Caged Warrior

TWENTY-SIX

Leto needed Nynn’s kindness. Wanted it. Knew his sanity depended on it.

Yet they sat side by side on the bed in his room, not touching. He hadn’t moved since their return, when they’d cleaned and changed clothes. He couldn’t move now. His heart had been carved out with a machete. It no longer beat. It no longer had reason to.

“You held your niece,” she whispered. “You told me so.”

His throat ached. He wanted to claw at it until the collar fell away or his head popped off. Death for a Dragon King. He deserved it after trusting such twisted men. He’d believed their promises, dispatched dozens at their command, and brought damned and innocents alike into the fold—training them, yes, but feeding them the same brainwashed lies.

Only Nynn had ever gotten it right. He was the fool.

His fists looked so powerful resting on his thighs, but he didn’t feel powerful. “Do you trust any of your memories right now?”

She stroked his bare shoulder, soft but not tentative. Her hair smelled of snow. She’d answered that mystery for him: a name for that scent of sharp, crisp air. “You’re right. I don’t trust much of anything, except that I’m here with you.”

“And that makes it better?”

Nynn’s flinch meant he’d gone too far. As her trainer, he would’ve gloried in drawing forth an unchecked show of fear. It would’ve been proof of his intimidation.

He dropped his head into his hands and scraped the back of his skull. She crawled behind him on the bed. After stripping her shirt, she draped across his back and held him around the chest.

“You couldn’t have known.” Her breath stirred him more gently than the precious weight of her lithe torso, but no less intensely. “Whatever they’ve done, they did it to you. They did it to me as well. We’ve had so little to hope for. What person, human or Dragon King, would’ve refused the chances that have been dangled in front of us?”

“They’ve let us stay here together. Another prize, I suppose.” She tightened her hands around two fistfuls of his flesh. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “The things I want aren’t mine to keep. That’s what it is to be a slave.”

Nynn licked the top of his spine. She’d never be able to lick all the way up, reaching his hairline, because the collar barred the way. A barrier he’d worn—suffered under—since his earliest memories. He’d wanted glory and respect. Now he wanted to kiss Nynn’s bare neck and he wanted to see the snow, even if the glare blinded him for days.

And his family. His fear outweighed his hopes now. What had been fighting for their future was now a matter of staying strong just to save them.

“You don’t feel like a slave.” She tensed her fingers again. Dug into skin and muscle. Pressed her breasts more firmly against his back. “You don’t think like a slave. Not anymore.”

Nynn’s ministrations tempted him to dive into her embrace, join with her body, lose his thoughts in a burst of release. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“I held her,” he said quietly. “She was so small that she fit in my two palms. I thought I would drop her until Yeta showed me the right way to hold her. Black hair. Beautiful golden skin. Her face was peaceful when she slept, then tight like a wrinkled ball when she woke and cried. I watched my sister rock her. I watched Dalnis duck away, overcome by even more emotion than I felt.” He shuddered an exhale. “I’d been so proud, Nynn. I’d fought for a decade so that they could hold a child.”

“And her name?”

“Shoshan. Shoshan of Garnis.” He rocked up to stand. Nynn still knelt on the bed, bare from the waist up. The solace she offered was so compelling. “Was she even real? And if she was . . . If I fought so that Dr. Aster could help Yeta conceive . . . Then why were you able to give birth to Jack? A natural-born Dragon King. What have I been fighting for?”

She stood with innate grace. Kind but insistent hands—hands lined with callouses that matched his own—pulled his gaze down from the ceiling. It was either stare at the ceiling or at the perfect swell of her breasts. He was a hungry, greedy man. Had he freed his angered beast, he would’ve turned her over the bed and fucked her. Again. Like they’d done before.

He was not the beast the Asters expected. He was a man who wanted this woman, her sighs and compassionate touches and respect. All of her. A good thing, because Nynn wouldn’t let him look away. When he found that familiar mix of stubbornness, smarts, and a glimmer of humor in her eyes, Leto didn’t want to.

“You’ve been fighting for your own version of survival. You’ve been fighting because you thought you were doing what was right for your family.”

“Now Pell will live under Dr. Aster’s so-called care.” The bile that rose into his mouth held the taste of poison. “She could’ve been safe with Yeta. I thought . . . Dragon damn, I thought I could give her something better.”

“You can still. We can for both of our families.”

“More hopes.”

She brought him down to meet her. A kiss of compromise. Slight, sweet, and vivid enough to shine light into the dark places he’d kept hidden. “Hopes we control. Nothing they dangle in front of us, but the ones we make for ourselves.”

“How is that better?”

“They can’t enslave our thoughts.”

He pulled her into his arms and held on. They had little else but the shared comfort of two bodies and two minds shying away from pain.

“Thank you.” Her soft words brushed moist heat along the thin skin of his collarbone.

Confused, Leto pulled back enough to see her expression. “For what?”

