Binding Ties (5 page)

Joseph normally kept a tight hold on his anger. It didn't serve him well in his position of leadership. But right now he was furious, his blood heating with more
than mere lust. He knew it was a mistake, but she got under his skin, and before he could stop himself, he was rising to her bait. “I'll show you soft.”

He reached for her, planning to grab her hand and force her to feel his body. Sure, he spent long hours behind a desk, but his body was still toned, thanks to a set of kick-ass magical genes and the few sparring sessions he managed to fit into his schedule. And even if he didn't have a genetic advantage, he never would have let himself go soft and weak. Too many lives depended on him being able to protect them with fast, brutal violence when needed.

Before he could so much as wrap his fingers around her wrist, she darted away, scurrying out through his office door. “Don't you touch me. Don't you ever fucking touch me.”

Joseph immediately realized what he was about to do and let his hand fall to his side. “I'm sorry, Lyka. I lost my head for a minute. It won't happen again.”

“Damn right it won't.” She inched down the hall, backing away from him. “Let me teach the class or not—I don't care anymore. If you want those kids to die, then it's on your head, not mine. I've done all I can unless you get out of my way.”

Once she was out of reach, she turned and ran, her skirt flying out behind her.

Joseph went back to his office and slumped into his chair. He wanted to run after her so badly his guts ached, but he knew that if he did, he'd probably just freak her out more. Though, honestly, he wasn't sure how that was possible.

Had something happened to her that made her detest being touched? Or was it just Joseph she didn't want touching her?

That thought was like a kick in the balls.

He scoured his memory for some kind of pattern, and it became clear that it wasn't just him. She didn't let any of the grown men touch her.

The list of things that might make a woman skittish like that wasn't very long, but it was grim. Just the idea of someone hurting her was enough to make his hand stray to the hilt of his sword.

He needed to talk to Andreas. Find out what had happened to her so he could . . . what? Help her heal? Keep her from panicking? Warn the other men to stay the hell away from her?

He liked that last one. Too much.

Jealousy was a bad sign that his attraction to her had gone off the rails somewhere. It was one thing to think she was beautiful or even sexy as hell. It was a much different thing to want to possess her all for himself.

Not going to happen,
he reminded himself for the hundredth time.
Put your dick in a drawer and get to work.

His dick didn't cooperate, but he moved to the next stack of demands waiting for him and went to work.

Tomorrow, when she was calm, he'd apologize again for losing his temper and reaching for her. He would find some way to appease her so she could be happy here and maintain the peace between their peoples. And, last but not least, he would learn to look at her without wishing his cock was buried in her as deep as it could go.

Somehow.

It took less than fifteen minutes for him to realize that tomorrow wasn't going to be soon enough. He couldn't concentrate knowing she was upset. He had to go to her now. Make peace.

He shoved away from his desk and the mountain of work waiting for him and went to find Lyka.

L
yka shivered, hugging herself as she huddled against the inside of the door to her moonlit suite.

Joseph had almost touched her.

His hand had been only inches from her wrist—so close she could feel the heat of his skin and a warning tingle of danger.

She scrubbed at the spot, but it did nothing to erase the memory of that strange sensation. It did even less to remove her from the danger that lurked here inside the plush, comfortable surroundings of Dabyr.

She knew what that tingle meant. She'd heard the stories all her life about the way Theronai recognized their mates. It wasn't through scent, like her kind, but through touch. When skin met skin, a man and woman could both feel a buzzing tingle that told them they were compatible—that the woman would be able to wield the power raging inside the man. That's when he would claim her. Collar her. Tie her to him irrevocably for the rest of their lives.

Lyka didn't want that. Not with Joseph. Not with anyone. She wanted to be with her own kind and choose a Slayer mate.

Or none at all.

She was tired of having the men around her decide what she could and couldn't do. Even her brother, who was enlightened for one of their kind, still believed in the old ways. He still believed he had a right to use her as a tool to end the war with the Theronai. He even had the gall to say she should be happy to be so useful—that she was saving the lives of their people by staying at Dabyr and behaving.

As if. Behaving wasn't her strong suit, and he damn well knew it.

And look where it had gotten her. She'd nearly been touched tonight by a man who could uncover her secret and destroy her life. If word got out that her mother had diluted her Slayer blood by screwing one of the Athanasians, no Slayer would want her. There were strict laws about breeding among her kind, and the children resulting from unapproved unions were often shunned. Sometimes even exiled.

She couldn't see Andreas doing that to his own sister, but it would be his right. No one would question him.

Maybe that's what he'd been trying to achieve by sending her here. Maybe he'd intended for her parentage to be discovered so she'd stay here and he wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. Heaven knew she hadn't been as easy to get along with as her mother had warned her to be.

