Page 42 of Warrior's Reign
His mouth slammed down on hers. Shefelthis internal crack, or was it her own? Reign opened her mouth, shoving her tongue between his teeth. Strained against his hold even though she knew that if she really wanted to fight him, she could. He pressed her further into the wall, the hot, hard line of his body a silent demand. Taking, punishing, seducing.
Her body lit on fire, the throbbing between her legs translating to the fine tremble that ran up her body, through her arms to the hands that he trapped so effortlessly. And under the touch of his skin, jolts of energy. A prickle of awareness, of something stirring.
He stepped back, releasing her. Stabbed her with a look. “Am I false now? Take the words back.”
Her mouth felt abused. Her core screamed for more abuse. If this was how he kissed. . . but as the haze of lust cleared, it left her somewhat shaken. This was Vykhan. She couldn’t stand his ass. And yet his scent, his heat, it all felt so familiar. Like an untended ache. Like a bruised memory.
“I apologize,” she said.Fuck you.
Vykhan took another step back. “Soon.”Unless you’re ready now. Who is therealcoward?
Something undefinable swelled in the air. Reign felt as if they were on the precipice. . .
And she stepped back. Was aware he let her. Something slid through his eyes, then was gone, banked.
Her First said nothing as she walked to the door, proud she maintained a straight line. If she’d said the word, he would have taken her right there on his desk. It wouldn’t have been sweet. It wouldn’t have been gentle.
Vykhan. . .was hiding another side of himself. Hiding it well. But she saw it, even if she was certain no one else did. They were all fucking blind.
“Reign.” She paused as the door slid open. “You may report my lapse in conduct to theBdakhunif you wish. It is your right.”
Hand on the threshold, she glanced at him once. “Sugar, the day I can’t handle a boy like you is the day I burn my grays.”
He didn’t smile, but challenge sparked in his eyes. “I’ll see you at 0400.”
Reign understood the offer. In the morning they could pretend like this never happened.
* * *
She collapsed on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
“Where are you?” she murmured, then closed her eyes and dreamed of a tall male cloaked in gray. And woke, cursing, when the faceless male morphed into Vykhan.
* * *
“Damn,” Reign swore.
Her back pressed to his chest, arms locked underneath a grip so inescapable she felt a moment of fear. If she ever found herself on the wrong side of Eredan’s Silence, she’d be toast. He’d fooled her completely with that feint, a sequence of Forms designed to lure the stupid into volunteering to be killed.
She’d fallen for it.
He released her after a moment and Reign stepped away then turned. He stood, arms folded across his chest with an air of patience.
It was this patience that had caused her to finally name him. He couldn’t tell her his real name, and Numar refused, so she’d smooshed the Beysikan term that meant something along the lines of ‘patient friend’ into something vaguely Earth Standard sounding, and came up with a name.
It wasn’t like he could protest. And after she’d explained herself, he’d begun to answer when she called him.
“Do you want to tell me how you did that?” Reign asked.
He tilted his head. Under the silk mask she saw the faintest movement that could indicate the curving of lips. Unfortunately, hair didn’t provide much of a body cue. His spilled over his shoulders, loose today. But most Yadeshi had this silken waterfall of black, so his identity remained safe.
He spread his arms, flicking his fingers. Reign scowled at him. His shoulders shook slightly, then he shrugged and gestured. She followed him to a bench where he picked up a tablet, swiping to a file then handing it to her. Reign sighed and read the heading.
The Fool’s Feint. A maneuver designed to trap the opponent’s expectations against them. The idea being to project one thing so convincingly they believed it and you could use their belief against them—or as a double feint when you really wanted them to do the opposite.
“Alright,” she said when she was done. “Let’s see if you can trap me again.”
He did, three more times. Reign lay on her back in the sands, a familiar enough position, damn him.