“I wear a dragon on my back instead of a serpent. That was because of you. I was smug and satisfied when the Asters whipped you for that. I thought you got what you deserved. Thought you’d been jealous of . . . Fuck. That you’d made the choice out of some warped pettiness. Instead, you did it to save me.”

Leto was surprised to find himself smiling. Slight. Chagrined. But it was still a smile. “You said you had a serpent inside you. You didn’t need another one.” He frowned. “You also said, ‘Burn it down.’ Do you remember that?”

She began to tremble. Her voice was a chatter of teeth and sloppy consonants. “Can we . . . ?”

“And what you said about your mother?”

“I don’t want to. Leto, please. It’s fire in my mind. Too much.”

“For now. Too much.” With his arms closed around her, he kissed the top of her head. “I want you again. I think I’ve wanted you from the start.”

A shaky sob rattled from her chest into his. “After seeing me naked, how could you not?”

“Would it upset you to hear that I’ve used that technique with every neophyte?”

“Did every neophyte turn you on?”

“No. They whined or begged or cried, so that I wanted to make it worse for them. Keep my pity at bay. You pushed back. Naked. Defenseless. You made me feel like I was the one being tested.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said with a trace of laughter. “Because I didn’t see anything close to that.”

Another kiss. Arms tighter. “But here. Tonight. Nynn, not like last time.”

He didn’t have the words to ask for more. Didn’t know how to match emotion with language.

She pulled him down for another kiss. Her naked chest brushed his as she balanced on tiptoes. Such a beautiful miracle of touch. “Have we fought enough, Leto? Tell me we have—at least each other. Tell me that my warrior wants caring, because that’s what I want to give.”

“Your warrior?”

“You’ve kept me whole and safe and mean, even when it was directed at you and when I made stupid decisions. I blamed you when I couldn’t tell one pain from another.” She nipped kisses along toward his shoulder, talking as she went. “You were the nearest extension of the Asters. I could take it out on you when I couldn’t harm them. But you never faltered. The long game. Save our families. You were strong enough for both of us, when I couldn’t be.”

“And what has that strength accomplished?”

“I’m here. You’re here. Will the skills you’ve taught me vanish? No. Which means when the time comes to . . .” She swallowed tightly. “When the time comes to burn it down, I’ll be your partner in that, too. So yes. My warrior.”

“But not tonight.”

“No, not tonight.” She caused goose bumps to flutter down his arm with the lightest caress. “Leto, show me how tender you can be.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Nynn didn’t know if she had asked too much until he cupped her shoulders. The wide, implacable wall of his body urged her backward. She was at eye level with the undeniable strength of his chest, which was shaped by muscle and shaded by the sharp, soft angle of light from the single lamp in the corner. Memories layered on memories, with the present caught in a dark, swirling cloud. She had once seen the world as would an artist. Audrey MacLaren. Art teacher. Widow. So much of herself had been taken, as a child, as a lab experiment, and then as a Cage warrior.

Rather than go mad from the anger and pain, she sought the man who would take her mind away, at least for the night. Leto was breathtaking. He had been from the start, no matter how she’d resisted him. Now, as she lay perpendicular on the bed, she could admire him fully. Heavy muscles clung to strong bones. His skin shone dark copper, and his black hair all but absorbed the light. She breathed out. The resentment was gone. All that remained was the privilege of admiring a man built for violence—and who dared to offer gentleness.

His gaze held no violence. She found surprising hopefulness among currents of desire that were practically caresses. Along her cheek. Through the valley between her breasts. Down to her belly where anticipation grew. She was fire and bronze, all things hot and resilient. That power was within her, but his open appreciation made her giddy and weightless.

Soon his weight would hold her down. She wanted that. The security and protection. The seductive mindlessness.

“You stare.” His two words, as raspy as sandpaper. She shivered. His gaze shifted to where her nipples beaded.

“So do you.”

“Too much to look at.”

She extended a hand. “It’s like the sun on the snow. You think it’s too much, but you can’t look away.”

Leto paused in the act of removing his plain shorts.

He was already hard.

Nynn continued to stare. She knew she should find his eyes and return to the idea of gentleness that she had initiated, but he was too impressive. They’d been too quick the last time, although tactile memories of biting, kissing, fucking reminded her there was nothing to regret. Just a different sort of need.

Now she could admire his prowess in full. So aroused, his cock lifted high. It appeared as lengthy as her body remembered, as thick and weighty.

Although she’d been holding out her arm in invitation, she levered off the bed and took hold of his hips. She couldn’t resist tasting him. Tongue first, just a circle around the clean, broad head.

Leto hissed. His hands curled beneath her jaw and lifted her chin. He loomed over her, as if standing as majestically as a mountain was his gift from the Dragon. “I will not be gentle if we begin like that.”

“Women have done this to you, then?”

“I’ve practically forced this on women.”

“Big difference, Leto. Stand still. Enjoy. And know that I’m enjoying it, too.”

