone."

  "How old were they?"

  A muscle spasmed in his cheek. "Six. They were twins."

  Did you ever find them? The question was in her eyes, on her lips, but she remained silent, remembering the pain she'd read in him the night before.

  His thumb pressed against her mouth, enforcing that silence. "The first man I killed was a slaver. The second man was too. By the time I found who he handed my brother and sister off to, that man was already dead or he would have been the third man I killed."

  She stroked the spot above his heart. No mercy.

  She'd bet he hadn't stopped looking for his brother and sister. She'd bet he still waited for some word of them to reach him.

  Ache twinged through her for his loss, not just of his brother and sister, but that he'd been forced at such a young age to kill.

  "I'm sorry," she said against the thumb still touched to her mouth.

  "Why run from the people who raised you now?"

  "Because they were about to marry me off to someone I loathe."

  "You've been with me," he said, dark satisfaction in his voice at being the man she'd first given herself to.

  "It won't matter."

  Lie. It would matter, but only in how Stefan would treat her. "His wife died in childbirth. I look like her."

  She suspected they were related. Stefan's first wife had been raised in New Salt Lake, supposedly born into an elite family there. Maybe she had been, instead of having been stolen as an infant. But to look so much alike, at some point, there was a shared ancestor and a reason the procurers in New Salt Lake had known to search among the tribes.

  "I want his name, Eliana."

  If Jax wasn't caging her against the wall, she might have bolted from the danger inherent in trusting him. It would break something inside her if he turned her over to Stefan for a reward.

  "No. I won't give you his name." She needed a little more time, just to be sure she was willing to risk everything to be with Jax.

  Jax's thumb stroked her bottom lip. "One way or another, you're going to tell me."

  The sensual threat was back in his voice, making her shiver. How long would it take him to find out just who she was running from? How long would it take him to learn that he could double or triple or quadruple what he'd given Josiah to get her back?

  Chapter 10

  Jax pushed away from the wall.

  His hands went to the front of his jeans. Her eyes followed, and she was mesmerized by the sight of him handling his penis, grasping and tucking it into his pants before doing up the zipper.

  His every movement radiated confidence and power, the primal rawness that came from not only surviving in the warrens, but rising to take control of one of them.

  Eliana rubbed her palms over the material covering her thighs. She was grateful the dress fell to mid-calf, but it was probably obvious to anyone looking at her that she'd given herself to him. But then, they wouldn't expect anything less, not when it came to the warlord.

  Her heart twinged but she refused to think of the women who'd come before her. She lifted her gaze and found him watching her, the hard, hot look in his eyes telling her he'd use any weakness he found to get the name he was after.

  He captured her wrist and pulled her forward, lowered his head so his mouth was only inches above hers. He grasped the hair at the back of her head. "We're going back to the house. It'd be a mistake to bolt, Eliana."

  I don't want to get away. I want to get closer, only closer.

  He dipped his head.

  Her lips parted in anticipation of his kiss.

  The slightest touch of his mouth to hers and he pulled away.

  A tiny sound of protest escaped before she could prevent it.

  Wickedly confident lips cur
ved upward at having demonstrated how easily he could find her weaknesses.

  She'd only become more vulnerable when they returned to his bedroom. It was too easy to imagine him using tethers, rather than his hands, to hold her immobile. Too easy to imagine him turning her into a writhing mess of want, someone willing to do and say anything if he'd only finish what he'd started. And then what?

  "Name the warlord on my other border," he said, voice a husky demand.

  "Elias."

  "And the one next to him?"

  "Diego."

  "And next to him?"

  She hadn't been able to learn it before escaping the city and hadn't heard it during the time she'd been in that territory, laying a false trail.

  "I don't know."

  "What part of the city do you live in?"

  She froze.

  Jax collared her throat and her nipples instantly beaded. "You came through the gate in Diego's territory."

  He freed her wrist, cupped his hand over her breast and leaned in. "Admit it, Eliana."

  The truth whispered out of her. "Yes."

  "Tell me his name."

  "It's not important."

  "Liar."

  The word was darkly sensual. The hand collaring her neck tightened. The one on her breast did the same, adding an element of pain to the pleasure she derived from his touch.

  "I warned you about lying to me."

  A tremor of erotic fear went through her and satisfaction heated his eyes. He brushed his mouth across hers, a silent promise that she'd soon be begging to tell him what he wanted to know.

  He released her. "Let's go," he said, indicating the end of the alleyway opposite the one they'd entered from.

  She gathered her dropped clothing and walked at his left side, though he didn't shackle her wrist or upper arm.

  They stepped from the alleyway.

  She was grabbed from the left and jerked toward a man wielding a knife.

  Adrenaline dumped into Eliana's system. She twisted, tried to pull away.

  Fingers dug into her wrist.

  She kicked straight at her assailant's knee.

  The bottom of her foot struck with enough force that she felt his leg fold in an unnatural direction.

  The man screamed and released her. Slashed with the knife, but she'd already stumbled backward.

  He came after her but the leg she'd kicked gave and he crumpled to the ground.

  She kicked his face as he fell.

  He dropped the knife. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth.

  She kicked again.

  He grabbed her ankle, jerked.

  She cried out, landed on her back and saw Jax slide a knife across the throat of the scavenger wearing the baggy gray clothing that she'd noticed earlier.

  A violent wrenching of her leg snapped her attention to the man she'd downed.

  He'd risen onto a knee. Recovered the knife.

  His eyes widened, the whites flashed.

  A hole appeared in his forehead.

  For a heartbeat she didn't understand.

  And then she did.

  He toppled onto her, stunning her an instant before she pushed and kicked and wriggled out from beneath his dead weight.

  She scrambled to her feet.

  Jax's hand locked around her upper arm as if to prevent her bolting away from him, away from the violence.