Another shiver of fear raced through her, stealing all her warmth. What if Joseph had felt that tingle, too? What if he knew what she was and was on his way here right now to demand that she give up her life and start flinging magic around like some kind of freak?

It was possible. Terrifyingly possible.

A soft knock sounded on her door. “Lyka?”

Joseph. He was here, and the only reason she could think he'd come was because he knew what she was. Her secret was out. Life as she knew it was over.

Fear expanded in her chest until there was no room left to breathe. She tried to fight it, but her mother had warned of this moment far too often for Lyka to think she'd escape unscathed.

Don't let them know what you are, sweetheart. One of their kind will claim you and never let you go. You'll belong to the enemy. A slave to their power. Forever.

She couldn't let that happen. She'd seen the way Theronai women looked at their mates, dreamy-eyed and docile. They might have access to untold power, but the cost was far too high. No power was worth a lifetime of bondage to the enemy.

Lyka was a Slayer. She would always be a Slayer. No amount of tainted blood could change that.

“Are you in there?” asked Joseph. “All I want to do is talk. I won't even step inside.”

She didn't trust him. It was a trick to get her to open the door. He
knew
.

Fear grew inside her chest until it became a living, breathing beast. It trembled through her limbs and forced a sour sweat to form on her skin, making it go cold.

The animal in her reacted to that fear, rising to the fore. Her teeth and fingernails began to burn and lengthen. Even though her suite was dark, everything became as clear as day as her feline eyesight kicked in.

She could see the pale, soothing colors, along with the soft contours of the furniture her captors had provided. Small personal items dotted the space—gifts given to her to lull her into a sense of false peace.

They wanted her to trust them. Become one of them.

The taste of blood filled her mouth. The hair on her body stood on end, and a desperate growl surged up her throat.

She couldn't let him know that she was capable of shifting. Not only was it forbidden to tell outsiders that her kind was regaining their powers, but a sudden shift toward her tiger form might also end up being her only hope. The advantage of surprise might be the only thing standing between her and death once the Theronai decided to break the tenuous peace between their peoples. When that happened, she'd be trapped with the enemy. Her hidden strength and speed might be her only means of escape.

She tried to fight the shift, but she'd never been in control of it. Her Slayer side had always come out to play at the worst possible moments.

“I'm not leaving until you at least tell me you're okay. I can't stand the thought that I upset you.” His voice was quiet, low, and sexy as hell. She could smell his scent leaking beneath the door, hear his strong heart beating on the other side of the wood.

She wanted to open it for him. Let him in. Taste him.

No. That was her animal side—instinct and emotion. She couldn't let it take over, not when there was so much at stake. The animal in her would want to kill him or fuck him. Possibly both. She had to lean on her Theronai side now and use it to keep her from making a disastrous mistake.

All she had to do was let him see the ring-shaped birthmark on her arm, and he'd know exactly what she was. No more worries. No more hiding. He'd claim her for his own and end all the fear of being found out. As desperate as the Theronai men were for mates, they might not even care that her loyalty would always lie with her own people.

She scrambled away from the door and curled into the smallest space possible.

“I can hear you breathing, Lyka. I know you're in there.”

She held her breath, but all it did was lock his scent inside her nose. She could feel it becoming a part of her, tempting her to just let go. Those sword-roughened hands of his would feel so good sliding over her naked skin. As tough as he was, he would be able to take it if she got a little carried away with her claws and teeth.

Just the thought made her moan.

“Lyka? Are you hurt?”

She ached. Wanted. Hungered.

This wasn't normal for her, not even during a full moon. She was always a little more easily aroused during that time, but she'd never felt anything like this before.

This
was what she'd heard her kind talk about.
This
was the need.

“That's it,” he said. “I'm popping the electronic lock on your door if you don't open it.”

She dug her claws into her palms, struggling for control. She closed her eyes to block out the moonlight. All her focus went into the pain until nothing else mattered. She let it consume her world, and reveled in the sharp sting.

Slowly her body eased and the storm passed. Her hair settled and lay flat once again. Her teeth and fingernails returned to normal.

She took deep breaths in an effort to calm her nerves. The next breath she pulled in smelled like Joseph—a combination of leather and steel, spring rain and lightning.

“You're hurt,” he said, only this time his voice wasn't muffled by wood. He was inside her dark suite, crouched less than two feet in front of her.

His fingers were clenched into fists, as if he had to struggle not to reach for her. The magical, iridescent necklace he wore shimmered in the moonlight bathing her suite. His gaze was on her bloody palms, and concern ridged the skin between his brows.

She looked at her hands, realizing just how deep the wounds went. “I'll be fine in a minute. I just need to wash the blood away.”

He held out his hand. “Can I help you up?”

