She yanked free.
He pivoted, eyes blazing like silver flames. Still holding the branch away from them, his other hand wrapped around her nape, and he dragged her close. His scent and intense masculinity enclosed her. His gaze fell to her lips. Then his head lowered, missed her mouth, and he whispered against her ear, “Want me to show you just how unmonk-like we are, sweet Leya?”
His unshaven jaw brushed against her face in a sensual caress. Torturously slow, his lips stroked the shell of her ear, causing all the blood in her to pool south.
Her breath hitched. “No.”
“Wrong answer.” He nipped her earlobe.
She slapped her palms against his chest to push him away, but his tongue curled around her stinging lobe, and he sucked the pain away, stirring her to a needy ache.
God.She bit off a groan before she revealed just how much he affected her. There was something dangerously seductive about him right then, the straight-up proper guy she met nowhere in sight. And damn, if she seriously didn’t want to climb this sexy mountain of peril.
He drew back, jaw hard, but his eyes burned like silver flames as he let her go and released the branch at the same time. It thwacked upward and shuddered at its sudden freedom, the limp leaves releasing droplets of warm water, hauling her out of the sensual haze.
Breathing hard as if she’d run a marathon, Leya collected her fallen parka and sweater from the wet ground. The air stirred, and she snapped upright.
Several huge males took form, surrounding them.
Oh, shit, not again. Rebels?
But this group didn’t have hammers and swirls inked on their brows. They possessedhairof varying lengths and colors. All wore sleevelessblacktunics with open plackets, pants, and boots. Leya eyed them warily. Hell, they were armed with swords as tall as them.
Another gang? With all the enemies Aerén said they had, it had to be.
Just their damn luck.
At their hard stares, dread constricted her.
While she could fight, she doubted a knee in the groin and running like hell would help. This was their world. No matter. She had damn good aim and plenty of nature’s weapons scattered around to use as missiles.
The man with orange and black hair resembling tiger stripes appeared a little older than the rest and seemed to be the leader. He lowered his sword, pressing the tip into the dirt. “We’ve been searching for you—”
“What is it?” Aerén cut him off, his expression flat, still watching her.
Wait, he knew them?
“There’s rebel movement in the southern side of Na’Tol,” another with hair resembling ripened plums added. “Two were also spotted in the town of Shegria.”
Aerén’s entire demeanor changed. No longer the tormenting, seductive male afterher,but a chilling warrior who would kill without remorse. “You have them?”
“Aye,” Plum-hair said.
“Lykon, take Leya to Cidéra,” Aerén ordered. “Her security is paramount.”
“What?” she blurted, panic squeezing every drop of air out of her lungs. “You can’t send me off with a stranger to more strangers!”
“You’ll be safer there. You cannot come where we’re going. Unless you want to get back into the sights of the rebel who’s after you?”
“You think I asked for all of this? For a rebel to come after me?”
“If you’d stayed in your office like I told you to, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Her mouth dropped open, indignation edged with hurt choking her. “I hate you.”
“Don’t care, as long as you’re safe.” He nodded, and Lykon crossed to her, his sword vanishing.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, she cast her gaze away from the infuriating man. She did have some pride left, if only the damn thing had struck before she begged him not to send her away.
