Caged Warrior

TWELVE

Leto didn’t knock. He didn’t listen outside the door to confirm his suspicion. He just burst inside. Hinges gave way to the release of his coiled strength.

During his run through the human complex, he’d pictured what he would find. He hadn’t thought to find them so far progressed in Nynn’s subjugation.

She was bleeding from her forehead and chained to a metal-framed bed, which was topped by a flattened mattress. Hunched into himself, moaning, Kilgore held a needle between his teeth. The blood Nynn had shed was nothing compared to the stream oozing out from where her wooden practice knife pierced the man’s forearm.

Kilgore turned. His eyes were huge yellow discs. Even if the man was a grasping snake, he knew when to be afraid. Perhaps that made sense. The lower the animal, the stronger the instinct to recognize imminent danger.

He spit the needle onto the floor where it rolled to a stop by Leto’s boot.

“Leto.” He was quick to recover. Always had been. “We were in the midst of completing our transaction when she attacked me.”

“And you decided to subdue her?”

“Exactly.”

“Chains work.” He smashed the hypodermic beneath his heel. “Drugs are best saved for the lab you came from.”

“You don’t blame me for this. The fault is hers. Surely you’ll punish her.”

“I would’ve been more likely to take your side had you asked. Instead, you tell me how to discipline my own neophyte? That isn’t your decision.”

Leto loomed tall over the man. His anger was well out of proportion with the situation. Although he should be furious at Nynn for doing something so stupid, he was ready to rip Kilgore into pieces and leave his useless carcass. Maybe someone would miss him come mealtime.

Again . . . That realization of his limits. Dragon damned, he didn’t need another unwelcome thought. No matter Leto’s status, dismembering even one as humble as their human chef was prohibited, when a man like Kilgore should be below a Dragon King’s notice.

But Nynn was bleeding. Which meant Kilgore was not beneath his notice.

He yanked the wooden knife out of Kilgore’s arm and tossed it toward the door listing on its hinges. The man’s yelp of pain was satisfying.

“Strip your shirt,” he said.

At Kilgore’s compliance, all hissing agony, Leto ripped the flimsy hemp material into strips. Two minutes later, he’d wrapped an expert field dressing around the three-inch gash in the man’s forearm. Despite his boiling turbulence, Leto tamped down a tight smile. Nynn had cut deeply and with careful aim. Kilgore wouldn’t be able to use that muscle for weeks. Even chained, she’d taken the man’s right arm out of the contest.

He could comment on her technique later. Once she was safe again.

Safe?

Dragon be, he was losing perspective.

“Now come here,” Leto said, voice rasping.

Kilgore raised his brows. The surprise and even the fear of Leto bursting through his door was gone. His rat-sly expression followed every movement. Trying to gain advantage. That wasn’t going to happen. No matter the intricacies of power Leto was only just untangling, he was still a Dragon King. And still a foot and a half taller.

He grasped Kilgore by his scruff and stood him on solid footing. “Stay there. Don’t move. Nynn had a good try, although I’m fairly sure you can serve food with one arm.” Close to Kilgore’s ear he said, “The Old Man would be upset if I killed you, but I wouldn’t be. I’d finish what she started, and I’d make it agonizing.”

Kilgore swallowed. His forehead looked squashed in proportion to the rest of his face. It was slick with sweat. Although he didn’t acknowledge Leto’s threat, he didn’t move either.

Leto turned his attention to Nynn, who lay watching the exchange with an expression of rage. A mirror of his own anger. What the fuck was he going to do with her?

She should’ve broken by now.

That she hadn’t made him proud and furious. He wasn’t a man used to processing contradictions, yet the night had been full of them. Leto knelt before her. Although loath to use Kilgore’s ripped shirt for the task, he wiped the blood off her forehead. Softly. Almost soothingly. As if lulling a child. She’d behaved like a child—one with a woman’s body. But she was a warrior, not a seductress. Otherwise Leto would’ve found them in some state of undress, in a sexual position he didn’t want to imagine. Instead, they’d been bleeding and spitting at each other like cats in a bag.

