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Mia curled up in her chair, staring at nothing. What had just happened? One minute, she was having a lively discussion with Alara and Jyrak. The next Zoran stormed into the room and ravished her, shredding her underwear beyond repair, pushing her relentlessly into so much pleasure, her body still trembled from his touch.

And her emotions!

God, what could she even say about the confused mess roiling around inside her?

At a quiet tap on the door, Mia pulled her robe over her lap and called, “Come in.”

A moment later, Jyrak stepped inside and closed the door firmly behind her. “Milady, may I bring you a refreshment?”

Mia shook her head.

Jyrak edged closer, her hands carefully folded behind her back. “Perhaps some chilled water?”

“Where was this concern when I was locked in here with…?” Mia shook her head. She wasn’t even sure how to finish that question. Zoran had fallen on her like a mad man, but his actions had been coldly precise, designed to push her to her sensual limits in what had clearly been a punishment, if the pleasure he’d given her could be called that. Which it couldn’t, she thought, stifling a spurt of amusement. The only mark he’d left on her was one she wanted, a secret testament to his desire.

“It is unwise to step between two mates,” Jyrak explained carefully, “lest one or the other is provoked to defend their mating bond against the outsider. Rarely do mating frenzies result in unwanted damage, else would Mother Alara and I have interfered despite such prohibitions.”

The new mark on Mia’s thigh pulsed, and Mia could no longer conceal her humor. “Relax, Jyrak. It’s a no harm, no foul situation.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. He didn’t hurt me.”

Jyrak nodded, not at all relaxed. “The mating frenzy did not overwhelm you?”

“The what?”

“When a male is pushed—” Jyrak softly snapped her fingers together against her thigh. “When he fears his mating?”

A scornful laugh rose in Mia’s throat. “I’m the least frightening thing on Zephyria.”

“No, milady, you misunderstand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I do not wish to intrude.”

“Intrude, please. As it is…” Mia closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair. “I’m not sure what happened. Or why, which is just as important.”

Because she wanted him to do it again, and maybe do it to him in return. Oh, the possibilities.

“I cannot say what drove him, precisely,” Jyrak said, “or what catalyst pushed him into the frenzy. Yet there must be something.” A pause. “Have you given him cause to doubt your affections?”

Emotion welled up so sharply in Mia, it clogged her throat. “No.”

“You love him?”

“I don’t know.” Mia shook her head. “He knows I’ve accepted his claim on me, even given the unfortunate circumstances.”

“And he accepts this fully? Is there no fear between you?”

The truth hit Mia so hard, she groaned. How many times had he told her that he wouldn’t let her go? Not even death will loosen my hold on you , he’d said, so fiercely the words had indelibly etched themselves into her bones.

“He’s afraid I’m going to leave him,” she whispered, gutted by the realization.

“Ah. There you have it. Fear drives a male to many stupid ends.”

Mia snorted out a laugh through the tears gathering in her eyes. “He really didn’t hurt me.”

Unless she counted the new bite mark on her thigh, which she definitely did not. And nope, she was not talking about that with anyone except Zoran.

“I would be surprised if he had. Rigid self-discipline is embedded in our culture. We can be fierce warriors.” Jyrak raised a clawed hand, rotating it in mute demonstration. “Yet must I ascertain your wellbeing for myself, as your friend. A warrior in the heat of the mating frenzy may lose control of his discipline. It is why we never push our mates beyond what they can endure.”

“I’m not worried about pushing him.” At Jyrak’s skeptical look, Mia added, “No, really. He takes discipline to a whole new level. What I’m worried about is the lack of trust.”

“You do not trust him?”

“I trust him with my life. Have trusted him with my life,” she said as memories of the vyirkolen attack surfaced. “He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t know how to change that.”

“Your frustration is understandable. Would that I could aid you in finding a solution.”

“I think it’s just going to take some time.” Her thighs rubbed together as she shifted, and another frisson of pleasure shuddered through her. “How can I be so mad at him for giving me three amazing orgasms?”

