But Ifelthis reaction. What went unseen, still filtering through the shield with nothing to throttle it. Elite energy surged behind my ribs, a storm of possessive rage seething and spitting as the captain watched the other without blinking.
Utterly still, but for the thrashing of his heart and mine.
“You think I don’t remember what it’s like to take a priestess for the first time?” the general asked, spreading his arms along the rim of the pool to display an impressive wingspan and slabs of heavy, rippling muscle. “To be drunk on that sort of power?” He chuckled, inspecting me through a slimy grin. Seeming to take no notice of the tempest building at my back. “There’s no parallel for such a gift, to say nothing of their tight little Tritan cunts.”
The captain went rigid. His muscles going stiff where he held me locked in place. Arms a tight, protective band capable of leaving bruises marking me as his.
His to corrupt.
To control and stain.
“She’s a drug, boy.” Poised, cocky and confident, the general shrugged. “One that’s clouded your judgement with the sweet taste of pussy and power. But they’re all the same. Whores who need a firm hand and a fat cock.” He glanced down, into the water where he grew thick with the promise of a brewing fight. “It’ll take more than one to break her spirit. To kill the part of her that dreams of rebellion so you can fill the empty space with the behavior of your choice. She should be given no rest until she’s well and truly broken in. Not so snug anymore, perhaps, but”—he made a face—“flawless obedience has its price. Besides, it won’t be long before there’s a new generation up for sale.”
“Fuck off, Harper,” the captain snarled, and surging upright, he brought me with him before I might react to that sentiment. Instead I hung stiff from his arms, gold pumping through my veins in a show of the captain’s influence. His desperate need for control that bled into me. “I don’t need you to tell me how to train my slave.”
“If that were true,” the general cooed, “wouldn’t she be trained already?”
To this, the captain had nothing to say. Merely marched me toward the exit in a shower of sloshing water and naked flesh.
Straight into the general’s path, though it couldn’t be helped.
A rough palm landed on my navel. Fingertips splayed from hip to hip, the general’s touch sent a screech to flounder and die in my throat. Caught and murdered before it was ever given life.
“I could make it an order…” General Tilcot murmured, and murky dark eyes slid up. Over my nudity, bypassing my face, to find the captain’s furious glare where it simmered over my shoulder. “I could command you to leave her here, with me, and no one would question it. Some might even wonder why I’ve yet to take over. And who knows,” he continued, fingers curling in to scrape at my reddened flesh with blunt nails. A threat thatalmostbrushed the top of my hairless mound. “Perhaps sheisdifferent. Enough that she’d be of more use in the program as a bree—”
“We’re done here,” the captain snarled, and all but hurled me from the pool. Following me out to the sound of boisterous, cruel laughter.
“Of course you are, boy.” Turning, the general folded his forearms and set his chin atop corded muscle. Coy, as he floated and watched. “This has been your pattern since you were a child. Always have to have the last word.”
“See, now that’s where you’re wrong.” Running a towel over my skin, the captain was rough. Hands shaking, he completely ignored my feminine charms in his haste to be gone, dragging rumpled pants over wet skin. “I’m leaving before you make a challenge I can’t ignore. And,” he tossed his shirt over his shoulder and turned to face the other elite, “I don’t want your unborn child to grow up fatherless.”
And with that, the captain threw open the door—the last word claimed as his.
It was my mistake to turn and look.
To make eye contact with the Caledonian general lounging in a pool of steaming water. Chin set atop crossed forearms, all shoulders, tousled hair, and tranquil muscle, he lifted the fingers of his left hand. Smirked, and gave me a dainty little wriggle that sent chills scampering down my spine.
15
All but naked, I staggered along at the captain’s back. Dazed. Dragged along in his wake, I clutched a fluffy white towel over my breasts. Unable to shake the general’s smirk, his absurd confidence in watching us go an ominous threat I could feel nipping at my heels.
Mind reeling at the hinted revelations—the half-truths and things I wasn’t supposed to hear, much less understand—I did my best to keep pace with the captain’s long-legged stride. Bare feet slapping at cool tiles, my jaw stretched with dull pain that spoke of the things I’d done. Opening for the captain with little more than gentle prompting.
Iached. Pussy throbbing with yet another release built and destroyed, blood still singing with elite might and denial.
Tangled in all things Asher, his fury became mine. His need to flee living in my chest almost as surely as the taut misery between my legs pulsed heavy and low in his sack.
But something stood out above all else.
Above the fact that they were seemingly related, the threat of being claimed by the general, the constant lurking threat of the capitol’s interest, and the consequences of what I had just allowed to happen.
“What program do you need Tritans for?” I asked, throat parched, dry and gritty as I watched the captain’s shoulders tighten.
He said nothing.
“Asher—”
Spinning, he glowered down at me for the space of a single heartbeat, then took me by the shoulders and shoved me into a storage closet. “Enough,” he snarled when the door snapped shut, plunging us into darkness. Bare chest heaving where it was pressed against mine, he shook me. Energy laced with a desperate, frantic edge. “Have you no concept of the danger we are in? Did you hearnothingthat was just said?”
