Of all males in the universe for her dysfunctional soul to latch onto, why did it make her body crave her most hated enemy? Since he was a Draeken, he would never be crippled by the
tahren
bond; he’d never feel the soul-deep emotions that would flood her should she allow the bond to take hold. If he discovered her secret, he’d have the cruelest form of torture available at his hands.
He was sharp, and she needed to escape before he grew suspicious. He already questioned her with unending perseverance, rather than turning her over to his underlings for more traditional torture methods. Had he thought to convert her to the Draeken side? Surely he must have known she’d die before betraying her people. More likely, he’d kept her alive to trade her for his officers the humans had captured last year.
No matter his intentions, only one option was acceptable.
I must kill Roden Zyll.
Resolved, she lowered the blade toward his neck. Her irrational insides wanted to scream, in a hostile clash with her rational mind. Her body was fighting itself as the natural instinct to protect one’s mate pushed against her resolve with all its might.
He’s
not
my mate. Not yet.
The bond, while slithering just below the surface, had not yet taken hold. It wouldn’t until they consummated, and even then, she must open her soul up to him. And that was something she knew would never happen. Until Roden was dead, Nalea must be stronger than nature.
Suvaste, I control my own destiny!
Furious, she yanked her arms above her head and brought the knife down with the force of all her rage behind it. Just before the blade would have skewered his black heart, a vise gripped her wrist and twisted. Sharp pain shot up her arm, and she cried out. Cold fear washed over her. She tried to scramble back but was yanked forward, spun, and shoved against the mattress. “Oomph!”
Nalea shoved at and struggled with Roden, but he easily overpowered her. Forced her arms above her head. Even though she was in prime health, he held her down as though she were just a girl, both of her wrists bound all too easily by only one of his larger hands. His body pressed hers hard against the bed, giving her no opportunity to move, let alone escape. He still had a hand free, which she suspected now held the deadly blade.
Her spirit crashed.
I’ve … failed.
“Lights,” Roden ordered, and the room brightened in response.
Nalea clenched her eyes shut against the light and against the view of her captor. The gods had forsaken her. She’d failed her people, the people of this world, and herself. She was lost.
“Let me see your eyes, Lea.” His words brushed over her like a velvet caress, and she hated him all the more for it.
Her eyes snapped open to give him her harshest glare, trying to channel all her hate into him through her hard gaze, except the brightness caused her to wince.
“Lights. Dim.”
The brightness no longer blinding, she gave him a proper glare while he frowned down at her. His wings, each tipped with a sharp bone spike, spread out behind him as though to shade her from the light. She’d often wondered how many opponents he’d slayed with those wingtips, how many women had grabbed onto them during sex. The sudden thought caused her to twitch.
Don’t go there
, she reminded herself bluntly.
He ran a finger down her cheek. Chills raised across her arms and legs. She jerked her face to the side, only to have him grab her cheek and yank her back to face him. He forced her to face him, his silver Draeken eyes scrutinizing her in the now dimly lit room. Those eyes focused on her like none had ever done before. A tragedy they belonged to her enemy.
“Ah, Lea, you vex me.”
She wrenched her gaze away. “The name is
Na
lea, and I hope you rot in all twelve hells.”
He gripped her jaw and made her look at him once again. Then he smiled, revealing a hint of white teeth. Desire burned through her veins whenever he looked at her like that, as though she mattered. She wondered what those lips would feel like on her neck, wondered how those teeth would feel when they nipped at her breasts. But it was Roden, he’d likely bite. And it would hurt. Reality was the best cure for her distracting thoughts.
“You know,” he said, skimming a finger down her neck and her body shivered in response. “If you wanted to come to my bed, you had only to ask.” He moved against her at that moment, and she felt the hardness between his legs.
She sucked in a breath between her clenched teeth. Even her anger wouldn’t hold back the goose bumps flitting across her skin. She tensed. Then tried — unsuccessfully — to shove him off. “The only thing I want is to see your blood flow through these halls like a river,” she snarled, pulling at her wrists, but it was useless. The bastard didn’t even budge.