Kilgore must’ve sensed her potential for violence. He usually liked his girls complacent but conscious. Leto would admit to admiring her technique with the knife later, but he’d also grill her about letting a little man get the jump on her.

Then he’d spend hours making sure it wouldn’t happen again.

Her punishment, however . . . that was his priority. What came to mind made him ill, but maybe it was just what had to happen. He needed to bust into that stubborn skull of hers. Kilgore would help, only under Leto’s watchful eye.

She winced.

“That hurts?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Imagine what pain you’d be in now if he’d got hold of you.”

“No telling.” Her eyes darted to the metal drawers in the corner of the room. “Tranquilizers or something like them. From Aster’s lab. What I felt would depend on the drug.”

He took her chin in his palm. Met her eyes. Pale, silvery blue was turbulent and fraught with emotions Leto wasn’t sure he’d ever felt, let alone all at once. “You’d have felt every cut and bruise and violation once you awoke. If you did.”

That focused her. Good. If she couldn’t see the consequences of a mistake, she would be useless to him. And she’d get herself killed.

“As it was, I think you were trying to accomplish something underhanded. Kilgore specializes in that. He asks a great deal in return for some favors.” Leto held out his hand. “The letter, Nynn.”

Her steady stare meant she was getting better at hiding her emotions, but he felt her thigh jump where it pressed against his.

“I could strip it off you,” he said. “Just like I stripped contraband off your cell guards. I thought I’d let you keep a little dignity. For the moment.” He flexed his fingers. “Hand it over.”

“How did you know?”

“Because you’re a clever woman.”

Her manacles rattled as she dug into her tunic. He was familiar with that sound—the sound of life in the complex. But the tinny, hollow sound of handcuffs against the metal bed frame sent a shiver of unease up his back. Had he been only a few minutes later . . .

She retrieved the letter and handed it over, her eyes churning with hatred.

It smelled of the peppermints from the butcher paper she’d used. Unceremoniously, Leto ripped it into pieces. “And that’s that.”

“Bastard.”

He gripped her chin with much more force. Now that she was no longer in danger, he had the luxury of letting his anger return. Full. Powerful. “We have two days left before our first match. And another pair of matches in the months to follow. You will fight with me. Or would you rather forfeit your son’s life? Here you are, risking his safety, believing the lies this creature spins. Or maybe you intended to chance an escape. Where would you go, idiot girl? Maybe since you’ve been free of your child for a few weeks, he’s no longer a concern.”

Nynn lashed out—within inches of wrapping her manacle chain around his neck. He caught both wrists. So much proof of her redoubling skills would be something to celebrate later.

“Nearly there, neophyte. What would you have done after you caught me?”

“Enjoyed watching your eyes bulge.”

“Would’ve been fun while it lasted?”

“Very.”

“Too bad, then.” He slipped two fingers between her collar and her neck, then jerked her close.

He kissed her.

And just as he’d expected—Dragon be, just as he’d secretly wanted—she fought back. Kicked. Twisted. Tried to wrest free of his hands.

The slow softness of their first kiss was some distant dream, something that had taken place between two different people.

This . . . this was who they really were.

Of course he enjoyed it. Her spark and fire had been his to observe and nourish for weeks. But his enjoyment wasn’t the goal. For a moment more, he indulged in the feel of her. Strong but lithe and feminine. Hot. She tasted of blood, although he knew that couldn’t be right. Maybe it was because she made him that crazy. Bloodlust. Needing an outlet.

He pushed her down against the floor. Arms, legs, torso—she was a thin, chained woman, which meant she was easy to pin, no matter her fight. Leto levered above her, stomach to stomach, and held her writhing body in place. His own body was hard. Rock hard. Strung tight and wanting and demanding. Against the dictates of his mind, he found himself thrusting his hips, seeking the tender flesh that would slake the tension he’d battled for weeks.

He forced his tongue into her mouth. Grinned when she bit him. One swift move and he cupped her bottom jaw with his palm. The throat was such a vulnerable part of the body. Her gasp of surprise—she had no air now—was a sick invitation for Leto to take more.

