War Bride (Battle Born Book 7) (4 page)

It was a power play, a not very subtle reminder that everything she’d receive from this point on would come from him. Insisting that he toss it to her wouldn’t change the reality of her situation, so she reluctantly approached and allowed him to slip the robe up her arms and across her shoulders. He took his time about it, doubtlessly using his height to gawk at her breasts. The instant his fingers released the robe, she overlapped the front and tightened the belt.

“Better?” He rested his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from moving away. Then she felt a subtle scrape against her scalp as he drew one of the many pins out of her upswept hair. “I want it down.”

Do you always get what you want?
She knew the answer, so she didn’t bother asking the question. Besides, she needed to choose her battles and this wasn’t one worth fighting. He caressed each strand, gently unweaving the intricate pattern Rona had created. Skyla stood still and tried to ignore her racing heart. His fingers brushed along her neck and sneaked inside the robe, making her restless.

“You’ve formed social alliances with four different men in the past six years.” His fingers pushed into her hair, clasping the strands without actually pulling. “How many entered your body?”

“Are you going to tell me about each of your lovers?” She tried to look back at him, but his hold on her hair wouldn’t allow her to turn her head.

“If you like.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected, so she told him what he’d wanted to know. “I’ve had two lovers.”

“Why did neither of them claim you as mate?” His fingers relaxed, dragging through her hair before he turned her around.

Apparently, that question was more important to him. Why else would he want to see her face? “I wasn’t genetically compatible with either. The first relationship was a harmless fling. We both knew it wasn’t serious.”

“And the second?”

“I thought he was a worthy life partner. He wasn’t my mate, but he had other qualities that I admired. I’d agreed to join with him when my gift warned me of his true nature.”

His brows arched and blue fire sparked deep in his eyes before he calmed his expression. “What has your gift shown you about me?”

“Nothing.” She indulged in a challenging smile as she added, “Yet.”

He made a sound not quite a chuckle then swept his arm toward the bed. “Have a seat and I’ll show you what else I brought.”

“May we please sit on the couch, sir?” She wanted to avoid the bed for as long as possible.

“No.” He crossed the small room and sat on the side of the bed. After tugging off his boots and socks, he arranged the pillows against the wall and raised his hand. “Come here.”

She hesitated, not trusting herself to resist him.

After swinging his long legs up onto the bed, he scooted back against the pillows. “If I come get you, you’ll lose the robe for the rest of the night.”

She moved toward him, each step tightening the knot in her belly.

He took the tray off the nightstand and moved it to the bed beside him.

“Where am I going to sit?” She motioned toward the tray.

“Right here.” He spread his legs and patted the mattress between his thighs.

Touch and tease, he intended to turn every activity into a seduction. “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled noisily, branding her a liar.

Apparently hearing the sound, he smiled. “You forgot to tell your stomach.”

If she continued to stall, she had no doubt he’d come get her. And she really didn’t want to lose the comfort of the robe. She reached the bed and he caught her wrist, drawing her steadily forward until she had no choice but to join him on the bed. He guided her into position, her butt on the bed between his legs, her legs arched over his thigh. The robe was long enough to cover her legs, but she was literally surrounded by him.

“Relax. I just want to feed you.”

For now
. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

He uncovered the tray and revealed a variety of finger foods, most of which she didn’t recognize. There was also a decanter filled with what she hoped was Bilarrian blood wine. Named for its rich red color, the spicy beverage was one of her favorites. But where were the glasses? Bending his leg behind her and resting his hand on his knee, he created a surprisingly comfortable support for her back. He picked up one of the bite-size tidbits and brought it toward her mouth.

“Are you taking me to Rodymia, or will I be kept on this ship?” She glanced into his eyes then accepted the food.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Her chances of escape were better on a planet, even one as inhospitable as Rodymia. She chewed with more force than necessary, frustrated by her own thoughts. Thanks to her dreams, she knew she wouldn’t escape, so why couldn’t she stop thinking about the possibility? She was afraid, not of surrendering to him, but of what life would be like once he freed her. War brides were social pariahs. Even those with loving families were pitied and shunned by the rest of the elite. No matter what happened from this point on, life as Skyla knew it ended when her captor brought her aboard this ship.

Dwelling on the future only made the present even more unbearable. “Do you command this vessel?” She needed to know more about him, needed to know
anything
about him.

He placed another bite in her mouth before he responded. “What makes you ask?”

“To be in a position to ensure my safety, you would have to be one of two people, the crew’s commander or the owner of this ship. You were wearing body armor when you kidnapped me, so I believe you’re military, which makes the command conclusion more plausible.”

He inclined his head rather than verbally confirming her assumption. They lapsed into silence as he continued to feed her. Despite how long it had been since she ate, stress was quickly eroding her hunger.

“Is there any way you’d tell me your name, sir?” She added the title as an afterthought, not sure if it would help or not. When he said nothing, she glanced at him then lowered her gaze.

His long fingers pushed into her hair, which pressed his palm against the side of her face. Then he used his thumb to tilt her head back and angle her face toward him. “The only reason you need to know my name is so you can scream it when you come.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “Are you ready to come for me?”

She shook her head, which inadvertently rubbed her lips against his. Heat cascaded through her body, making her core ache. This was not good. “I… You said you’d tell me about your lovers.”

He released her head and picked up another morsel, feeding it to her as he said, “I suspect there have been fewer than you’ve supposed.”

