The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

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.”

Oookay. He’d issued the accusation as if it were a treasonous offense, leaving her sputtering for an insult. Wait. Why was she feeling defensive about this? Obviously, he liked the freckles.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She glided to her feet and traced a claw along each of his shoulders. “Are freckles your other fetish?”

“I have no fetishes,” he said, letting her touch him without complaint.

“Mmm-hmm. Freckles and submission. Yours, in case that wasn’t clear.” She melted into him. “In bed, you crave a woman unafraid to demand what she wants. You want to be dominated.”

His entire body jerked, but he didn’t deny it. “We won’t be discussing fetishes.” He latched on to her waist and flashed her to the meteorite, where he released her and gathered his tools. “Unless you’d like to dissect yours?”

“I don’t have a fetish,” she told him, confident.

“So you don’t get wet every time you win a challenge?”

“I...” Did she? “What can I say? I like power.”

No response. A familiar clink, clink, clink rang out, his body evincing nothing but calm.

That calm...stung. “Go ahead. Pretend to ignore me.” Taliyah worked her way to the top of the murder stone and stretched out. In an hour, she would sport countless freckles. He’d pay so bad then.

Who are you? Her weapon of choice had never been beauty marks.

As she relaxed, though, she realized she’d made a mistake, stretching out as she’d done yesterday. The rhythmic sounds of his chisel nearly lured her to sleep.

Will not succumb. No way a man who hated her origins, refused to trust her and wouldn’t commit to searching for a way to save her life was her consort.

As much as she enjoyed teasing and fighting Roc, she acknowledged that he wasn’t her friend. He’d pinned her wings, stealing her strength, and stifled her ability to mist, leaving her vulnerable to attack. And attacks were coming. If old phantoms breached the palace, new phantoms would breach the palace. What would she do if one attacked?

“Be honest, Roc. You bored your other brides to death. You did, didn’t you?”

“You’ve seen how the others died.”

Yes, she certainly had. But did he really have to remain so calm while they discussed matters of life and death?

After a few minutes of silence, she groused, “I’m giving you such an amazing view, I should charge by the hour.”

“By that logic, I should charge by the inch,” he muttered, never glancing up.

Oh, no he didn’t. A small little laugh escaped her. She did like his sense of humor.

His gaze flipped up, landing on her. As he searched her face, his calm veneer stripped away, the truth suddenly clear. He wasn’t calm. Not by a long shot. A seething animal lurked beneath the surface of his skin, scheming violent ways to escape.

He looked fierce and furious, guilty and regretful. He looked...hungry.

Her smile fell, her heart skipping a beat. Another truth revealed itself. I’m not seducing him. He’s seducing me.

26

Day five of Roc’s new marriage dawned just like the fourth: with the indomitable Taliyah curled against him after neither one of them had slept. All night, fatigue and frustration had pursued him like hellhounds who’d finally sniffed prey. Furious, frothing desire had become his constant companion.

Holding the sensual beauty without pleasuring her proved an unmitigated torture and a true test of his strength. A test he’d passed—just barely. Would he pass again today?

He must. How could he take pleasure from her, then lock her in the metal she despised immediately afterward? How could he take pleasure from her, then toil over her death altar? He was despicable, but he wouldn’t cross that line...not again. Not until she required sustenance from him. When she needed, he would give.

Never mind that she breathed, and he grew aroused. Never mind that she challenged and amused him at every turn.

He rubbed his tired eyes. Twice she’d mentioned saving herself and his men, compounding a sense of guilt he couldn’t shake. He hadn’t lied to her. The Astra had studied and researched and lived the situation countless times. There was no way out.

He wished he could offer her hope.

As soon as the sun filtered through the curtains, he pretended to sleep, just as before. How would Taliyah react to waking in his arms a second time?

The harpy gently wiggled around, doing her best not to jostle him. Clearly, she intended to study the regrown alevala at her leisure.

He would never let her see it.

He maneuvered her over his chest, pinning her against him. “Do you need to feed?” How eager he sounded. The desire was so new. So unexpected. Shameful? He didn’t know anymore. To cede a piece of his soul, strengthening an enemy while weakening himself... Only a fool would do such a thing.

But he still wanted to do it. Roc yearned to nourish her. He alone would keep her sated. In every way.

“Why?” she asked. “Do you want to feed me?” She undulated against him, getting more comfortable