He wouldn’t.

He reined in his screaming, aching needs. Breathing hard, he was needy in ways he hadn’t felt in years and years. Maybe ever. He was stretched to the point of breaking and couldn’t afford that luxury.

His turmoil was nothing compared to the fury on Nynn’s face. The streak of blood on her forehead and the streak of his blood on her mouth. Her hair a spiked tangle. Her tunic ruched over one hip, which bared a sliver of golden skin. She looked as disheveled as if she’d just been fucked by a group of men.

He would do murder before he let that disgusting scenario come to pass.

In truth, she’d only been kissed by one Dragon King. By him.

Leto growled low in his throat. He had to get this done before his imagination and his lust got the better of his plan. Because he did have a plan. Successful Cage warriors took bars of steel and bent them into the weapons needed for victory. Nynn was just such a weapon. He still needed to bend her to fit his needs, for both of them to thrive.

Through it all, Kilgore had stood transfixed. The greed in the man’s wild eyes was as obvious as the bulge between his legs.

“Take down your pants,” Leto told him.

Kilgore blinked.

Nynn shrieked, fought harder, and managed to land a solid punch against Leto’s temple. He ground out a curse and hauled her up to her knees. After trapping her manacled wrists at the base of her spine, he caught the back of her collar with his free hand. She was as trapped as when he’d pinned her against the floor. Only now, her mouth was level with Kilgore’s pathetic erection.

Pants down, the man was stroking himself.

“What the fuck is this?”

“This is your punishment, neophyte,” Leto said against her cheek. “He would’ve taken you. You’d have been awake, or tranquilized, or even asleep, but you never would have left this room before some part of him was in some part of you.”

“You ripped up my letter.” Again, her voice was flavored with emotions Leto couldn’t parse. Fear, yes. Disgust. Pleading? She even backed up, as if being closer to him would protect her—even though he was the one holding her immobile. “What else do you want from me?”

“I want you to continue your negotiations with this human slime.”

She squeaked when he gave her collar a shake.

“Tell me, Nynn,” he said. “You planned more than asking him to deliver a letter. You planned to escape. And you were going to give this man favors in return.”

Her hiss held the sinister potential of a gas pipe and an open flame. “Are you not hearing me? Every single day? I have to save my son!”

“Two steps closer, Kilgore.”

“Hurt her,” came the man’s lust-roughened voice. “Fight her again.”

“Shut up, unless you think I couldn’t hack through any part of you with her practice knife.”

Kilgore only moaned as he worked himself. “Yes, sir.”

Nynn’s eyes were watering. The back of her head was pressed against Leto’s breastplate. Her gaze never left Kilgore’s throbbing little cock. The man’s expression was one of absolute, entranced pleasure.

“And you haven’t been hearing me,” Leto said softly. He was restraining her in the most violent, most vulnerable hold he’d yet used, but he’d never spoken to her with more compassion. “Nynn, you are here now. You will become a Cage warrior because you have reason to. Because they’ve taken every other choice away from you. Because they will never let you succeed any other way.”

She twitched her shoulders, then pounded her head against his armor. A sound of pure frustration reverberated around the walls of that tiny room.

He beckoned Kilgore even closer. “The alternative is to let men like this use you. To become a victim. You were a victim when they killed your husband and took you and your son.”

A sob ripped out of her chest, but he didn’t think it was because of the situation. “I tried,” she said, almost soundless. “Caleb was dead before I knew what was happening. Blood sprayed across the refrigerator. Jack’s mouth was covered in masking tape. They used a Taser on me, covered my head with a hood, and zip-tied it into place. Late on a Thursday evening. We’d ordered a pizza. But in thirty seconds, they destroyed my whole life.”

“Here, today, you put yourself in the position to be a victim again.” He nudged her temple with his chin. “Look at him. The man is disgusting. You’re a Dragon King of the Tigony, on her knees. How will this save your son?”

“You could let me go. You could help me find him!”

