embrace, with his arms crossed behind her back. She was thrilled by the shock. Telepaths were rarely shocked, which had made that afternoon all the more terrifying.
Some surprises weren’t terrifying until after the fact, when thought returned and she would regret enjoying his mouth on hers.
With more assurance, she took what he offered and made demands of her own. Tongue against roughly pebbled tongue. He nipped with his teeth—a reminder of the force contained within his lean fighter’s body. He was a beast in a man’s skin.
She shuddered and accepted how he pulled her more tightly against his chest. He was warm. She needed his warmth. She needed this strangely numbing balm of pleasure. The eager tension of passion overruled every other emotion. All she knew was that Tallis held her.
He angled his head to claim better access to her mouth, then trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down her neck. He licked one of the parallel cuts, then the other. The heat of his tongue was replaced almost instantly by the cold whip of the wind. She shivered beneath that hot cold, hot cold. Every movement, whether feathering or forceful, said he would take her if she lay down on the ground.
It would hurt.
It would be madness.
It would be marvelous.
She moaned, but she couldn’t believe the sound came from her throat. He matched her primal desire with a growl of his own. He cupped the back of her head and returned to her mouth. The press of his lips and the welcome invasion of his tongue felt like he’d come home to her.
She struggled. He wouldn’t let go. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed. He kissed her deeper. Panic replaced pleasure. She struggled, fought—
Then bit his tongue.
He reared back. “Dragon damn it, woman.”
“I thought your kind never forced anyone. Besides, you’re not the only one who can bite.”
He wiped his mouth and grinned. “So I’ve learned. Adding some variety to our real-life encounters?”
“We’re back to you being a Pendray in the throes of some delusion. We’ve never met before this afternoon.”
“Oh no,” he said, tightness replacing his brief humor. “Don’t play coy now, goddess.”
“I rather liked when you used my real name. At least then I was a person, not some figment of a lost mind.”
“
He stalked in a tight circle, then returned to face her. His skin was scented with blood. This man, for all his infuriating delusions, had saved her from Pashkah. That explained why she put up with his erratic moods and accusations. It couldn’t be because she hoped for more of what he’d done in the tent—binding her, tempting her. It couldn’t be because of moments like these, charged with expectation that balanced between ferocity and passion.
Moments that left her guessing.
She wanted all of it, but just a taste. She wanted it from a man who wouldn’t probe her thoughts while doing so, who couldn’t manipulate her while she took what she wanted from his body and he took what he wanted from hers.
She’d remained untouched for just that reason. Indranan men could not be trusted.
“Explain yourself,” she said. “Please. I might be able to alleviate whatever madness has led you to these extremes.”
“There’s nothing you could say that I’d believe.”
“Try me.”
Nothing passed between their minds. Kavya could only read the grim shadows that accentuated his straight nose, his tightly pursed lips, and the hollows of his eyes.
He bared his teeth before appearing to come to a decision. “You’re a manipulative seductress. For as long as I can remember, you’ve used dreams as a portal into my mind. You’ve directed my actions for decades, using every method possible—including visions of the Great Dragon so convincing that I’d swear I’ve looked our Creator in the eye. These kisses aren’t new to me, goddess. They’re as familiar as the pace of my feet on the ground. They’re a base attempt to divert me from the truth.”
Despite her confusion and the impulse to defend herself, Kavya refrained. “What truth is that?”
“You’re a liar and a user. Your plan for the future of our people is the worst sort of insult. Unite the Dragon Kings through selective murder? It’s a beautiful idea cloaked in blood. No more. I’m walking away. Everything between us ends tonight.”
With a voice barely strong enough to be heard, she cast a parting sentence toward his back as he walked away. “If I can reach you in dream, Tallis, why can’t I read your mind?”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Tallis slept a fitful night on his own. The wooded terrain provided little protection from the frigid wind. He used supplies from his pack to fashion a makeshift shelter, which was mostly additional layers of clothing. His tent was gone. His reason for setting up that tent in the first place . . .
He’d never see her again.
Unless he slept.
Nothing had ever scared him, except for the night when obeying the Sun’s first command meant leaving his family behind. He’d never see them again either. That was enough to strike hot jolts of fear into the bravest man. To be alone. No family. Not ever.
He wasn’t scared of falling asleep, but he never looked forward to it. Months would pass, until he began to think he was free. Maybe . . . finally. But she haunted him like a peripheral shadow. Some night, when Tallis nodded off—too exhausted to wonder if she’d really left him for good—she would appear. The Sun. Kavya. She had a real name, a real face, a real body that he’d touched and kissed.
A woman’s whose life he’d saved. A woman who’d wiped his face clean of blood.
Tallis reclined on his pack, propped against an evergreen, protected from the worst of the wind whipping down the mountain.
He’d walked away, just as he’d said he would. Now he would sleep alone in a forest that bordered the Beas River in the Valley of the Gods. Why did he feel dissatisfied, as if so much remained unresolved? Shouldn’t he experience some sense of closure? He hadn’t expected her to apologize, beg, justify, thank him—all in the span of twelve hours. In fact, he hadn’t imagined what she might do. She and the completion of his goal had been too nebulous. All he’d wanted was to find her. Discredit her somehow. And rid her from his dreams forever.
Huddling into himself for warmth, with the sherpa-lined leather coat buttoned to his neck, he searched through memories and half-remembered visions. Some were so blatantly erotic that recalling them twined with the teeth-grinding, unspent passion he’d unleashed while kissing Kavya. He shifted on the lichen-laced ground, shutting his eyes.
Her scent and her skin were indescribably soft, as was her touch when she’d cupped his bloodied cheeks. Those were real. Images of her naked body on display, her hair long and loose . . . Those were fake, planted by a seductress who’d led him along by his dick and his naivete for too long.
She blocked out every woman he’d known. None could compare to his fantasies.
Now, the fantasy couldn’t compare to the woman he’d kissed.
