Caged Warrior (11 page)

L
eto probably should’ve kept her bound.

She pulled against his hold, wincing in the process. “What is this, some version of
underground barbarians’ seduction?”

“Seduction?”

“You drag me out of my room in the middle of the night.
Alone
.” She clawed at his hands when he wouldn’t release his hold on her hair. “Might as
well be a Neanderthal dragging me to his cave.”

Her words rocketed through his body, just when he’d thought his desires were under
control. “I intend nothing like seduction, neophyte. Or anything else you imagine.”

Shutting down his acute senses was as much a skill as using them. Rather than indulge
in her scent, her gasping breaths, and the way her body still hummed with the energy
of her exertions, he pushed a hard clench of desire down to where he locked every
selfish impulse. He would bust through the bricks she’d stacked around herself. She
could keep her physical armor, but he meant for nothing to remain between her mind
and victory.

Leto released her hair, gave her one more look up and down. She held her body stiffly.
Straight back. Tense limbs. He couldn’t tell if she was truly confident and waiting
for his next move, or poised on the edge of terror. He wanted her snarling, not anticipating
the worst. Maybe that was the drawback of working with a woman so fresh from the labs.
Yes, she was resilient. She also flinched too much for his taste. Only in the Cage
had he seen her shed all doubt and use her past as a weapon.

A radical idea took shape in his mind, unlike any he’d ever considered. Then again,
he’d never been permitted three short weeks to bend, break, or understand a neophyte.
And he’d never trained a woman like this. All he’d managed from Nynn was a semblance
of obedience and augmented physical conditioning.

She expected him to treat her like a piece of meat in a lab.

She expected more pain. More degradation.

She did
not
expect choice.

Although she still glared, Nynn had stopped struggling. Fatigue showed in every feature.
The slackness of her brow. The deep purple crescents beneath her ice blue eyes. The
tight pinch of her upper lip. She pushed herself hard, and her ability to recover
from injury and physical stress had increased since the first outburst of her power,
but that seemed to be waning. Just his luck that she’d be as vulnerable as a human
by the day of the match.

The goal was to train her, even if that meant dredging up some gentleness. Maybe it
wasn’t a matter of busting through brick defenses so much as slinking through their
cracks.

He walked toward the bench where he’d left the food. And sat. “I promised a ration.
Will you come eat?”

Wariness altered her features. She was beautiful. More than that, she drew the eye.
Even if Leto hadn’t been charged with her care and training, she would claim his attention.
That wariness, however, made her look younger—more like how she must’ve appeared among
the humans. He didn’t like reminders that she’d once had a life beyond the walls of
the complex. In part because that life was obviously holding her back. In part because
he didn’t want to sympathize with what she’d lost. In part because he never dealt
well with things he couldn’t understand.

Fighting. Feeling the burn of muscles well used and injuries on the mend. Soaking
in the balm of applause. Bedding a woman who took his victories into the primal vessel
of her body.

Leto knew those things.

And he knew that even the wariest creature eventually responded to food and a soft
voice.

Nynn rubbed her face, then the back of her neck again. She assessed the arena, her
eyes blue on silver on suspicion. Then she shrugged.

“What was that for?”

She walked toward him with defiance in her steps. Moments of doubt . . . gone. “You
could hold out your hand and offer me food, then take it away. In the scheme of risk
and reward, this has more potential for reward.”

“Too many words for a caveman like me. Does that mean you’ll eat?”

“Only if you tell me if that was almost a joke.”

“Almost.”

And she almost smiled. A different sort of awareness eased over Leto’s skin, then
deeper, into his bones.

Still graceful despite her fatigue, Nynn sat beside him on the bench. “Sandwiches,
eh?”

“Plan on being picky, woman? Just shut up and eat.”

That was definitely a smile. Her mouth was small when compared to her other features,
but she used it well. Small, straight white teeth and curving lips. Nothing too overt,
but the effect was devastating. Her eyes lit with amusement. The freckles across her
nose and the apples of her cheeks held his attention as they did every time.