  She trembled, but stood firm.

  There'd been a third man. His moans made her aware of him.

  He lay on his side, curled in on himself, the hands clutching his stomach slick with blood and glistening fluid.

  Seeing the carnage brought the smell of feces.

  She swallowed against vomiting. He wasn't dead, but he would be. Even if a doctor were present, a man with that kind of wound wouldn't survive.

  Jax forced her closer to the dying man.

  "Shoot me," the man said, looking at Jax, tears streaming from his eyes.

  "Who sent you?"

  "Nobody."

  Jax started to turn them away.

  The man sobbed. "We were after her."

  "Who wants her?"

  "Don't know. My buddy said there was a huge reward. Said he'd split it with us."

  "Whose territory do you belong in?"

  "Nobody's. Drifter. Always drifted."

  His face contorted. "End it," he begged.

  "And your companions? Drifters?"

  "Never said different." His body convulsed. A ragged moan spilled from his mouth as more blood and dark fluid spilled from between his fingers.

  Jax's gun hand lifted from where it lay along his thigh.

  Eliana turned her face.

  "No," Jax said, his tone hard, merciless steel.

  Iron fingers gripped her hair and forced her attention back to the man he'd gutted.

  He fired the gun.

  The sound of it echoed through the warren for a second time.

  And for a second time, a bullet smashed into a man's skull.

  The man relaxed in death.

  Intestines slid from beneath his hands. The smell of bowels intensified.

  Jax allowed her to turn her face away from the sight.

  She trembled harder, in reaction to the violence, the deaths. She hugged herself and Jax's arm came around her, pulling her back against his front and creating a shield around her.

  This was life in the warrens, the violence that could erupt at any moment. And Jax, the epitome of that ruthless savagery.

  His mouth touched her ear. "You owe me answers."

  She nodded, acknowledging it.

  Pounding footsteps had Jax's gun hand swinging upward with smooth, deadly confidence.

  Rand rounded a corner, followed by Leon.

  Jax lowered the gun then holstered it at the middle of his back. Waited until his men had reached the first body to say, "Search them."

  Eliana became aware of the wet, warm material clinging to her back.

  Her breath caught. Her heart leapt and sped, carrying fear into her voice. "Jax?"

  She pulled from his arms and turned to face him, her eyes finding the place near his heart where a knife had slashed through shirt material and skin.

  "You're hurt!"

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leon's head jerk upward, his hands still in their search of the man who'd grabbed her.

  She gripped Jax's shirt and slowly eased it up to reveal the still-bleeding wound.

  Her eyes watered. This was because of her.

  She blinked away tears and pushed the shirt upward. He helped her get it off him.

  Blood painted his skin on its way to the waistband of his jeans.

  He stood patiently as she hurried to create a compress from his shirt. He was completely stoic when she pressed the folded shirt to the wound with shaky hands.

  Jax's hand cupped her cheek. His thumb touched the corner of her eye and caught a tear.

  Rand moved to the man in the baggy gray clothing she'd seen when they crossed from Josiah's territory to Jax's.

  Jax's thumb moved to her mouth, wetting it with the salty taste of tears.

  He tilted her head upward so their eyes met. "It'll take more than this to kill me."

  "Got something," Rand said.

  Jax's hand left her face. He took over the task of holding the shirt to the wound.

  With his free hand, he caught hers, guiding her to where Rand stood, a piece of paper in his hand.

  Her own face stared back at her.

  It was an unsigned pencil drawing, but she recognized the artist who'd done it by the fineness of his strokes and the texture of the lighting.

  It was clever of Stefan to circulate a sketch instead of a photograph. Someone living in the warrens might have commissioned a drawing like this one, but she doubted they would have had access to a camera.

  It was the elite in the walled cities who had the means to try and recreate the technology that existed before the Final War by reverse engineering or substituting crude parts for tho
se identified in instruction manuals or the books that had somehow survived.

  Leon joined them, grunted and said, "Wonder how many of those are circulating."

  Her heartbeat stuttered and her throat tightened. Too many. Way too many.

  "Time to get back to the house," Jax said. "You recover the shell casings?"

  Rand nodded. "You know who's behind the reward?"

  "Not yet."

  Rand looked at her with the hardened eyes of a man assessing a threat.

  She suppressed a shiver at the promise of death if something happened to Jax because of her.

  "I need to collect my things," she said.

  Jax released her and she gathered the clothes that'd scattered when she was grabbed.

  In silence they returned to the front gate.

  Rand punched in the code. Jax glanced at Leon. "Tell Butch you need some of his workers for a burial detail. Then see it done."

  Leon grimaced. "On it."

  They passed through courtyard and yard. When they entered the house, Rand said, "I'll get the supplies. You going up to your room?"

  Jax's hand collared the back of her neck in a sensual threat. "I'll get patched up first."

  Rand nodded and led the way to a room on the left side of the main hallway. He unlocked the door then pushed it open, going in first.

  Large, high windows allowed light to pour in to what was obviously a treatment room. A low, metal folding table was set up in the center of the room. Four tables just like it were stacked and leaning against a wall.

  Rand began pulling supplies from cabinets at the back and placing them on a counter. Jax sat on the table, spread his thighs and used the hand collaring her neck to pull her forward so she stood between his legs.

  Instinctively her hand covered his where it pressed the shirt to the knife wound. His pupils dilated. His gaze dropped to her mouth, to her hand on his then returned to her face.

  "His name, Eliana."

  "Stefan."

  "Stefan who?"

  She shook her head. Not now.

  Jax pressed his thumb to the pulse high in her throat. Heated eyes dared her to lie. "He's someone important?"

  Her heart sped.

  She dared the lie. "No."

  Jax smiled. He leaned forward, sensual menace in his voice. "Really?"