“That would mean the deaths of my sisters and my niece. I can’t let that happen. We do this together. We fight as one. Or you open your mouth right now and take your chances with this man.”

Kilgore was out of breath now. His eyes were glassy.

“Go ahead, Nynn. Give him what you were willing to give. Taste him. Let him thrust into you.”

“You are sick.”

“It’s what you were ready to do. Forget fighting in the Cages. Forget showing the Asters exactly what you can do. No, instead, you’d let this toad fuck your pretty face on the chance that he’d hand-deliver a letter to the Giva, or open a magic door that set you and your boy free. Give it a try. Now’s the time.”

“What would you do if I did?”

Leto was swinging between the arousal of holding her trembling, infuriated body and the revulsion of forcing her into such a position. All he knew was that even then, as helpless as a woman could be, she was still fighting. She was a fighter. Forget her clan. Forget that she’d married a human. For Nynn of Tigony to do anything less than destroy her enemies was an insult to her potential and their kind.

“I would be disappointed,” he whispered. “And you’d make Kilgore very, very happy.” She gagged when he tightened his grip on her jaw. “So open up. Show both of us what sort of woman you really are.”

She snaked a leg out and around. Not the most effective angle, but it was enough to catch her boot behind Kilgore’s ankle. One quick tug landed the man on his back. She slammed her elbow toward Leto’s ear, and he let her have that small victory.

Quicker than any human, but slower than any member of Clan Garnis who remained free of the collars, he jerked her to her feet. She gasped.

“Now,” he said, his breath rough against her cheek. “A trade.”

Kilgore writhed on the floor. She watched him as if keeping an eye on a venomous insect. Dangerous, but vulnerable. She nodded slightly.

“You’ll walk out of here with me. Very calmly. No more fighting. Otherwise the guards will wonder what the hell happened. Bribes and intimidation will only work for so long.” He grinned. “And in exchange, you get to let loose one more kick.”

Sputtering, still dazed, Kilgore began a pleading sort of moan. He cupped his withering erection and doubled over himself. “Leto. No. Think of what I do for you! Your matches! You’d never know who’s coming up next.”

“And won’t that make it more interesting.” He nestled a cold smile against Nynn’s temple. Her pulse was manic, but she’d stopped struggling. “Do we have an agreement?”

“I don’t get a say?” Kilgore bellowed.

Nynn relaxed, then nodded to Leto. “Agreed. If you hold him down on the bed.”

Leto exhaled slowly. Trusted. And let her go. She didn’t run and she didn’t try to strike him. The measure of faith they’d given one another in that moment was priceless.

Yanking Kilgore into place was no great task. Leto was happy to do it.

Rather than kicking the man, or stomping on his face, or whatever manner of violence Leto could imagine, Nynn calmly walked to the chest of metal drawers. She retrieved another syringe. Her expression was fierce. Only her silvery blue eyes gave her away. Leto was surprised he could read her vulnerability so plainly.

“Time to go to sleep, Kilgore,” she said sweetly. The needle slipped so easily into the vein on the back of his hand. “And when you wake up, you can wonder what I wondered for a whole year. Just what was done to me while I was drugged? I bet your cock is the first thing you check.”

Kilgore thrashed and cursed . . . then slid into unconsciousness.

Leto raised an eyebrow. Not the choice he’d expected.

She met his gaze. “You gave me enough room to kick my leg free.”

“Yes.”

“And you let me get the drop on you—when I hit your temple.”

“Yes.”

“You’re still a sick fucking bastard.”

She wiped the blood from her lip. If anything, her posture was straighter, prouder than Leto had ever seen.

Had she learned a damn thing?

She was impetuous and thought too far ahead of him. Her imagination was more developed than his would ever be—except in matters of combat, when he thought three steps ahead of every opponent. She had no sense. She showed no due deference to the tasks laid out before her like a path. Why would she? Glaring, her wide-set eyes dared him to try again, to make her a victim resigned to her fate.

Resigned.

He would never associate that word with her—his lethal neophyte.

Then why did the word weigh so easily, so heavily, in his own mind?