Luxuriating in the way my every forgotten millimeter throbbed, I was almost able to ignore the hint ofwronglaced in his generosity. Almost didn’t notice the whisper of rot twisting through the ecstasy, despite the way my fingers had curled into claws where they were buried in his shirt. Or that I gobbled up every drop he was willing to share and tried to reach for more—before I ran into his wall and was denied with a cold slap.
“Greedy girl,” he purred, slipping one hand between us to adjust himself where his cock had grown stiff. His jaw tight as he watched me down the length of his nose. And then, “Let’s get you fed, shall we? And then we’ll see about painting your face.”
Nodding without really listening, dizzy with even so conservative a sip, I rolled my neck. Stretching muscles long out of use, I agreed to whatever he wanted, as long as the reward was more of that potent elite energy.
Touch light on my nape, Asher’s fingers curled around the back of my neck. Almost touching at the base of my throat as he steered me from the bathroom. Tossing a careless, “Thank you,” over his shoulder without bothering to look back.
We paused at the top of the stairs. Poised, as if on the edge.
“Ready for this?” he asked in a low hum, because we were both feeling it.
I glanced up, and found him watching. “Does it matter?”
He snorted. “Not really, no.”
“Then lead on, oh great and powerful master,” I said, inclining my head.
Grinning, he pulled me in tight. Towering above me, just for a moment. Just long enough to drown me in heat and inky, swirling pools of liquid desire. “I should warn you,” he murmured, and stepped back without acting on what I could plainly see lurking in his dark, Caledonian heart. Fingers tight as he tackled the stairs. “Marco isn’t exactly your biggest fan.”
I hummed, but that was all the wit I could muster before we claimed the bottom step and entered the kitchen.
“At last!” Carina simpered. “I thought I was going to have to send your boy up the stairs to collect you!”
From a gloomy corner, Marco huffed. Not bothering to protest Carina’s implications, his unblinking sneer was for me, and me alone. Long fingers spinning his weapon over and over and over in his lap as he watched me through a slitted glare.
One glance was all it took. One fleeting instant of eye contact with the soldier, and I remembered.
Everything.
Knew just what it was to slip into his bones as if here were an ill-fitting cloak and not a man. That I’d taken something that wasn’t mine and made it into a weapon. Corrupting him as I’d filled him with my unquenchable lust for vengeance, only to set him loose on another he’d likely called friend.
An elite had died beneath a storm of his fists.
I could still feel the splatter of gore clinging to his cheeks.
Carina shifted a basket to her opposite arm in such a way that made a generous bulge of cleavage spill over the front of her dress—both nipples threatening to pop free of that distressed fabric. And with a sniff, she looked the captain up and down, tossed a sheet of silky, black hair over her shoulder, then said, “Asher, darling, I thought I asked you to change?”
“You did,” he agreed, tone pleasant, despite the obvious crackle of confrontational tension in the short sentence.
She sighed. “No matter. You’re free! It’s a beautiful day,” she purred, approaching with a seductive roll of her hips. “All you need is a gentle feminine touch, and you’ll be back to your usual charming self in no time. Move, slave,” she barked, and bumped me out of the way, so she might take my place at the captain’s side.
I staggered, careening into the kitchen island, my hip cracking off the countertop before Asher caught my wrist in strong fingers. Steadying me.
Marco watched down the length of his nose, but made no move to intervene. Seemed almost… disappointed that I hadn’t fallen hard enough to split my skull wide open and stain the tiles with spilled brains.
Even without my gifts, I knew what loathing looked like.
“Goodness, she’s frail,” Carina said, cutting the captain off before his curled lip and thunderous glare could manifest into a seething temper. “Thisis the golden priestess who killed a general?” She laughed, pressing her breasts against Asher’s chest. “Oops. Pardon me”—she tittered—“allegedly.” Bold, ignorant of the tempest building in her betrothed, she caught my wrist and inspected the subtle glow with an intent frown. Fingering the skin gleaming with the evidence of the captain’s unique power. “That’s new,” she murmured. “Beautiful, the way you control her, Asher. Impressive, as always. I’ve never seen anything like it, among any of the others. But then, you’ve always been exceptional, haven’t you?”
“Shall we be going?” the captain asked, jaw tight. Muscle dancing, and if I listened hard enough, I thought I could hear the sound of enamel being ground into a fine, furious powder.
“Yes!” she cried, and abandoned her grip on my skin to slip one hand around his waist. “Oh, I’m so looking forward to some private time,” she whispered, and stood on tiptoe to catch his earlobe between her teeth. “Just think of the power our sons will wield,” she cooed, reaching one daring hand between the captain’s legs to fondle his balls. “Conceived while their sire was bound tothegolden priestess? I already have several marriage offers.”
A tinkling laugh grated at the back of my skull, and I almost asked if I was required to be present for their creation, or if I could volunteer for the Lieutenant General’s suppressor cuffs after all. But the lure of a meal was enough to silence me, even when Carina said, “They’ll be the most coveted elites in the emperor’s arsenal! And we could start today—”
“Marco,” the captain barked, nostrils pinched white. “Bring the coach around.”
13