She licked her lips and paused to clear her mouth. Was talking about his sex life any better than talking about hers? “Maybe your kiss led me to believe you’ve never been with a woman before.” She heard the provocation and froze. What in creation had made her say that?

He paused with the next bite halfway to her mouth. “If you challenge me, Skyla, I will respond.”

He was right. Challenging him was a bad idea unless she wanted to find herself flat on her back with him on top of her. “I’m sorry, sir. I have a strange sense of humor.”

“You weren’t trying to make me laugh. You were trying to make me kiss you.” He set down the bite then returned the tray to the nightstand. “I thought you needed time to accept our arrangement. Would you rather I take complete control? Will it be easier for you if I’m entirely to blame for everything that happens?”

“This isn’t about blame.” She reached past his shoulder and snatched the decanter off the tray, but he took it from her before she could raise it to her mouth.

“You drink from my lips or not at all,” he reminded.

She wanted the wine, but she wanted his mouth even more. She knew they’d be lovers, so what was the point in postponing the inevitable?

You know nothing about this man. He could be a coldblooded murderer for all you know.
Her inner voice was sharp and insistent.

“Do you still want the wine?” His tone was even more challenging than hers had been.

She nodded.

“Then say it.”

“May I please have some wine—sir?”

He took a swig off the decanter then pulled her toward him, his fingers tangled in the back of her hair. His mouth covered hers, forming a snug seal and she instinctively closed her eyes. He released the liquid in a slow drizzle and the spicy-fresh taste of blood wine rolled across her tongue. She swallowed twice then tried to push him away. His fingers tightened in her hair, and then his twisting motion made her open her eyes. He set the decanter on the nightstand, freeing his hand so he could touch her.

His gaze locked with hers, the blue rings in his eyes just beginning to glow. “All you have to do is surrender and everything changes.” He touched his fingertip to her temple then slid the featherlight touch down along her jaw. “I’ll adore you.” His other fingers joined the first as he descended along her neck. “Spoil you. Focus completely on your pleasure.” He slipped his hand inside her robe and brushed the upper curve of her breast. “All you have to do is surrender.”

Not allowing her time to reply, he returned his mouth to hers. His lips caressed for a moment then settled against hers, warm, firm, and insistent. The hand in her hair released, his fingers splaying against the back of her head. Like his words, his kiss was insidious, seductive. Rather than forcing his will on her, he beckoned with slow, tempting sensations.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips. “Open, Sky. Your master needs you.”

When she didn’t immediately obey, he eased his hand lower and cupped her breast. Her breath escaped in a stilted sigh and his tongue eased between her lips. His taste crept across her tongue and heat cascaded through her body, pooling between her thighs. How was she supposed to resist him when her own physiology was working against her? She literally ached for the fullness of his body inside hers.

He pivoted to the side and lowered her back to the bed. She raised her hands to his chest, but couldn’t quite summon the will to push him away. Drunk on his kiss and breathless besides, she only moaned as he grew more aggressive.

One of his arms slipped under her neck while he loosened the belt with his other hand. Soon the robe framed her body rather than concealing it. He slowly separated their mouths and stared into her eyes. The rings in his eyes glowed with blue fire and stark hunger sharpened his expression. His hand moved from her neck to her shoulders to her breasts. All the while his gaze bore into hers, daring her to object, to struggle or deny him.

She felt paralyzed, spellbound. Had there been something in the wine or was she truly this weak? She would not just lie here and let him have his way. Her pride alone required that she fight. She pushed against his chest and twisted in a futile attempt to avoid his roaming hand. He covered her breast, squeezing firmly, and the pressure between her legs pulsed.

“You need this as much as I do. Why resist your own nature?” There was no mockery in his words, just calm assurance and curiosity.

With a frustrated cry, she closed her eyes, thinking to shut him out. But his image followed her into the darkness, speeding the scene toward its inevitable conclusion. In her mind, he was on top of her, inside her, as he moved with strong, deep strokes.

He caught one of her nipples with his mouth, drawing on the sensitive peak. She arched helplessly, eyes flying open. Her imagination was more evocative than reality. Apparently, there was no escape from his sensual attack.

Exasperated by her traitorous body, she fisted her hands and hit him as hard as she could. One hand struck his shoulder, the other his jaw. His head was jarred enough that he released her nipple with a throaty growl.

In an instant, he straddled her hips and dragged her hands above her head. His silent focus was much more frightening than threats would have been. He pinned her wrists to the bed with one hand while he dragged her belt out from under her.

“That’s the one and only time I’ll allow you to hit me.” He quickly looped the belt through something on the wall just out of her field of vision. Then he bound her wrists with efficient skill, securing her arms over her head. “If you attempt to harm me again, I will punish you.” After tugging on each arm to make sure the belt would hold, he scooted down along her body.

“I’m your prisoner,” she cried. “Would you calmly accept captivity, or do everything in your power to thwart your captor?”

“You’re only my prisoner because you’re too stubborn for your own good.” He knelt on the mattress near the foot of the bed and pushed her knees toward her chest, freeing her legs from the weight of his body.

Before Skyla could take advantage of the new position, his long fingers curled around the sides of her panties and she thought her heart would pound right through her ribs. Was this it? Would he claim her now, despite his promise to wait until she was willing? Her fingernails dug into her palms and her thighs began to tremble.

He dragged her panties down her thighs, but his gaze remained on her face. “Your scent is intoxicating.” After tossing her panties aside, he grasped the underside of her knees and slowly opened her thighs. “Are you still going to pretend you don’t want me?”