She liked that his hands tightened around her face, a reminder of the strength he held in check. Every lick and swirl and long, languorous suck drew different reactions from him. Sometimes hisses—those were especially good, telling her she’d taken him by surprise. Sometimes grunts and truncated thrusts, when she’d back off. She didn’t want to veer too near to the sharp vigor they’d shared before. Mostly his reactions were told through those hands framing her face. Twitch. Tense. Fingers twisting into her hair.

He was too big to take as deeply as she wanted. She used the clasp of her fingers to make up the difference remaining between her lips and his body. The rhythm she chose was slow and so, so deliberate, even though her body began to hum a potent charge. Since she’d learned to use her gift, she equated arousal with the explosive force. Gathering energy . . . then the release.

This gathering was achingly patient. The release would be complete.

After dragging her tongue along the length of his shaft, she moved to take his throbbing head back into her mouth. Those hands lining her jaw reminded her that, when he wanted to be, Leto was in charge.

“Enough.” He sounded just as bestial as ever. His eyes, heavy-lidded and fathomless, marked the only difference. He looked stunned. And eager.

Nynn expected his resolve to crumble. She had pushed him too far. Her warrior would shove her back across the bed and take what his body demanded. She wouldn’t mind; he would be satisfying her needs as well. But she’d hoped they were more than that.

He proved they could be when he dropped to his knees.

“Off with these,” he said, tugging her shorts. She had no say—a compromise of sorts between being taken and being coddled. “My turn.”

Nynn opened her knees even as he pushed them wide. “You’ve done this to women, then?”

She’d meant it as a teasing echo, but the skin across his cheekbones tightened as he grimaced. “Not often enough for you to appreciate any great skill.”

“I like an honest man.”

Lying back on one elbow, she guided his face down until the first rush of contact made her gasp. His lips were hot, but his tongue was even hotter. He lacked finesse. He did not lack patience or intensity. Nynn arched and tipped her pelvis forward. He hooked an arm under her ass to position her as he wanted. His other hand grasped her breast, softly kneading, looping his fingers over her nipple in a pattern that matched the pulse of his tongue.

Breathing heavily, Nynn offered no resistance when he pushed her breastbone in a signal for her to lie back. He eased two fingers into her sheath. He must’ve appreciated her whispered curse because he grinned against her inner thigh. A rumbled curse of his own trembled up her legs and pooled where his fingers pulsed.

Without thought, she began to speak in the old language. Not Tigony or Garnis. Not Sath or Pendray or Indranan. There was a language even older than the Five Clans, and she knew its words.

Leto paused. Looked up her body. Those nearly black eyes held as many questions as promises of lust and satisfaction.

“I’d forgotten,” he said softly, in that same lost language.

“Me, too.”

She caressed his cheek, which was roughened by sharp stubble. The ancient spell wove between them, until speaking English or even her clan’s tongue would’ve seemed like sacrilege in the bubble of time and space they’d claimed for themselves.

“Then this is how we’re supposed to make love,” he said. “Even down to the words given to us by the Dragon.”

“Making love.”

A frown etched between his brows. After a few more luxurious strokes, so deep where she yearned for more, he eased his fingers free. His features still revealed the riddles of his thoughts, but he lifted up and over her body. They were still sideways across the mattress. His feet must’ve been planted firmly on the floor. Nynn could only flick her attention between his taut expression and the hand he’d clamped around the base of his prick.

“That’s what we’re doing, Nynn. Making love.”

She smiled, almost relieved that his confusion came from something so simple. Although none of this felt simple. “Yes, we are.”

She pulled him down as she lifted up, that same dance of compromise, as they balanced each other. Dovetailed one another. His mouth tasted of her body, which was both shocking and amazingly intimate. Soon that taste was licked and kissed away until she found only Leto. His heat and the sharp sweetness of his tongue swished over hers. Rough breaths puffed between them in a quiet, tender duel.

Nynn was restless. The place he’d filled with such care, with only two of his blunt fingers, needed more. She needed the heavy erection jutting out from the body he held rigid.

She touched one of his unsteady biceps. “This from my warrior? Shaking?”

“You take everything from me.” He positioned himself at her slick opening and pulsed inside. No quick thrust. Not even a tease—just the gentleness she’d asked for. Hard, thick, almost asking permission. “Just as you give everything to me.”

“Give me everything now.”

He shook his head. “We’re making love. Those are the right words for what we’re doing. Because I am not a beast.”

“No. You’re not.”

“And I’m not just your warrior.”

Tears burned beneath her lids. She couldn’t breathe except in pained little gulps. She lifted her hand and touched the collar she’d always hated. Now she had so many more reasons to despise the things.

She’d asked him once, and she asked him again. “What would you be without this?”

His answer . . .

Oh, Dragon be. Please.

With eyes as dark as midnight, as expressive as dance, he pushed his full, throbbing length into her waiting body. Nynn opened her mouth but made no sound. Only shuddered at the rightness of their joining.

He leaned down, cradling the back of her head. She clung to him, wrapped her legs around him, moved with him.

Against her temple he whispered, “I’d be a better man.”