I want her.
I want to fuck her until she cries out my name, until every echo of her old life is washed away by sweat and pleasure and the sound of her voice in the dark hollows of this place.
But she’s not ready for me. Not yet.
With my warriors, I issue orders, and they obey. But Elena’s submission would not be enough, even if she would give it to me. And I know she would not. Her outraged face flashes through my mind.
Time. I need time to think. Just a few moments.
I veer right, down a side corridor, and duck into a smaller vault. One of the original containment suites. Built before we engineered control.
I set her down on her feet. She staggers, fists raised, but I don’t touch her again. The blue glow of the chamber paints her skin in something like moonlight. It sharpens every line of her face, making her eyes look impossibly dark and beautiful. They are the soft brown of a gentle creature, but they are full of rage.
“Is this where you’re going to keep me? Until what—until I beg you to let me out?”
Her voice is hoarse from her screams. I hold her gaze. I want to kiss the anger out of her, fuck her right here in this chamber. But I don’t move. I can’t speak without feeling like I will lose the last thread of control I have.
She balls her fists tighter, arms trembling. She views this as punishment rather than protection.
The Concord Stone’s mate bond has not given me strength. It stripped my armor off, one layer at a time, and left only the throbbing, desperate need to possess and protect her in equal measure. I would kill anyone who touched her, but I would tear out my own throat before I harmed her.
I back out of the vault while I still can. I press my hand to the stone beside the door. The surface ripples, then slides closed. I punch in the time-seal, ten minutes. I hope it’s long enough for the mating urge to ebb. For her anger to ebb. The bond only tightens.
I brace my hands against the living stone outside her door, every inch of me trembling with rage and want. The jungle outside reacts, offering to absorb, to store the power it shares with me. But nothing will blunt this.
I stand here, panting in the hallway, a predator locked out of its own den. I left her inside because I was the dangerous thing.
Once, finding a mate was simple. Male fought male, and the female went to the victor. That was before Xytheos. Before they started engineering us for something other than war.
We rulers of Xytheos are supposed to be disciplined. But my cock is so hard it aches, straining against armor and discipline both.
I let my forehead rest against the door. She looks at me as though I am a monster. Maybe I am. But the monster wants to keep her, not break her.
I drag in a ragged breath, holding back more than my urge to mate. The Reach itself wants to close around her, to show herevery secret and root. The plants in this fortress are only a sliver of my power. Out there, in the Green, I could crack open the world if I wanted. But inside, I’ve always kept it quiet. Subdued. I must maintain the balance of Xytheos.
I listen to her through the door, the way her footsteps circle, then slow, then stop. Even her silence has an intensity.
I make myself think like a biome lord, because the alternative is opening this door. Vorak. His warriors came armed for far more than an accusation, and he will not stop at one attempt. The Stone gave him a Starfallen Bride of his own, and still he reached for mine. I think of the friend Elena screams for. Sophia. Vorak is old code, but I am certain that if the Stone gave him a Bride, he will be like the rest of the biome lords. Unable to harm a female. And if he found a way around that, he knows the High Lord would order him killed for it. Finally. And yet my own bride insists that Sophia is in distress.
My own bride is in distress, and yet she is perfectly safe.
There is too much I do not understand.
Even the Concord Stone itself has changed. It speaks inside Elena. It presses inside me, louder than it has been in all my centuries. The Stone was never a voice before. I called it a hand at my throat only as an expression. Now the hand is moving. Vorak's complaint is already lodged with the Council. Contact between Starfallen is forbidden. There will be trouble from the Council. Later. The Council moves slowly. Vorak does not.
So. The problem, stated plainly—I must make Elena want to stay. I must teach her to obey our laws, because here, obedience is survival. She will fight me on both.
She will fight me in everything.
The mate bond pushes on my mind, sending me images. I can almost taste her on my tongue. My body demands I go to her, now. Take her, claim her.
I want her.
I want her more than war, more than victory, more than any female I have ever been near.
Her fury excites me, but I cannot take her if she doesn’t want me. I am matched for life with one who rejects me openly. Rejected by the one with whom the Concord Stone has promised offspring.
Now, the images that flash through my head are sharper, meaner, and far more desperate. I see her naked, spread on the soft mats of the Mating Chamber, hair tangled, skin flushed. In my mind, she arches her back, calls out my name, her legs locked around my waist. I fuck her until she cries with pleasure.
