Frost to Dust by Myra Danvers
14
Isquealed, reacting only half as fast as the captain.
Abandoning my ass, wrenching my lips off his swollen prick, he shoved me into the deeper part of the bathing pool for an instant before I was drawn back and spun. My ribs clamped tight between his thighs, his cock twitching against my spine, he slipped one arm around my shoulders and covered my nipples with his forearm.
Submerged to my collarbones, I couldn’t so much as blink when his influence seized me in a painful fist. The gold pumping through my veins forced me to sit utterly still. Rigid. Arousal frozen in my veins, despite the horror of seeing just who’d invaded this moment.
General Tilcot.
Murky brown eyes penetrating the surface of the bathing pool, the general inspected every exposed inch of me he might claim. Already naked, but for the fluffy white towel slung loose about his hips, he grinned and said, “Asher, my boy, sorry to interrupt!”
Amplified in the small, wet room, the general’s voice vibrated inside my chest and I flinched. Pressing deeper into the captain’s embrace.
“Then leave,” the captain snapped, absent any hint of respect for his superior.
“Come now,” the general cooed, dropping his towel and splashing into the warm water before I could do more than glance away. “Don’t be like that, boy. We’re family.”
The captain laughed, though it was an acidic, humorless sound. “Only when it suits you.”
“I hope you’re not still bitter about the paid leave and all the many, many allowances I’ve made for your safety, despite your flagrant disregard of protocol?” the general returned, condescension a thick ooze that spilled from his lips. And when he got no response, he issued a deep, theatrical sigh. Scooping up water in his big hands, he splashed it over his face and scrubbed at a very slight shadow of facial hair. “You must understand this was done for your own good. I’m trying to protect you and the girl.”
Fingers tight enough to bruise, the captain hauled me closer. Enough that I could feel the tension humming through his thighs, where I was bracketed between them. “I think I can do without your brand of protection, Harper.”
A wicked gleam illuminated those murky depths, and the general smirked. “And if you’d killed our wildcat on the battlefield? Before her power could be understood or utilized? What then?”
“If you’ll recall,” the captain said, his cultured drawl forced through tight lips and clenched teeth, “I was following your orders. You wanted her tested on the field before she’d even been assessed. Before Sasha even had a chance to evaluate her power and assess the risks.”
“Well, now who’s to say?” The general grinned. “I suppose, it really comes down to the word of a decorated general, or that of a captain of the special forces who’s been taken off duty while he tries to get a handle on the priestess he claimed without permission. A girl labelled ‘dangerous’ by the leader of her kind. And you should know, cousin,” he added in a light, carefree tone, “there’s a case to be made that she be removed from your care entirely. The capitol is considering the merits of giving her to someone more… experienced in the care of exceptional priestesses. After all, training an empath has never been done before, and given the potential the girl has shown, it would seem a risky endeavor to allow her management to be mishandled by an inexperienced soldier of insignificant rank.”
Sensing the trap for what it was, the captain said nothing.
But I felt his reaction. What went unseen, still filtering through the shield with nothing to throttle it. Elite energy surged behind my ribs, a storm of possessive rage seething and spitting as the captain watched the other without blinking.
Utterly still, but for the thrashing of his heart and mine.
“You think I don’t remember what it’s like to take a priestess for the first time?” the general asked, spreading his arms along the rim of the pool to display an impressive wingspan and slabs of heavy, rippling muscle. “To be drunk on that sort of power?” He chuckled, inspecting me through a slimy grin. Seeming to take no notice of the tempest building at my back. “There’s no parallel for such a gift, to say nothing of their tight little Tritan cunts.”
The captain went rigid. His muscles going stiff where he held me locked in place. Arms a tight, protective band capable of leaving bruises marking me as his.
His to corrupt.
To control and stain.
“She’s a drug, boy.” Poised, cocky and confident, the general shrugged. “One that’s clouded your judgement with the sweet taste of pussy and power. But they’re all the same. Whores who need a firm hand and a fat cock.” He glanced down, into the water where he grew thick with the promise of a brewing fight. “It’ll take more than one to break her spirit. To kill the part of her that dreams of rebellion so you can fill the empty space with the behavior of your choice. She should be given no rest until she’s well and truly broken in. Not so snug anymore, perhaps, but”—he made a face—“flawless obedience has its price. Besides, it won’t be long before there’s a new generation up for sale.”
“Fuck off, Harper,” the captain snarled, and surging upright, he brought me with him before I might react to that sentiment. Instead I hung stiff from his arms, gold pumping through my veins in a show of the captain’s influence. His desperate need for control that bled into me. “I don’t need you to tell me how to train my slave.”
“If that were true,” the general cooed, “wouldn’t she be trained already?”
To this, the captain had nothing to say. Merely marched me toward the exit in a shower of sloshing water and naked flesh.
Straight into the general’s path, though it couldn’t be helped.
A rough palm landed on my navel. Fingertips splayed from hip to hip, the general’s touch sent a screech to flounder and die in my throat. Caught and murdered before it was ever given life.
“I could make it an order…” General Tilcot murmured, and murky dark eyes slid up. Over my nudity, bypassing my face, to find the captain’s furious glare where it simmered over my shoulder. “I could command you to leave her here, with me, and no one would question it. Some might even wonder why I’ve yet to take over. And who knows,” he continued, fingers curling in to scrape at my reddened flesh with blunt nails. A threat that almost brushed the top of my hairless mound. “Perhaps she is different. Enough that she’d be of more use in the program as a bree—”
“We’re done here,” the captain snarled, and all but hurled me from the pool. Following me out to the sound of boisterous, cruel laughter.
“Of course you are, boy.” Turning, the general folded his forearms and set his chin atop corded muscle. Coy, as he floated and watched. “This has been your pattern since you were a child. Always have to have the last word.”
“See, now that’s where you’re wrong.” Running a towel over my skin, the captain was rough. Hands shaking, he completely ignored my feminine charms in his haste to be gone, dragging rumpled pants over wet skin. “I’m leaving before you make a challenge I can’t ignore. And,” he tossed his shirt over his shoulder and turned to face the other elite, “I don’t want your unborn child to grow up fatherless.”
And with that, the captain threw open the door—the last word claimed as his.
It was my mistake to turn and look.
To make eye contact with the Caledonian general lounging in a pool of steaming water. Chin set atop crossed forearms, all shoulders, tousled hair, and tranquil muscle, he lifted the fingers of his left hand. Smirked, and gave me a dainty little wriggle that sent chills scampering down my spine.