“There is no way.” She smiled sadly. “You’re my prisoner.”
He laughed again. “A moment ago, you were begging for me. And here you are, deep in my embrace.” He lowered his eyelashes in a sultry gaze. “I think you’remyprisoner.”
“I…” She didn’t have a response for that.
“And I’m your captor,” he murmured, stroking her while holding her possessively.
In that moment, she couldn’t deny the truth of his words. And as his touch sent new tingles of pleasure through her, shedidn’t want to be anywhere else. She even caught herself turning so he could more fully hold her.
“You’re my captor,” she whispered.
“I thought so,” he said, that smugness in his eyes again. “And you like it. Youwantto be mine.”
“You’re cocky, Vorik.”
“You like that too.”
Yes, she did. She kissed him and didn’t try to escape his grip. She didn’t ever want to escape his grip.
After her joining with Vorik, Syla lay, deliciously sated and snuggled with her back to his chest, his arm over hers, and their hands touching. By the gods, why couldn’t they stay together forever? Never had she known sex could be so glorious and satisfying, nor had she ever felt as safe as she did in Vorik’s arms.
The arms of her enemy. It was such a struggle to remember he was that after all the times he’d saved her life. And after their intimacy.
She threaded her fingers through his, thinking nothing of the gesture, but a faint silver light glowed from the hand pressed against his dragon tattoo. Her moon-mark. It didn’t buzz or tingle or suggest it was doing anything magical—or drawing upon her power. It merely glowed warmly, like a gentle beacon. As if it were… content?
At the moment,shewas content, but she didn’t know what to make of the glow. She worried Vorik would open his eyes, see it, and think she was calling upon her magic, that she meant to use her power on him in some way.
She released his fingers and shifted her hand up to his wrist. The light from the moon-mark, as if it had been activated by the proximity of his tattoo, faded. Good. But what had it meant?
She remembered their passionate joining against the rock formation in the cactus-flower canyon, the way she hadn’t been able to activate the rune that had revealed the storm god’s laboratory, not when she alone had touched it. Only when their hands had both pressed against it had the way shown itself to them.
At the time, she’d been too distracted by the revelation—and her steamy climax to Vorik’s lovemaking—to consider it fully. But it had to meansomething. Didn’t it?
Syla turned her head to consider Vorik’s face. Eyes closed and breathing even, he didn’t seem to have noticed the glow.
By the light of the lantern, she admired his profile, the strong line of his jaw, and she let her gaze roam over the rest of him. Old scars marked his body, signaling all the battles he’d survived. He wasn’t that much older than she, but he’d lived a hard life and endured much. That he could smile and joke so easily—and find pleasure in the little things like a fruity dessert—was a testament to his resilience and his steady and agreeable attitude. All of him was agreeable, and her heart ached at the thought that the world would soon force them to part again.
“If you wanted to become a leader of your tribe, you’d do a better job than you think,” she murmured, though she believed him asleep.
He wasn’t entirely and emitted a muzzy, “Hm?”
“You’re capable in a lot of ways, and you want what’s best for your tribe. For all your people, I’m sure. You’d be a good leader.”
“Are you suggesting this because you’d prefer to negotiate with me over Chieftess Shi?”
“Anyone would prefer you over her. She’s insulting and difficult. I doubt her loyalty could be won by a blueberry cobbler.”
He snorted softly and patted her hand. “I doubt that too.”
“I suppose my words are motivated by what I want for my people. I said I wouldn’t try to connive or manipulate you, and urging you to duel for the chieftainship of your tribe might count.”
“I don’t think that’s conniving.”
“Manipulative?”
“Well, maybe a little. Especially if you start stroking my ego and telling me how magnificent I would look wearing the ceremonial headdress.”
“What if I stroke other things?” She shifted so that she faced him and rested a hand on his chest.
