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Authors: Cathryn Cade
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eyes widened with alarm. “Slyde! You can’t fight him. Not only is he royalty, those men of his would kill you for touching him. They’re warriors, not just court followers.”
He bit back the retort that not only was he of royal blood himself, but his brother dragon could take them all on and win. A growl of frustration rumbled in his chest.
She lifted her own hand to touch his face, concern deepening the hue of her eyes. “Slyde, swear to me you won’t think of doing such a thing.”
The touch of her hand inflamed him. He wanted those clever, capable hands all over him. “Persuade me.”
Sirena slipped her other hand around the back of his neck and urged him to bend his head to her. She tipped her face up to his, her eyes drooping. Arousal heating his blood, he set one hand on her waist and cocked his head, waiting for the touch of her lips on his. Why had they not kissed before this? Now that it was imminent, he felt as hungry for her lips as a starving man for food.
Her lips brushed his. Her breath puffed softly against his skin as she spoke.
“If he kills you, you’ll never have me,” she murmured. And slipped away.
He blinked. He nearly grabbed her and hauled her back into his arms to take the kiss she had so teasingly denied him. But she was watching him, ready for just such a move. He could easily best her, but would such a move persuade her that he was the male for her?
“Not much of a persuasion, siren.”
“We’ll call it a warning—much like yours.”
He bowed in acknowledgement of the hit. “I need a workout. I’ll meet you on the mats.”
Chapter Ten
Sirena sagged against the padded wall, gasping for air. Slyde leaned over, hands braced on his knees, broad chest pumping like a bellows. They had gone from a ferocious session of sparring with dummies to a run around the gymnasium’s moveable obstacle course. It had become a competition. What Sirena lacked in sheer strength, she made up in agility. But now both of them were spent.
“Is that all you’ve got?” He cast her a look from under his brows.
“Huh. I ran circles around you.” She panted. “I’ll show you how to better that twist kick, if you like.”
He straightened, still breathing heavily, and looked down at her. In the brief singlet they wore to train, he was magnificent, his heavily muscled body displayed to perfection.
“Is that an invitation, Commander?”
She snorted, lifting her arms to push back her hair, ignoring the fact that she wanted to lick the satin skin on the massive column of his throat. Although Serpentians didn’t sweat, their skin glowed when heated by exertion or ambient temperatures. His smooth skin was nearly luminous, especially where the pulse beat in his throat. She was surrounded by his scent—musky and tantalizing, smoky. Maybe she should just trip him and jump on him while he was down.
“When I issue an invitation, a man knows it.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it—several times.”
She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “And that bothers you, doesn’t it? Why?”
His face tightened, and suddenly they were two alpha predators, facing each other, battle ready.
“An invitation means little when it’s open to all,” he grated.
They glared at each other. Then she thrust out her breasts and tilted her hips, a taunting pose that contrasted sharply with the molten rage inside her. She made no secret of her pleasure in men, but she gave equal pleasure in return. How dare he act as if she were in the wrong.
“Sanctimony also means little when it is prompted by jealousy,” she hissed. Turning on her heel, she stalked away into the women’s locker room.
She refused to admit that the tight, icy ball lodged high under her ribs was hurt.
Slyde stood there, breathing as hard from anger and frustrated passion as from his workout. Damn the woman. Could she not see that he only wanted…
He gave a snort of humorless laughter. That he only wanted her glory all for himself? That as a Dragolin,
He bit back the retort that not only was he of royal blood himself, but his brother dragon could take them all on and win. A growl of frustration rumbled in his chest.
She lifted her own hand to touch his face, concern deepening the hue of her eyes. “Slyde, swear to me you won’t think of doing such a thing.”
The touch of her hand inflamed him. He wanted those clever, capable hands all over him. “Persuade me.”
Sirena slipped her other hand around the back of his neck and urged him to bend his head to her. She tipped her face up to his, her eyes drooping. Arousal heating his blood, he set one hand on her waist and cocked his head, waiting for the touch of her lips on his. Why had they not kissed before this? Now that it was imminent, he felt as hungry for her lips as a starving man for food.
Her lips brushed his. Her breath puffed softly against his skin as she spoke.
“If he kills you, you’ll never have me,” she murmured. And slipped away.
He blinked. He nearly grabbed her and hauled her back into his arms to take the kiss she had so teasingly denied him. But she was watching him, ready for just such a move. He could easily best her, but would such a move persuade her that he was the male for her?
“Not much of a persuasion, siren.”
“We’ll call it a warning—much like yours.”
He bowed in acknowledgement of the hit. “I need a workout. I’ll meet you on the mats.”
Chapter Ten
Sirena sagged against the padded wall, gasping for air. Slyde leaned over, hands braced on his knees, broad chest pumping like a bellows. They had gone from a ferocious session of sparring with dummies to a run around the gymnasium’s moveable obstacle course. It had become a competition. What Sirena lacked in sheer strength, she made up in agility. But now both of them were spent.
“Is that all you’ve got?” He cast her a look from under his brows.
“Huh. I ran circles around you.” She panted. “I’ll show you how to better that twist kick, if you like.”
He straightened, still breathing heavily, and looked down at her. In the brief singlet they wore to train, he was magnificent, his heavily muscled body displayed to perfection.
“Is that an invitation, Commander?”
She snorted, lifting her arms to push back her hair, ignoring the fact that she wanted to lick the satin skin on the massive column of his throat. Although Serpentians didn’t sweat, their skin glowed when heated by exertion or ambient temperatures. His smooth skin was nearly luminous, especially where the pulse beat in his throat. She was surrounded by his scent—musky and tantalizing, smoky. Maybe she should just trip him and jump on him while he was down.
“When I issue an invitation, a man knows it.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it—several times.”
She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “And that bothers you, doesn’t it? Why?”
His face tightened, and suddenly they were two alpha predators, facing each other, battle ready.
“An invitation means little when it’s open to all,” he grated.
They glared at each other. Then she thrust out her breasts and tilted her hips, a taunting pose that contrasted sharply with the molten rage inside her. She made no secret of her pleasure in men, but she gave equal pleasure in return. How dare he act as if she were in the wrong.
“Sanctimony also means little when it is prompted by jealousy,” she hissed. Turning on her heel, she stalked away into the women’s locker room.
She refused to admit that the tight, icy ball lodged high under her ribs was hurt.
Slyde stood there, breathing as hard from anger and frustrated passion as from his workout. Damn the woman. Could she not see that he only wanted…
He gave a snort of humorless laughter. That he only wanted her glory all for himself? That as a Dragolin,
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