Jyrak let out a strangled cry deep in her throat, then coughed discreetly into her fist. “Three? In that short a time?”

Mia felt a blush crawl into her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“No, no. Tell me more.” Jyrak blinked once, her eyes impossibly wide. “Are you certain you did not miscount?”

Mia laughed until a sob caught her by surprise. Jyrak, being a wise friend, merely held her hand until the emotional storm passed and Mia could find some calm.

She waited until she’d sorted through her emotions before returning home, which took some time. Jyrak had scrounged up a needle and thread so Mia could repair her breeches well enough to last through the day. Her shredded panties were unsalvageable. There Mia would not budge: Zoran could damn well replace those himself. She’d make sure of it.

Mia was surprised by the number of people who discretely stopped by to check on her. She finally shrugged off her robe, leaving her arms bare so everyone could see for themselves that she was fine.

Perfectly fine. Ecstatic even. Her mate had given her three orgasms, so why was she so pissed at him?

By the time Jyrak saw her home, Mia had her anger under control. She’d approach this rationally, she decided. She and Zoran could sit down together over the evening meal and talk through whatever problems they faced. Why not? It worked for her parents. Surely it would work for her and Zoran, too.

Then she walked in and saw the boxes of supplies sitting in the kitchen and her temper sparked so high, she nearly screamed. She stalked through the apartment and found Zoran standing on the balcony watching the day fade into night.

“You can’t buy my affections,” she snapped.

He turned slowly, folded his hands behind his back, and stared coolly at her. “Of what do you speak, mate?”

She pointed a quivering finger at the living area. “Those boxes. What are they?”

“DVDs,” he enunciated carefully in English. “I intended giving them to you on the evening of our tour of the jutji , to distribute among the humans.”

“Ha! A likely story.”

“Such is the only story, as it is the truth.”

She ground her teeth together in frustration. Maddening male! “Why should I believe you?”

“Why should you not?”

“Ooo,” she huffed. “Fine. I’m taking a shower and putting on clothes I didn’t have to sew back together because my mate is an inconsiderate lout. Don’t even try to follow me.”

“You could not stop me if you tried.”

Tears filled her eyes so suddenly, she stalked forward and jabbed him in the stomach with her finger. “Just watch me, mister.”

His expression fell. Slowly, hesitantly, he smoothed a hand over her hair. “Tell me what you were discussing with my mother and Jyrak.”

She sniffed back a sob. “Why should I?”

“Because I ask it of you.”

“You aren’t exactly asking.”

“Then I do so now,” he huffed.

“Fine. We were—” She waved a hand, then swiped a stray tear from her cheek and quickly explained her suspicions about the infertility virus, her mother’s experience with disease, and Jyrak’s offer to open communication channels for further investigation.

“I see,” Zoran said slowly. “And reducing yourself to a mere researcher. How do you explain this?”

“What?” She shook her head, even more confused than before. “No. I asked Mother Alara to shoulder some of her previous responsibilities until I could settle in, get my own research under control, and learn how to be an administrator. She agreed to be my, my sensei , for lack of a better term.”

“As I agreed to be your sensei in the soul dance.”

His words were so soft, she barely caught them. “Exactly. I don’t understand why you were upset about that. It was my call. I mean, what use am I when I don’t even know what I’m doing? And, you know, your mom really wasn’t ready to give everything up. She wants to feel useful, too.”

“She has other responsibilities.”

Mia groaned. “God, don’t say that. I already feel guilty about having to ask her to cover for me.”

“Mia.” He dipped his head, aiming for a kiss, and she turned her head away.

“No,” she said, backing out of his hold. “You can’t wiggle your way out of this one.”

“Mate.”

She ignored his warning growl and tilted her chin at a stubborn angle. “I’m serious, Zoran. You should’ve asked what was going on before getting pissed at me. Don’t expect me to forgive you for scaring my friends.”

