Warlord's Mercy - Cynthia Sax Page 0,52

bid her.

But this might be their final fuck…for a long duration, perhaps forever.

“I want to see your face, my Warlord.” She yearned for that so much, she dared to argue with her dominant male.

As she predicted, he wasn’t pleased. He narrowed his dark eyes at her.

“This might be our last time.” A ball of emotion formed in her throat. “And I don’t want to miss a moment of it. I want to watch you as you come, as you—” Her voice broke.

His jaw clenched. He looked away from her.

Had she displeased him that much?

“Tolui.” She splayed her fingers over his pecs. “I—”

“No.” He captured her wrists. His grasp on her would leave bruises, that prospect pleasing her. “I told you I would return for you.” His voice boomed. “Yet you doubt me, your Warlord. You don’t deserve to touch me.”

Stars. She trembled, her nipples tightening more. He was a force.

And he was hers.

“I don’t doubt you, my Warlord.” She sought to clarify her tumultuous feelings. “I doubt the future.”

“I am your future.” He lay her on the sleeping support. “When you doubt it, you doubt me.” Her angry male stretched her arms above her head. “Move your hands—” He pressed them against the surface. “—and you won’t walk for three planet rotations.”

During any other rest cycle, she would eagerly incur that punishment. She relished his rough palms on her tender ass. But he was furious with her, and at sunrise, she wished to accompany him to his ship, add more memories of her Warlord to her hoard.

She kept her hands where he’d placed them.

“Stay still.” He partially extended his claws. The beams from the portable light sources reflected off the deadly tips, spotlighting the danger looming before her.

A tremor of wanting rolled over her form. Her Chamele clone would never hurt her more than she desired. She knew that in her soul, trusted him completely. The mere possibility of peril was sufficient to arouse her.

“You’ve been a bad female.” Tolui’s eyes gleamed as he skimmed his claws over her cheeks, along her neck, circled first her right breast and then her left, leaving trails of sweet hurt, never once breaking her skin. “Look at your chest.”

She complied with his command. He’d decorated her with pink lines, the markings as intricate as those she incorporated into her garments.

They would eventually fade, but she would always remember herself like this, a stretch of blank fabric embroidered by her Warlord’s hands, a one-of-a-kind work of art.

“When you doubt me, gaze at these marks.” He stroked her stomach with his claws, the teasing pain sending shivers along her spine. “You belong to me and only me.”

“I’m yours.” She spread her legs, seeking to appease him.

He bent his head over her right nipple. “You’re mine.” Her Warlord clamped his mouth around that delicate flesh and bit down. Hard.

Lea cried out. The hurt was too acute for her to remain silent. Yet she craved more of it. Her spine bowed. She pushed her curves against his sharp teeth.

That branding would be more permanent. It would stay with her longer.

“You’re only mine.” He licked the droplets of blood on her skin.

His emphasis on being her only male was unnecessary. She loved him, had never met anyone she cared for, desired as much, as she did him. She doubted she ever would.

He was everything she could ever want in a mate.

And he was a possessive being, would never share her with another. She knew and adored that about her Warlord. There would never be another male for her.

“I’m yours, only yours.” She met his gaze, allowing her love for him to show.

He stared at her for one heart-pounding moment.

A sexy growl rolled up his chest. “I will kill anyone who touches you.” He lowered his lips and marked her left nipple the same way he adorned her right.

“Yes.” She shrieked her agreement, approving of his vow, recognizing his lethal promise. It was a battle to keep her hands where they had been placed, to not grip his head, hold him to her breast, force him to prolong the exquisite agony.

But she remained still because she was strong. She would be worthy of his branding. Her fingers linked together. Her back arched.

He retracted his claws and held her shoulders down while he laved her with the flat of his tongue, sealing his mark on her. She wiggled and moaned, savoring the heat of his mouth, the roughness of his flesh, the strength in his clasp on her.

“These breasts.” He