Caged Warrior

“Of course you can’t.” She lifted his head and held his gaze. “That doesn’t mean I want to be alone forever.”

“I never thought I’d be anything but alone.”

“What about your family?”

“I’ve fought for their safety, but I can’t speak to them. Sometimes they exist more as goals than people. There are moments I regret that I wasn’t born one of the Dragon-damned Heartless. At least Indranan warriors can communicate with those outside.”

“No.” She kissed him so tenderly that it might have been a daydream, but her hand was still at the juncture of his thigh and groin. Nynn was no daydream. “You are Leto of Garnis,” she said against his mouth. “You are a Dragon King. And if you let me, I could love you.”

He bracketed her head in his hands. “Could?”

Her expression took on a teasing glint—a glimmer of silver to lead them out of the black. “You have to admit, we haven’t been on the same side very often.”

“It felt right when we were.”

“Yes. It did. And it does now.” She arched into his touch when he threaded hard, possessive fingers into her hair. “I asked for you, remember? I want to be here with you. To be on the same side and know it’s forever.”

“We can’t promise forever. Not down here.”

“Then we get out of here.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.”

“I wouldn’t do it with the stupid, impatient trust I gave Kilgore. Instead, you’re my warrior, and I light up like Dragon-damned fireworks.” She grinned, slid her warm palms to his shoulders, and gave him a good shake. “Then you could love me, too.”

Could?

There was no “could” about it.

He loved her. Nynn of Tigony was a firework, so bright and beautiful in a place that had never known either. He needed that light, craved it. More meaningfully, he was grateful that she’d shared it with him. He’d taken to heart that he would keep her safe because his heart was at risk. To lose her now would mean losing a part of himself he hadn’t known existed, liberated of everyone else’s wishes but his. And hers.

“When we’re free,” he said with his lips against her bare shoulder. “That’s my promise.”

“Now you get to promise that you won’t stop again.”

She stretched back against the mattress, with her knees negligently parted. The pink wetness of her sex made him want to taste. He dipped low and licked. Nynn’s hands flew to the back of his head. Another new sound. Greed. A combination of yes and a groan and a curse word older than the Five Clans. She was salt and sweet, hot and pulsing against his tongue. Each questing swirl revived his arousal. The past was the past—painful, and not without a demand to be avenged.

At that moment, however, Leto was finally able to set his mind aside and let his body loose. Reflex. Instinct. Selfish need. Every satisfying lick made Nynn writhe. Her hands stroked faster along the back of his head. Dragon be, she could drive him mad with her enthusiasm. They had matched from the beginning, not in goals, but in resolve and pure stubbornness. He put that stubbornness to its most sensual use, flicking faster, sucking deeper. His prick swelled in response. He was so ready.

This was a claiming, and it was mutual.

“Leto! Please, here with me. Not by myself.”

The breath punched out of him. Without thought, he was over her, kissing her, inside her. The slow softness they’d given each other was still there, in the way they caressed and in the encouraging sounds of pleasure. Little gifts. But Leto could not be gentle, pushing, pulsing with that word repeating in his mind. Claim.

“I’m here,” he said on a gasp. With his head tucked next to hers on the pillow, he drove with gathering speed. Each stroke was stronger. Her tight legs and quick hips met him each time. “We do this together.”

Previous orgasms had all been explosions, full and potent and as hard as he’d fucked. This time, with Nynn stretched beneath him and her breath breaking to pieces, he felt his climax building and building. It could’ve been seconds. It could’ve been years.

“Nynn, tell me. Tell me you’re close.”

She had no words, only the fierce arch of her spine and a mangled cry. The clench of her sheath around his cock broke through the gradual build of his pleasure—broke through, then dragged him into an abyss that seized his muscles and locked his bones. His last thrust was as deep as she could take, and she took all of him. Every thick, aching inch. He growled his satisfaction into the pillow, where Nynn had already turned her head, kissing his temple. She licked away the sheen of sweat.

When his breathing quieted, he rolled off and around so that she tucked along his side. “Again,” he said into the near-dark. “I want that again.”

“Tell your prick.” Her voice was sleepy, but he heard a smile.

He kissed her hair, grinning in return. He was grinning. “Dragon Kings have remarkable powers of recovery.”

“Yes, they do.” She yawned and snuggled more deeply into his embrace. “Imagine what it could be if you could use all of your gift. All of those amazing senses.”

The thought was almost too much to handle. He’d overload. But that made him hate the collar even more. He had touched, tasted, inhaled Nynn’s distinct beauty. All of it blunted. He was half- tempted to drag them to the training Cage and make love to her without the barrier that stood between him and his true power.

But no, that would be a poor substitute. Nynn had been right. They would be free.

¦   ¦   ¦

“After the match . . .”

Leto’s scratchy, rumbling voice broke their long, long silence. Nynn may have dozed, but for minutes at a time. It was as if her body only wanted brief moments of sleep so that she wouldn’t stray from him for long.

“Hm?”

He cleared his throat. “After the match, you said that you’d killed your mother.”

Old pains seized her heart. She wanted to curl into a ball and curl and curl until she couldn’t be burned by flame. It had been banked for years, but if she let it, her mind could become that long-ago house on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know when else to ask about it. Tomorrow, there’s no telling, Nynn.”

“I know.” She inhaled his salty, masculine scent. She breathed him again, knowing she was the perfume that didn’t smell quite like Leto. “I’m half Pendray,” she said, not knowing where else to begin the tale.

Leto made some noise in his throat. “Makes sense now. Freckles like them. Ears a little pointed at the top. And your gift, a blend of rage and electricity.”

“That’s what I’ve assumed, too. Well, since finding out the truth of it.” She shifted against his side, glad for his protection. “My mother was Leoki of Tigony. She never revealed my father’s identity, afraid our clan would punish him. When she refused, she was banished. I was left in Mal’s care.”

“Mal?”

“Malnefoley.”

Leto chuckled softly. “I suppose only you can refer to the Giva by such an informal name.”

“Maybe, yes. My mother was his aunt, but she was only five years older. He protected me, and I defended him from those who called him the Usurper. I wasn’t trained in the martial styles for no reason. But I was still an outcast because of my bloodline. I lived a step apart.” She shrugged, adjusting those painful childhood slights. “Eventually my mother returned. Mal made sure she was accepted at the fortress.”

“The privilege of the Giva?”

“More like the power of a man coming into his own.” She sighed. Dragon be, this weight on her chest. She never wanted to feel it again. “But my mother was . . . unstable. Whatever she’d endured out in the world had not been kind. Mal was losing the ability to protect her. Things were tenuous enough when . . .”

Nynn blinked back tears. They were welling inside her, with no other outlet. Telling the rest of the story would make crying inevitable. Leto was still looking at her, his grave features etched with concern and a sympathy