He drew himself up and stared down his nose at her. “You speak only of your friends’ fear. What of your own?”

She waved that away. “I trust you not to hurt me. But I don’t forgive you for the way you acted. And I’m sleeping in the living room tonight. Can’t very well kick you out of your own bed.”

“I forbid it,” he snarled. “Your place is beside me.”

“No, Zoran. My place is exactly where I think it should be. Tonight, that’s in the living room.”

Mia walked away before he could respond, slipping out of her clothes and into the shower with the door firmly closed between them.

Later, after supper and a quiet evening spent studying a report sent to her by the jutji ’s agricultural team, Mia grabbed her pillow, found a spare blanket, and arranged the living room cushions into a makeshift bed.

Zoran watched her quietly, his eyes hooded and dark. “You truly mean to separate yourself from me?”

“What separation?” she demanded, beyond exasperated with him. “You’re sleeping less than fifteen feet away.”

“What if a not-dragon enters our home?”

“Then I guess you’ll regret not installing those doors I asked for.”

His stare bloomed into a full-blown brood. “Is there nothing I can do to sway you?”

“Not a thing,” she said cheerfully. “Dim the lights on your way to bed, please.”

She curled up on her designated cushions, stuffed the pillow under her head, and closed her eyes, pointedly ignoring him. Fabric swished. The lights dimmed. His footsteps receded.

Great , she thought. Now I can get some sleep .

Something trilled in the jungle, startling her. The image of a not-dragon popped into her head, and fear ran an insidious finger down her spine. She rubbed her eyes, shifted on the cushions. They made great seats. Not such a great bed.

The report she’d studied that evening popped into her mind. She grabbed onto it with a relief born of desperation, reiterating the details to herself in the hopes of boring herself to sleep.

It must’ve worked. She woke in the darkness, pressed against a warm chest as Zoran gathered her into his arms and lifted her high.

At her dismayed groan, he gently murmured, “There is plenty enough time for anger on the morrow, pjora-la .”

He snuggled into bed with her, and she drifted off again, smiling.

When the day was little more than a glimmer along the horizon, Zoran petted Mia awake with his hand between her thighs and his fangs buried in her shoulder.

She moaned and arched against him. “I’m still mad at you,” she murmured sleepily.

Gently, he disengaged his fangs and lapped his tongue along the bite mark. “Then I shall not-mad you.”

Her laughter kissed his skin in a sensual caress. “That translator needs work.”

Zoran grunted. Such was immaterial at the moment. Touch had proven itself to be their most valuable communication tool. What need had they for words when a kiss conveyed so much more?

She twisted around, facing him, and hooked a finger in the waistband of his pants. “These displease me, mate. I command you to take them off.”

“Command?”

“Yes, command,” she said haughtily, not quite hiding the spark of humor in her expressive eyes. “Off.”

“If it so pleases you.”

He rolled off the sleeping pallet, stripped the loose pants off, and folded them across the chest where he stored his weapons and armor. When he turned back to her, she was kneeling on the bed, her gaze drifting over his nude body, her tunic pooled across her thighs. His tunic, the one he’d lent her the night she discovered her lack of clothing. The one he had ripped off her so that he might mark her again. Her clever fingers had sewn the front closed with an even hand, in a folded seam that would not irritate her sensitive skin during sleep.

Perhaps he should have insisted on her nudity as she had insisted upon his.

“Do you remember the day we met?” she said, her voice soft and uninflected.

The memory rose within him, dragging heat along with it, and his body hardened. This frail little klika standing with her friends, her midnight blue eyes wide as she stared warily at him. His gaze had passed over her the first time, then flicked back as if drawn by a magnet. The mating instinct had roared to life within him and, like a good mate, the best mate he could have wished for, his sweet human had fled, inviting him to chase her.

Pleasure rumbled in his chest. “How could I not, mate? That moment is burned forever into my mind.”

“You terrified me,” she murmured. “This huge, outrageously attractive male snarling at me like he wanted to gobble me up.”

