Audience with the Warlord #2
“You're threatening the wrong person, little hacker,” he rumbled. His amber eyes burned into mine. The smell of ozone, sweat, and raw arousal hung heavy in the air.
The tail tip, thick and armored, slid up from my wrist. It pushed under the fabric of my jacket, stroked across the sensitive skin of my forearm, then wrapped with brutal efficiency around both wrists, pressing them together behind my back.
The scales scraped roughly over my skin.
The heat of the appendage pulsed in a steady, heavy rhythm against my pulse points.
I was completely defenseless. Pinned by his body in front and his tail behind.
The tightness in my chest threatened to suffocate me. Loss of control. The icy shackles of the auction flickered through my mind. The sterile room. The chains. I clenched my teeth until my jaw cracked. I couldn't let myself spiral into panic. Not now.
I rammed my knee upward, aiming straight for his groin.
He didn't block the strike. He merely shifted his weight. My knee crashed against his thigh like I'd kicked a concrete wall. A dull pain shot through my leg.
He laughed. It was a deep, vibrating sound that resonated through my own chest.
Slowly, he finally raised one of his massive hands. The sharp black claws brushed across my cheek. A fleeting, almost casual touch that sent goosebumps racing down my neck. His thumb settled on my jaw and forced my head even further back.
“You have fire,” he whispered. His voice was dark, rough, and heavy. “Most collapse on the gravel outside my gate. They beg or cry. You storm my command center, aim at my head, and make demands. I like that. I've been bored for far too long.”
My breath came in ragged gasps. I hated him. I hated the absolute power he radiated. But my rational mind was already working. He was fascinated. Fascination was currency. And Jules was running out of time.
“Three search teams,” I ground out through clenched teeth. My breasts pressed against his hard chest with every breath. The friction sparked an absurd, electrifying heat deep in my core that I ruthlessly ignored. “You have the resources. Get her out of that damn jungle.”
His thumb traced my lower lip, then pressed hard against the soft flesh until my teeth cut into the skin.
“A deal,” he corrected. “My army searches the jungle. General Kael will personally lead the teams. They’ll comb every inch until they find your friend. She gets medical care, food, and a safe place to sleep in the barracks.”
He paused. His amber eyes narrowed. The muscles of his tail tensed around my wrists, pressing my arms another millimeter higher up my back. The pressure was painful, but it didn’t cross the line into injury. It was pure demonstration of power.
“And the price?” I asked coldly. There was always a price. On my homeworld, here, across the entire universe.
He leaned in. His face was only a hair’s breadth from mine. His rough lips almost brushed my ear.
“You belong to me.”
The three words hit like a physical blow to my gut. The old panic rose again, tasted like ash and blood. Property.
“I’m not a slave,” I hissed, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. I wrenched my head to the side, trying to escape his gaze, but his grip on my jaw held me fast.
“Slaves are worthless. They follow orders because they’re afraid,” he murmured against my skin.
His breath was hot. “I don’t need a slave.
I need a challenge. You won’t leave my private quarters.
You’ll warm my bed, chase away my boredom.
Outside in the mining city, you can hack my networks and drive General Kael insane. But in here...”
The tip of his tail slid over my bound hands, stroking slow and deep along the inside of my wrists. The movement was so intimate, so utterly possessive, that my knees went weak.
“...in here you belong to me. No orders from you. No backtalk. You give up control at the door. Completely.”
The air burned in my lungs. I stared into his eyes. He was demanding the one thing that kept me alive. My control. My shield. If I agreed, I’d be putting myself in the exact situation I’d fled from on my home planet. Vulnerable. Dominated.
But when I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see the cold, calculating looks of the auction buyers. I saw a predator who acknowledged my strength. He didn’t want to break me. He wanted to consume me.
And outside in the darkness was Jules. With a laughable blaster against creatures that ripped ships out of the sky.
I swallowed hard. Pride burned in my throat as I forced it down. I held his gaze, refusing to look away. No submission. A tactical decision. A deal.
“If she dies,” I whispered, my voice sharp and deadly, “I’ll gouge your eyes out in your sleep.”
The rumble in his chest returned, darker and rougher than before.
His fangs flashed. His tail loosened its murderous grip around my wrists by a fraction but didn’t release me.
He merely pulled me another inch closer to his hips.
The hard bulge under his black pants pressed against my thigh—an unmistakable, brutal fact.
“Deal.”
He raised his left hand, tapped the communicator on his wrist, and barked a short, guttural command in his harsh language. The command center sprang to life. The holographic tables blinked red. Search teams formed on the screens.
The pact was sealed. My best friend would survive.
And I had landed in hell. A damn hot, purple hell.