Chapter One
KHALIDA
House Azaes Arx, Egypt
Hot lips trailed along Khalida’s collarbone as sharp incisors scraped her skin, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to make her bleed.
Warmth washed over her as he held her in place. Heat pooled between her thighs. She was supposed to be on duty.
The sandstone wall dug into her back, reminding her where she was, half hidden in an ornate enclave that led to the oversized balcony. The hall she was currently in the process of being fucked in was one of the smaller reception areas within the main building, normally rarely used.
Except for this week, the influx of Atlanteans visiting the Arx—the ancient Atlantean fortress—meant that privacy was at a premium. Anyone could walk past and peek around the column they were behind.
The knowledge added to the warmth flooding through her. She clenched her thighs together, but that wouldn’t stop him from scenting her arousal. Damn Atlantean heightened senses—there was no hiding her desire when he was this close and the reason she was about to orgasm.
All she had to say was one word, and it would stop. But she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Her body was in fight or fuck mode.
And he was a hot and willing body.
Just one time. If she got it out of her system, she would go back to the way it was—when he was only a footnote in her memory.
In the distance, the distinct echo of two sets of footsteps, followed by a set of feminine giggles, penetrated the fog of her brain.
The intruders stopped mid-step and turned around before quickly scurrying out, their chuckles growing louder and more audacious before the heavy wooden doors banged shut, and Khalida and her mistake in the making were once again alone.
Not that the extra set of eyes would have stopped her, or him.
Her eyelids fluttered close, letting the bright sunlight caress her skin from the oversized, multicolored stained-glass window above them, as heat spread through her body.
A slight breeze blew the dark-green curtains away from the French pane door, revealing a bright lush oasis—the interior courtyard of the Arx.
She had gone there to think in the quiet, away from anyone else, not to be fucked senseless.
His gravelly laughter sent another wave of warmth through her.
He held her up against the stone column.
His hand wrapped around her neck and his leg positioned hard between her thighs, with enough pressure against her core that if she moved, the friction would send her over the edge.
His body covered her from anyone’s view, not that it would stop them from recognizing her distinct silver hair and uniform.
“I can see you have added exhibitionist to your kink list. I approve.”
Khalida hated him with the passion of someone who had loved him with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. Someone who would have gladly set the world alight to walk next to him. Until he had walked out. But she was no longer the young na?ve Atlantean anymore, and he no longer held her heart.
His other hand brushed up along her torso, setting her nerve endings on fire when he traced the line from her navel, along her stomach, to her seam with just enough pressure, but her body needed more.
He tightened his grip around her neck. Tiny pinpricks of pressure stole her breath.
He knew exactly what her body loved. Her wrist throbbed in time with her heart.
She didn’t need to look at it to know the consort mark was slightly brighter than it had been a week ago.
Just like his would be. The intricate, triple spiral yellow tattoo covered most of her left wrist, and for centuries had been dormant.
Until he had come back to Egypt. And re-triggered the connection.
Black eyes, the color of obsidian, blazed down at her, filled with lust and a hint of obsession.
She wanted to scratch his perfect face. Or stab him with one of her swords. Her favorite sword was less than two feet away from them.
His warm lips grazed her ear. “Say my name.”
She struggled, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Douchebag.”
His laugh vibrated through her as she rolled her hips, trying to force him to move.
But he was like a wall, solid and unmovable.
At six foot three, he was only a few inches taller than her, but somehow, he made her feel small.
He reminded her of a dark-haired Viking god who had fallen to earth.
With his dark olive Mediterranean skin, full lips, sharp cheekbones and tricolored brown, red, and blond hair.
He gripped her hip, his nails digging into her flesh through her black uniform.
She was so fucking wet, she was surprised she wasn’t dripping through her underwear.
“Kiki,” he said.
She hated that name. He was the only one who had ever gotten away with calling her that. At one point, she had found it endearing. Now she wished she’d had the foresight to stab him when they first met. It would have saved them a lot of trouble.