“You find me attractive?”

Humor bled into her expression. She bit her lower lip, taming her humor, and patted the bed. “On your back.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What game is this, mate?”

“My game. The forgiveness game.”

“Very well.” He lowered himself onto the bed and rolled on his back, surprised when she straddled his abdomen, settling her hot core directly against his skin. “What would you have me do?”

“Whatever I wish.”

“You turn my words against me?”

“Is that really what you think I’m doing?”

No. Such malice did not exist within her. Still, he wondered.

She placed her palms flat against his abdomen and rubbed them upward, exploring the curves and slabs of muscles it had taken him years to build and hone. “Hands behind your head, mate.”

Dutifully, he tucked his hands safely away, where they could not hinder her exploration. “Better?”

“You have no idea. Wow. Your biceps really are as big as my thighs.”

He flexed them, grinning widely when lust glazed her expression. “The better to protect my mate.”

“Yeah,” she sighed softly. “Yeah. Ok, um. Roll your head to the side.”

He knew which way without her having to ask. As soon as he had complied, she scooted forward and placed her teeth against the faint mark she had previously bitten into his throat. Leaned back, measured the distance critically, and tried again. Her teeth hit the original mark that second time and dug in hard, piercing the skin with a bruising pleasure-pain. Heat shot through him, and he arched his hips off the bed, nearly unseating her.

“Easy there, beloved,” she murmured against his throat, then her tongue rasped across the mark and another wave of heat washed over him.

His eyelids slid shut of their own accord and he moaned her name.

“Again?” she said.

“Anything you desire. I give myself unto you.”

Her laughter hummed against his skin. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

She explored him as he preferred exploring her, slowly, with her lips and fingers and tongue. Her tiny claws raked against his skin, teasing him to the point of madness. He wanted to grasp her hips and push her down against his hard length, to roll her over and bury himself so deep inside her she forgot she had not always been his.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, such delicate awe in her voice, he could scarcely restrain himself.

No . He would not yield to such temptation. He clasped his hands together beneath his head, forcibly leashing himself, though he ached to touch her in return. This was Mia’s game. Let her play it as she would.

Her tongue trailed down the center of his abdomen, then flicked along the tip of his cock.

His hips rolled up, ignoring his command, and her name burst from his mouth on a low moan. “Take care, pjora-la . You play with fire.”

Without another word, she sucked his cock into her mouth, taking as much of him as she could.

A helpless jumble of words fell from his lips, nearly shorting the translator, to her whispered amusement. Up and down her mouth slid, alternately sucking him deep and popping him out, again and again until he could no longer still his hips. His fingers went numb from his tight grip on himself and his muscles strained toward her.

Desire rose so sharply, he feared spilling his seed in her luscious mouth.

“Stop, Mia,” he rasped out. “I beg you.”

Her laughter hummed against the sensitive head of his cock. She popped him out of her mouth and said a single word in response.

“No.”

Her sucking redoubled, joined by one hand tightening around the base of his cock. The claws of her free hand dug into his thigh, bruising him deliciously, and his hands broke free, curse them. One settled on the back of her head, gently encouraging her sweet mouth to milk him. The other clasped her hand around his cock and guided her into stroking him while her lips and tongue wreaked havoc above.

And then he could no longer think about whose game they were playing or the rules laid down between them. He surged into her mouth, driven by a need to possess her, to claim her, to mark her so surely she knew only him, needed only him. Loved only him.

“Beloved,” he gasped, then roared out his release, emptying himself into her mouth as dizzying emotion swept through him. Their bond pinged gently, settling onto a deeper plane, and when he could give no more, when his seed dribbled out of her mouth and her hands stilled upon his body, he hauled her up, wrapped himself around her, and buried his face in her hair, shocked as much by the way she had moved him as by the clarity her touch provided.

He loved her so much. It was a quiet ache against his heart.

She sighed happily and stroked him into quiescence, and together they fell once more into sleep.