She looked at his wide palm, easily twice the size of hers. Scars crossed his skin as proof of the battles he'd survived. Pads of rough flesh showed evidence of his work with a sword. He didn't reach for her or try to hurry her. Instead he stood there, patiently waiting for her decision.

She'd never wanted to feel a man's hand wrap around hers before. And she'd sure as hell never wanted to accept an offer for help. She didn't need help. From anyone.

Why, then, was she so desperate to feel his fingers wrap around hers now, when she knew how high the stakes were?

“I won't hurt you,” he said, his tone the same one he reserved for speaking to frightened children.

Lyka shoved herself up with her legs, using the wall at her back to support her. She didn't want him to know just how unsteady she was on her feet, how much his presence had affected her. The second she could, she turned her back on him and inched into the kitchen to wash the blood from her palms. Her skin had already begun healing, thanks to her Slayer genetics.

“How did you get hurt?” he asked from behind her.

“Paper cut.”

“You don't want to tell me? That's fine. But keep in
mind that it's my duty to see to your safety for as long as you're in my care. If I think you're at risk of getting hurt again, I may have to assign one of my men to guard you.”

The idea turned her stomach. The last thing she needed was some brooding Theronai all up in her business. “No, thank you.”

“I wasn't asking for your permission. Tell me what happened.”

Her chin lifted in defiance. “It's none of your business.”

Joseph started typing on his phone.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Texting Morgan Valens to come and guard you against further injury. You won't so much as get a hangnail while that man is glued to your side.”

She barely resisted the urge to grab the phone away and smash it into a wall. “You have no right to treat me like a child.”

He gave her a level stare. “I have every right to see to your safety. If I don't make sure you stay in one piece, then how can I expect your brother to do the same with my daughter? He holds her life in his hands. I didn't want things to turn out that way, but, like you, I wasn't given much choice. We're both just going to learn how to deal.” He paused with his finger over his phone, presumably about to send the text that would end her last shred of privacy.

What did it matter if she told him what had happened to her? Slayers were private people in general, choosing to keep to themselves, but if outing a few family secrets was going to help sell him on leaving her alone, then it was worth it. Besides, it was Andreas's rule about not spilling the beans on her ability to shift. If he hadn't wanted her to give away family secrets, then he shouldn't
have sent her into their enemy's hands. She had to survive here. If that meant breaking one of Andreas's precious rules, then so be it.

She let out a long sigh, wondering how Joseph was going to make her regret what she was about to divulge. “I assume you're aware that we Slayers have been breeding with humans for enough generations to weaken the gene pool?”

“Yes. Andreas has put a stop to that, from what I understand. He placed strict laws around breeding.”

She didn't comment on that. Better to stick to what was already public knowledge. “Centuries ago, Slayers could all shift into their animal form. Now . . . not so much.”

“That's one of the reasons Andreas wanted the treaty. He needs the help of the Theronai and Sanguinar to help protect those of your kind who are too weak to defend themselves.”

“Even the wimpiest of our kind could kick your ass in a fair fight all day long, so don't go getting a big head.”

He held up his big hands. “Wouldn't dream of it. But how does that explain what happened to your palms?”

“My family comes from a long line of purists. Andreas's father and my mother didn't have their bloodlines diluted as much as most of the others.” It was more her mother than his father, but her stepfather always claimed all the credit for winning the genetic lottery.

“So, you can shift?” Joseph asked, sounding impressed.

“-Ish. I don't go all the way, and I have absolutely no control over it, but yeah. I can shift—just enough to get me into trouble, mostly.”

“And that's what happened now?”

She nodded.

He took a step toward her, and his arm twitched like he was going to reach for her hands. He stopped himself. “Does it hurt?”

She hadn't felt a thing since his scent had invaded her head. Whatever cologne he was wearing was lovely, powerful stuff. “I'm fine.”

“I could get one of the Sanguinar to look at your hands.”

“No,” she said too fast. “I mean, no sense in bothering them. I really am fine. Speedy healing, remember?”

He stared at her for a long minute. His hazel eyes surveyed her as if he was taking mental notes of her condition. She squirmed under his scrutiny, but even as she did, her skin began to warm and tingle.

This man wreaked havoc on her peace of mind. He was dangerous in the same way that playing with matches near broken gas lines was. One false move, and she knew everything she'd worked to protect would go up in flames.
Kaboom.

“It's late,” she said. “I really should go to bed.”

His pupils flared wide at her statement. She could smell a faint thread of lust trailing from him.

He wanted her.

Some deep, primal part of her woke up and stretched. A slow, steady burn started low in her belly and began to spread.

Lyka stumbled away from him, nearly falling over her own feet. “You should go now.”

His mouth flattened and his wide shoulders seemed to droop. “Are you sure you don't need a guardian to keep you from hurting yourself?”