She opened the wrapper and began to eat, as he’d commanded. An apple, a sandwich made
from rough wheat bread and cold ham, and a large portion of almonds. Protein for fighting.
They sat in the arena, which felt cavernous when used as a simple dining facility.
They took up so little space in a place where Dragon Kings trained to be larger than
life.

He wasn’t used to feeling small.

After glancing toward Nynn, he stopped hesitating and flat-out stared at her profile.
The haircut he’d forced on her was uneven, but the short, spiky style suited her.
It was aggressive and showed off the strong line of her jaw. She had small ears, which
came to a subtle point at the top.

“Is this the price for my food? You staring at me?”

“Not at you. Just your ears. Like a pixie.”

“You don’t seem the sort to wax poetic.”

“I wasn’t. Legends of fairies and pixies originated with Clan Pendray, their Celtic
mysticism and Highland
secrets. Just wouldn’t expect a feature like that on a Tigony.”

She shrugged again, but the movement was tighter. Definitely defensive. Possibly lying.
Leto’s senses flared to full alert. Mentally, he pushed past the barrier of the collar.
Extending. Reaching out.

“So you’ve met every Tigony?” she asked.

“No. Just never met one I wanted to study so closely.”

Nynn whirled her face toward his, then backed away. “Really? Don’t start.”

“You’d rather I be like the other men here? Those workers in the mess hall, who sneak
around corners to catch a glimpse of you? Because I won’t do it.” He stroked a finger
along her jaw. She flinched. When he did it again, and again, she closed her eyes.
“If I’m going to stare at you, you’ll know it. And I won’t apologize for it.”

Tension pulled her mouth into a grimace. His senses expanded yet again. He could detect
pheromones, tiny tremors, the prickling of her hairs beneath his touch. Finally, he
detected the change in her breathing. She relaxed. Minutely. Not like sleep, but that
place of calm just before drifting off.

“You’re making me proud,” he said roughly.

Dragon be, where had that come from? He’d been more frustrated with her than pleased,
right from the start. And even if his words were true, he wasn’t in the habit of praising
neophytes.

“I don’t want to make you proud.” Her voice was whisper soft. Her eyes remained closed.

“I know what you want. And you’ll have it. You resist me at every turn, but we work
toward similar goals. Tell me that you understand that much.”

A shuddering exhale bowed her shoulders. She didn’t pull away. “You want to stay here.
I want to escape so badly that I’d chew your leg off for the possibility. How is that
similar?”

Leto cupped her shoulder and stroked damp, bare skin. The strength contained within
her lithe limbs was heady. He’d thought about the obvious. They would fuck. Body on
body. Rough hands and even rougher satisfaction. He’d never thought about touch.

Maybe because touching like this—soft, urging—was something he’d never thought to
use when indulging in a woman.

“Think nearer to today.” He dipped his head. Gave her time to back away. Made her
aware that, yes, he meant to kiss the shoulder he held. “What do we both want in one
week’s time?”

His lips met her salty flesh as she whispered what he’d needed to hear. “To win. We
want to win.”

“
That
didn’t make me proud,” he said against her skin. “That was pure pleasure.”

The kiss didn’t end so much as shift. Farther up her shoulder. Past the metal collar
that kept him from tasting her throat. He settled his mouth against the hollow just
beneath her jaw. Sipped her. Inhaled the perfume of her body. Goose bumps raised in
the wake of his lips. Too tempting. He flicked his tongue to smooth them away.

Nynn lifted her face to the ceiling. She gripped the bench with both hands. Wearing
nothing more substantial than her underclothes, she breathed quickly. Her chest lifted
and lowered. This flimsy cloth, already so near to mimicking the contours of her breasts
and her flat stomach, was a weapon only a woman could wield.

Memories overlaid his present state. Only in his small room did he think back on how
she’d appeared on day one. Elegant and bold, frightened and clumsy from the cold.
Through the centuries, tales of goddesses in possession of untold beauty had been
inspired by Dragon King women.

Nynn was Venus made real.