“Such hostility,” he murmured before leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear. “I’m sure you can think of something more interesting for your
tahren.
”
Frozen, she gasped and stared, slack-jawed. Denial screamed in her soul.
He knows!
“I know a great many things,” he whispered, as though reading her mind. “Remember the first time we met? When my people attacked your Earthside base?” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, and she realized a tear had escaped. Odd. She
never
cried.
“When we tussled,” he continued, making the word
tussled
sound utterly erotic. “And I disarmed you, it was at that moment, the moment when I touched you, and your beautiful onyx eyes widened. I knew then, at that instant, something shocked you to the very core. For a Sephian, what else could it be than you have found your destined mate?”
He cocked his head slightly. “You didn’t think I’d notice? Tut, tut. I am not Lord Commander by not being perceptive. Why do you think I have led your interrogation?” His smile then grew intimate, and his wings lowered slightly, as though to cocoon them. “Because, my dear, forcing you to be near your destined
tahren
day in and day out is the sweetest torture of all. Tell me, Lea. What does it feel like to yearn for your enemy’s touch, to yearn for the touch of a Draeken?”
Before she could respond, his hard lips pressed against hers. Nalea wanted to shove him away, to slice that throat from where those cruel words came. She wanted to do anything but give in to his commanding touch, but she learned at that moment that it was hard to fight millennia of breeding.
His lips claimed hers as though proving he was the master. They felt as good as she’d imagined. She heard his ragged breathing — or maybe it was hers — and her traitorous lips softened as though to invite him to do so much more. And do more he did. Opening her mouth, she welcomed him, and his tongue plunged into her. His teeth scraped against her lips, and she released a nearly inaudible groan.
The long hard plane of his torso pressed harder against her body, and she could feel his muscles ripple. Everywhere he touched branded her. His thigh spread her legs, the heated pressure flooding sensation through her. Her core pulsed with need as he swallowed her objection which came out as a moan. Somewhere, far away in the back of her mind, a voice screamed that he was Draeken, her hated enemy who’d enslaved her people for endless centuries. She
knew
she didn’t want this, but her body refused to obey.
Roden nipped at her ear. “Some of the best secrets I know — ”
nip
“ — can be shown to you — ”
nip
“ — right here — ”
nip
“ — in this bed.”
“I hate you. So much,” she said with a sigh, only the words sounded more like a statement of pleasure. The pressure on her wrists eased. Fingers twined with hers, and she wrapped her other arm around his neck, tangling in that surprisingly soft hair, and held on as the waves of pleasure built. His thigh pressed hard against her, and she found herself moving in rhythm against him. His cock was ready, and she could already feel it throbbing against her, demanding entrance. Fortunately for her, they were still fully clothed, or else she couldn’t be sure if she could — or
wanted
to — prevent Roden from taking her.
His wings — gods, how she hated those wings — spread out wider so that her legs could wrap around his waist. Pulling him even closer, his hardness pressed against her core, and she found herself clinging to him, still knowing who he was, but still letting herself enjoy the first true bliss she could ever recall feeling.
She tried to convince herself that she was allowing this so that she could kill him while he was distracted. Truth, but also a lie. Energy deep within her core threatened to consume her. Her eyes widened upon the realization. In a terrified surge, she shoved the power back, pushing against the bond fighting to surface, coming at her harder and faster than she’d ever expected. Breaking the kiss, she slapped him with a panicked cry. “No!”
He pulled back, narrowed his eyes, and then shook his head slowly. “Fighting the bond is useless. You know you can’t prevent it. It’s only a matter of time. You are mine.”
“I’ll
never
be yours,” she swore.
He smirked. “A challenge I accept.” Then he leaned closer. “You will accept me, Lea. Willingly. Sublimely. Fervently.” Each word was slow, whispered against her lips, and she trembled under the force of each. “That, I promise.”
