He was too big to take as deeply as she wanted. She used the clasp of her fingers to make up the difference remaining between her lips and his body. The rhythm she chose was slow and so, so deliberate, even though her body began to hum a potent charge. Since she’d learned to use her gift, she equated arousal with the explosive force. Gathering energy . . . then the release.

This gathering was achingly patient. The release would be complete.

After dragging her tongue along the length of his shaft, she moved to take his throbbing head back into her mouth. Those hands lining her jaw reminded her that, when he wanted to be, Leto was in charge.

“Enough.” He sounded just as bestial as ever. His eyes, heavy-lidded and fathomless, marked the only difference. He looked stunned. And eager.

Nynn expected his resolve to crumble. She had pushed him too far. Her warrior would shove her back across the bed and take what his body demanded. She wouldn’t mind; he would be satisfying her needs as well. But she’d hoped they were more than that.

He proved they could be when he dropped to his knees.

“Off with these,” he said, tugging her shorts. She had no say—a compromise of sorts between being taken and being coddled. “My turn.”

Nynn opened her knees even as he pushed them wide. “You’ve done this to women, then?”

She’d meant it as a teasing echo, but the skin across his cheekbones tightened as he grimaced. “Not often enough for you to appreciate any great skill.”

“I like an honest man.”

Lying back on one elbow, she guided his face down until the first rush of contact made her gasp. His lips were hot, but his tongue was even hotter. He lacked finesse. He did not lack patience or intensity. Nynn arched and tipped her pelvis forward. He hooked an arm under her ass to position her as he wanted. His other hand grasped her breast, softly kneading, looping his fingers over her nipple in a pattern that matched the pulse of his tongue.

Breathing heavily, Nynn offered no resistance when he pushed her breastbone in a signal for her to lie back. He eased two fingers into her sheath. He must’ve appreciated her whispered curse because he grinned against her inner thigh. A rumbled curse of his own trembled up her legs and pooled where his fingers pulsed.

Without thought, she began to speak in the old language. Not Tigony or Garnis. Not Sath or Pendray or Indranan. There was a language even older than the Five Clans, and she knew its words.

Leto paused. Looked up her body. Those nearly black eyes held as many questions as promises of lust and satisfaction.

“I’d forgotten,” he said softly, in that same lost language.

“Me, too.”

She caressed his cheek, which was roughened by sharp stubble. The ancient spell wove between them, until speaking English or even her clan’s tongue would’ve seemed like sacrilege in the bubble of time and space they’d claimed for themselves.

“Then this is how we’re supposed to make love,” he said. “Even down to the words given to us by the Dragon.”

“Making love.”

A frown etched between his brows. After a few more luxurious strokes, so deep where she yearned for more, he eased his fingers free. His features still revealed the riddles of his thoughts, but he lifted up and over her body. They were still sideways across the mattress. His feet must’ve been planted firmly on the floor. Nynn could only flick her attention between his taut expression and the hand he’d clamped around the base of his prick.

“That’s what we’re doing, Nynn. Making love.”

She smiled, almost relieved that his confusion came from something so simple. Although none of this felt simple. “Yes, we are.”

She pulled him down as she lifted up, that same dance of compromise, as they balanced each other. Dovetailed one another. His mouth tasted of her body, which was both shocking and amazingly intimate. Soon that taste was licked and kissed away until she found only Leto. His heat and the sharp sweetness of his tongue swished over hers. Rough breaths puffed between them in a quiet, tender duel.

Nynn was restless. The place he’d filled with such care, with only two of his blunt fingers, needed more. She needed the heavy erection jutting out from the body he held rigid.

She touched one of his unsteady biceps. “This from my warrior? Shaking?”

“You take everything from me.” He positioned himself at her slick opening and pulsed inside. No quick thrust. Not even a tease—just the gentleness she’d asked for. Hard, thick, almost asking permission. “Just as you give everything to me.”

“Give me everything now.”

He shook his head. “We’re making love. Those are the right words for what we’re doing. Because I am not a beast.”

“No. You’re not.”

“And I’m not just your warrior.”

Tears burned beneath her lids. She couldn’t breathe except in pained little gulps. She lifted her hand and touched the collar she’d always hated. Now she had so many more reasons to despise the things.

She’d asked him once, and she asked him again. “What would you be without this?”

His answer . . .

Oh, Dragon be. Please.

With eyes as dark as midnight, as expressive as dance, he pushed his full, throbbing length into her waiting body. Nynn opened her mouth but made no sound. Only shuddered at the rightness of their joining.

He leaned down, cradling the back of her head. She clung to him, wrapped her legs around him, moved with him.

Against her temple he whispered, “I’d be a better man.”

Leto wanted to close his eyes and bask in softness. This was what softness felt like—not just Nynn’s body, which welcomed his with trust, warmth, and an intimacy so fierce that it stung each nerve. This was the softness of letting down his guard. He gave in to her keeping. So often he’d believed he was the one to keep her safe, but that protection traveled in two directions.

He needed this moment as much as he needed victory.

No, that’s wasn’t true. He needed this more than victory, because he’d lost in the Cage. Although his pride had been damaged, he had not dried into dust. Unmanned. Ashamed. No, he still breathed. He breathed the scent of the woman who was teaching him different ways of seeing the world. The world he knew was small, tight, dark.

If he shut his eyes, glorying in unfamiliar sensations, he’d be back in the darkness. He stayed with Nynn, with her clear blue eyes that shimmered silver in the pale light. He stayed with the way her moist lips parted. Every deliberate slide into her slick, tight pussy drew forth a gasp or a sigh or a little cry. He moved slowly, giving himself a brief moment to wonder which sound would come next. He liked changing the angle of his thrusts just enough to catch her by surprise.

She clutched his flanks with edgy fingers, urging him with restless pulses. Her nails were blunt, but that didn’t mean her sharp journey from his hip to the top of his spine was any less potent. He shivered under the weight of his vulnerability and released his confusion with a trio of sharp thrusts. Nynn’s heavy breathing ratcheted down to a moan. Oh yes. More sounds to find. More softness edged with the passion and strength they both possessed.

While crossing his arm beneath her back, he turned her to lie fully along the bed. He’d thought of taking her again, in the interminable days after they’d fought. He’d imagined that she would ride him, so as not to aggravate her tattoo and the wounds on her back. Two months on, she was healed. Reality meant he could lever his body over hers and claim her. One day she would straddle his torso and set the pace, but not this night.

He braced his weight on his elbows. Despite the hazy desire in her eyes, she was completely fixed on him, as if he was the answer to every question she’d ever asked.