She silently taunted him until, alone in his quarters, he took cock in hand and stroked
as hard as he would thrust between her thighs. Or she would follow him into dream
where she smiled, opened for him, and took his full, hard length into her mouth. In
those dreams-like-nightmares, he didn’t put as much force behind each deep drive of
his hips. The pleasure was in seeing how much she could take. How deep. How fast.
And how long he could hold out before losing his mind.

Lust stiffened his cock and snapped his limbs taut. Anticipation, desire,
want
. He tilted her stubborn chin and brought their lips close. A whisper of air between
them. If she touched him, she’d ignite him as surely as she’d blown holes in his armor.
But she didn’t, with her knuckles still bone white as she clutched the bench. This
was submission—to a point. It certainly wasn’t participation.

He’d been working toward her participation for weeks. Only now, he had two goals.
They were interwoven in his mind as surely as their limbs would twist and wind together
when sharing his bed. They would win their match, and Nynn would be the woman he chose
as his reward.

Her heavy-lidded eyes fluttered, trying to open. “Stop touching me.”

He did. Hands off.

Just before he kissed her.

She gasped into his mouth—the only place where their bodies met. Lips slid over lips.
She stiffened. Leto wouldn’t have expected otherwise. But she didn’t pull away. Again
he thought of a wary creature coming to him by shy steps and little gestures. Victory
was a long way off when taken at such a slow pace.

Yet what a victory.

She moaned softly. She opened to him. She nipped his lower lip between her teeth.

It was Leto’s turn to moan. If she meant for the delicate blend of sweet and raw to
drive him mad, she succeeded. Without thought, he had slowed to her pace. His tongue
pushed inside. He angled his mouth over hers, taking her kiss and taking everything
he wanted—all at half speed. Quarter speed. The agonizing slowness still sped his
blood, fast, faster, just as his gift could power his body around a Cage. He dragged
her taste into his mouth, pulled her scent into his lungs.

That deliberate, aching kiss tested all he was.

How much control could he give up?

How much pleasure could he find in holding back?

He’d never asked either question. But then, he’d never kissed a woman when he was
so certain she’d hurtle out of his grasp at any moment, even if that grasp was simply
the magnetism of their exploration. Not his strength. Not his skill. He held her by
no concrete means.

With the same aching slowness, he withdrew. That whisper of air settled between their
mouths again, cooling his lips. He had kept her awake when she needed
sleep. He had fed her an unaccustomed ration. And he had spoken soft words.

He petted one finger along her jaw, lifting her chin so that their eyes met, and realized
how well he’d played the moment. Her blue eyes shimmered with an iridescent glaze,
where desire mixed with relaxation. She probably hadn’t known its like for more than
a year.

She was, in effect, what he’d intuitively needed her to be: Receptive. Pliable. Open.

“Nynn,” he said against her cheek, “do you want to use your powers?”

“I don’t have . . .”

“You do. Now tell me the truth. Do you want to use what resources you have? To win?”

She shuddered. “Yes.”

“Why do you resist?”

A blink changed the color of her eyes, from iridescent to ice. She appeared even more
vulnerable than during their kiss. He expected her to rear away from their intimacy
at any moment. She would realize exactly where she was, who she was with, what she
was doing. And she’d take her softness away.

Stay.

He shoved the disconcerting plea away. Far away.

“Dragon damn you, Nynn.” Only, his curse was a whisper. “Make this possible for both
of us.”

“I can’t remember some things. Parts of my youth. Just like I can’t remember when
I used them, in there.” She glanced past him, toward the practice Cage, as if it was
the enemy. “How is that possible? It’s all blank.”

Telepathic block.

In an instant, Leto knew it was true. He and his siblings had all required blocks
of varying strength. Coming into one’s gifts could be difficult—or even impossible,
as in Pell’s case. Telepathic blocks from powerful Indranan, those Heartless monsters,
were sometimes the only means of survival.

No one could come into a gift like Nynn’s without trauma.

“Memories can be restored,” he said. “You know the methods.”

Nynn flinched as if slapped. Her eyes clouded. She shoved against his shoulder, away—just
away. Any distance seemed good enough.