“Never — oh,” she exclaimed when she felt a sharp prick in her neck. Blackness swirled around her. As her world faded, her last recurring thought was that she should have killed Roden Zyll when she’d had the chance.
I’ll never be yours.
Roden’s lips curved upward as he stood under the hot shower spray, the soothing steam enveloping him in warmth. He loved a good challenge, and this female brought the best kind. When he’d first realized he was her destined mate, the thought appalled him. How could he, a great Draeken lord, be a common Sephian’s
tahren
?
Though there was nothing
common
about Nalea. She was a member of a trinity, making her almost his equal in military standards. An exceptional beauty, she was known throughout both races for her statuesque resplendence. She’d certainly been the subject of artwork and fantasies alike after transforming into a woman.
The more he thought about the possibility, the more the idea intrigued him. While there’d been Draeken-Sephian
tahren
over the years, the number was trivial compared to the size of the two races. And, of that number, at least one mate was often times of mixed Sephian-Draeken blood. Their DNA was similar enough for biological compatibility, but simply too different for the soul-deep
tahren
union.
Roden had confidence in his heritage — his bloodline was pure Draeken descent for as long as records were kept. So then the question begged to ask. What was Nalea hiding? By all accounts, she looked Sephian. Gold skin, with the nearly transparent markings of the
soullare
branding her flesh. Pure black eyes, black hair. And, most importantly, no wings. She was tall for a Sephian, nearly six feet, but not tall enough to raise suspicion.
Still, he knew she was hiding something. And so, he’d begun a search, and he’d searched more thoroughly than he’d done before. The utter normalcy of the information he found on her was telling in itself. Nothing stood out about her life before the war. Typical childhood — and he knew there’d been nothing
typical
about his prisoner — a clear sign that her profile had been tampered with.
But Roden had his talents. And her secrets couldn’t stay hidden from him for long. With a few archival bypasses, he’d found the truth. His prisoner’s darkest secret took root before she was born.
It was the same secret that made Nalea the key to his plans.
He turned his back to the spray and switched the water to a cleansing agent that coated his long wings. Hitting the button again, water jetted out, cascading over his wings and body. He rolled his neck, allowing the spray to massage his tight muscles.
As for Nalea’s other secret … now that she knew that he
knew
he was her destined mate, the game had escalated to the next level. But he’d learned an important lesson tonight. He needed to be more careful in his interactions with his prisoner. While the
tahren
pull shouldn’t sway his Draeken emotions, something about her threw him off balance. He found that he actually
felt
something for the female. Hells, he would’ve taken her right then and there on his bed if she hadn’t stopped him.
Perhaps it was because Nalea — a killer and a warrior — reminded him of his own jaded past. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, unlike everyone else who cowered under a few well-placed words. Or, perhaps, it was simply because she was absolutely, positively unaware of her potent sensuality.
Thoughts of her made his erection throb for release all the more after being thwarted earlier. With one arm braced against the shower wall, he reached down and fisted his length. His hand moved up and down, in a slow rhythm, all the while imagining the woman locked safely away in his cells.
He envisioned her undressed, pinned against the wall, her thighs clasped around his hips, just as they’d done in his bed. Her obsidian eyes never left his as he penetrated her, crashing her limits, and demanding more. She’d raked at him, pulling him to her with all her strength, begging him for release.
He was already primed, and his cock began to release with each mental thrust into her. She’d be beautiful when she came, and that image was all he needed for final release. “Lea,” he groaned as the final, forceful climax hit him, spilling onto his torso.
Eyes closed, he lowered his head and stayed under the spray, breathing deep, feeling only the slightest relief. He knew he’d need to reach full release at least a dozen more times — and most definitely not alone — to find the reprieve he was looking for. He’d let a Sephian get under his skin, and it pissed him off.
A loud beep yanked Roden’s attention to the wall com just outside the shower. A light by the small rectangular screen in the wall flashed a prism of color.