“Fuck me or let me go,” Khalida demanded.
“My name, Kiki. I want to make sure you know who is making you scream.”
His fingers danced over her pussy with enough pressure, even through her clothes, that she was chasing the high, but it stayed out of reach.
She bit her lower lip, reminding herself that her body wasn’t reacting to his touch specifically. It could have been anyone, and she would still be in the same situation.
He licked her collarbone, the oh-so-sensitive spot that almost made her orgasm instantly.
She clenched her legs together in response.
He was aware of the reaction she would have.
It had been more than five hundred years since he had touched her.
And now with the whisper of a caress she was ready to fall apart.
She. Hated. Him.
“I’m waiting.”
Fuck him. Khalida pushed him away. Her body screamed in protest.
He didn’t budge, instead he grabbed her wrists and placed them above her head, pinning her to the wall. “We both need this, Kiki. This once. Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll stop.”
In the moment of stillness that followed, she couldn’t deny it. Blatantly lying to prove a point was not something she would resort to. “I...one time only,” she breathed.
He violently pulled at the zipper at her front and dragged it down toward her hips, before he slid the matte black skintight uniform off her shoulders, leaving her barely any ability to move.
Unclipping the front of her sports bra with deft fingers, he brushed over one of her brown nipples and then the other, instantly hardening them even more.
Cold air hit her, but it didn’t cool her down one bit, instead just flamed the burning desire running through her.
Goose bumps exploded all over her as he slowly looked her over.
She forced back the memory of the time when he used to look at her like she was a goddess.
Desire spread through her as her body ached to be touched.
She lifted her chin and glared back.
“I could never decide what I liked more—your perfect tits or your pussy.” A wicked smile spread across his face as he cupped her breast, flicking her nipple.
Khalida’s breath hitched as she arched her back. The uniform was too constricting, the material designed to protect her body in a fight, not to be easy to slip out of.
He lowered his head, hovering over her. Waiting.
She gritted her teeth. “Talik.”
“Now, princess, was that so hard?” Talik asked as he slipped his hand under her uniform and circled her clit leisurely, applying just enough pressure to make her hips buck.
Her body was on fire, aching to have more, but nothing she did made him increase the pressure or the speed.
Barely enough, it made her want more. She tugged, trying to dislodge her hands, but Talik held firm.
Princess was an insult when he said it; and he knew it. A title that had been stripped from her because of him. “This changes nothing.”
Talik tsked, ignoring her words. “So very wet and very pretty.”
It’d been so bloody long since she had indulged in anything personal, or let herself focus on just her.
Talik was relentless in his leisurely pace, as if he was in no rush and was enjoying exploring her body.
And she was so damn close. She shut her eyes as she let herself forget who she was, and she focused on Talik and what he was doing to her body.
Playing her like a maestro. A sheen of perspiration coated his darkly tanned complexion.
“Are you going to come for me, princess?”
Her belly clenched as she tried to focus.
Pleasure screamed through her as he continued to play with her clit, his fingers slowly penetrating her.
First one and then another one and a third, stretching her until the pleasure was tinged with pain.
She looked down, sweat beaded her light brown skin.
He cupped her. His calloused fingers probed her entrance.
Her clothes felt painful against her skin.
She whimpered as her nipples hardened even more, and blood rushed through her as her legs gave way.
He caught her before she fell, and she stupidly clung to him, wrapping her hands around his biceps, trying to control her breathing or gain back the control she’d lost. One of his powerful arms was around her waist as he anchored her body against the column.
His fingers never stopped. She edged closer as she arched, giving him more access to her pussy.
“Make me come.” She wanted to make it sound like an order.
But it was too husky, filled with unmistakable desire.
Instead, she sounded like she was begging.
But she was too far gone to care. Lust coiled through her, pain and pleasure entwined like a switchblade kiss.
He nipped her collarbone, and a soft tingle rushed through her, threatening to send her to the stratosphere.