“If I take something else…they’ll kill me, Strider. After they ensure I feel every bit of pain they have felt.”

She believed what she said. The truth glistened in her eyes as surely as a sheen of tears. “I’ll protect you.”

“Don’t make me state the obvious about what you can and can’t do,” she said with a bitter laugh. “I could run, sure, but what kind of life is that? And what if they go after my sisters when they’re unable to find and punish me?”

Good point, and one he couldn’t—wouldn’t—shake her from. He tried another route. “No one has to know you took it. We’ll get in and get out, no problem.”

Sad, she shook her head. “Wouldn’t matter if I left evidence behind or not. If the Rod goes missing, they’ll blame me no matter what.”

“So?” he said again. He had to harden his heart.

“You know nothing about Harpy justice, Strider. There is no trial. There is no innocent until proven guilty. If I’m suspected, I will be hunted, I will be tortured and as I said, I will be killed.”

“I’ll protect you,” he repeated, and that was the truth.

She arched an auburn brow. “You’re going to make me state the obvious, but okay. You can’t.”

That isn’t a challenge. “I can.”

“You’ll protect me from an army of Harpies who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt everyone you love to get to me? An army of Harpies who would help the Hunters if it meant punishing me?”

Shit. “What do you propose I do then, huh?” He stalked to her, gripped her upper arms—she felt so fragile, so vulnerable—finally shaking her as he’d wanted to do for so long. Every movement wafted her scent to his nose, cinnamon and sugar, a feast for his senses. His mouth watered, his blood heated. “What? Tell me.”

Her heartbroken expression never wavered. “What you originally came here to do. Act as my consort. I will fight, and I will win the Rod. Honorably.”

“I thought you didn’t do honorably.”

She peered up at him through narrowing eyes, indignation at last replacing sorrow. When her lashes fused together, he was strangely glad to see the silver swirling underneath, no hint of gold. “In this and only this, I do. Too much is at stake,” she added, mirroring his thoughts. “Not just for me, but for my sisters.”

Win.

The Rod? Dude, I’m working on it. A little space would be nice.

Win!

I know, damn you! “What if I… Shit.” He released Kaia to scrub a hand down his face. As many battles as he’d fought during his long life, he could sniff out a dead end before he turned the corner and spied the brick wall. They were at an impasse, and he knew it. She wouldn’t budge—unless he changed the stakes.

“Do this for me, and I’ll sleep with you. Okay?”

For a moment, she gave no reaction. Then a squawk parted her lips and she batted him away from her. And by “batted” he meant that she used so much force, he actually spun around, unable to stop himself.

“How magnanimous of you.” An instant later, she was in front of him again. She shoved him, hard, and he stumbled backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. “To offer up your body when you so clearly have no desire for me. To lower your standards and whore yourself. To use me, no matter how badly I’ll suffer in the end.”

Her words were like arrows, direct hits, and he cringed, but he offered no reply. Not yet. As he collapsed and bounced on the mattress, he focused on his demon. This isn’t a challenge to dominate her sexually, you get me?

Win!

Strider pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He thought the demon was still focused on the Rod, but he couldn’t be sure. So, when Kaia jumped on top of him, straddling his waist, he twisted, tossing her down and pinning her with his weight. And gods, that felt good. She fit him perfectly, her breasts soft against his chest, the apex of her thighs offering an exquisite cradle to the thickness of his shaft.

The scent of cinnamon continued to waft from her, enveloping him, hazing his thoughts. Heat, so much heat, pulsed from her soft, luscious skin, branding him.

WIN.

Bastard. “This is life and death, Kaia.”

She was panting as she tangled her hands in his hair, nails biting into his scalp. “For me, too.”

“Would you do it for…Paris?” he asked, hating himself.

“No.”

No hesitation from her, and that eased the tightness in his chest. A tightness he hadn’t even been aware of until just that moment. “Kaia.”

“Strider.”

“I—I never said I didn’t desire you.” He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say, he only knew that wasn’t it, that the words had slipped out without his consent. “I do. How could I not?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Are you saying you agree to be my consort?”

“No.” He wouldn’t lie about that. Not to her. And not because she’d rip him to pieces when she discovered the truth. “I can’t give you forever.”

The nibbling increased in intensity, leaving a bead of blood in the center of her mouth. “Because we’re not a good match?”

Of course she would remember every insult he’d ever thrown at her. “Yes.”

“Then what can you give me?”

“Here. Now.” Something his body craved more with every second that passed.

“In exchange for my aid in the theft of the Paring Rod.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Maybe even without it. So badly he wanted to arch into her, rub against her, stoke her passions until she begged him to finish her off.

She ran the pink tip of her tongue over her teeth. Teeth sharpening into a mouthful of daggers, but gods, that tongue was pretty. “You’ll have to convince me,” she said huskily, even as she drew his head down…down…until his lips hovered just above hers. “Give me a taste of what you’re offering.”

WIN, WIN, WIN.

A challenge. Intentional or not. And this time, he had no trouble interpreting what his demon expected, needed. Strider had to kiss her, and he had to convince her, or he would hurt.

He waited for fury to fill him, but as he stared down at her, breathing her in, all he wanted to do was give her that taste.

He removed her nails from his scalp and flattened her hands over her head, forcing her back to bow, her body to slide against his. Her nipples were hard, just waiting for his mouth.

“Don’t say another goddamn word,” he commanded, and then he finally, finally went in for the kill.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KAIA FELT AS IF SHE’D BEEN waiting for this moment forever. And in a way, she had. At long last, she lay in her consort’s embrace, and he was meeting her needs. Her wildest, most sensual needs. Strider’s lips pressed against hers, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth, hot, decadent, his taste filling her up, consuming her. She’d never loved cinnamon more. Sweet and tangy with just a little spice.

The weight of his muscled body pinned her to the mattress, and the weapons strapped all over him pressed into bone, probably bruising. As if she cared. What were a few bruises when one of Strider’s big hands held her head tilted to the side to deepen their connection?

What were a few bruises when her breasts rasped against his chest with her every inhalation, and her aching nipples rubbed at him, sparking the desire inside her to a hotter degree?

She spread her legs, allowing his lower half to fall more firmly against hers. His erection—so big, so long, so perfectly thick—hit her just right, and she gasped. Hotter, hotter, sooo much hotter.

“Strider,” she moaned.

“Kaia.”

Her name on his lips…heaven and hell, sweet and torturous. A siren’s song. “More.”

“How do you like it?”

“However you give it.” Her nails had already lengthened into claws, and she dug them into his back, accidentally cutting past his shirt and into skin. He groaned, and their teeth scraped together. His fingers clenched on her jaw. “Sorry,” she panted. She squeezed his hips with her knees, just in case he thought to leave her.