Page 47 of The Enslaved Duet

But there was the fear that it was something else entirely. That it wasn’t mere schadenfreude. That I’d derived some primitive pleasure from the very masculine display of his power, two males fighting over their desire to fuck me, but the man who was rightfully mine declaring the victory.

That it waspridemaking my chest tight and my heart light. That if he was king of this animal kingdom, then maybe I could be the queen.

By the time they were finished, I was flushed, sweat beaded on my forehead like a crown of shame for Alexander to note as soon as he ripped off his mask and approached. There was that boyish, smug smile on his handsome face again.

I hated how it made my heart soften to him.

“I won’t ask how you enjoyed the display,” he said languidly, his usually clipped words elongated with mockery as he teased me. “If I was to put my hand between your thighs right now, you’d be wet.”

Unconsciously, I squeezed my legs together.

“Unlike you, I am not constantly thinking of sex,” I replied with a haughty tilt of my chin. “In fact, I was just thinking I’d like to ask Riddick if he might teach me fencing or some self defence while you’re out working some days.”

Alexander pushed back an errant lock of his sweat dampened hair and scowled at me. “There is no man of this planet who is allowed to touch you without my permission. And, it should be noted, there are none who would receive it.”

“So permit him,” I suggested, trying to ignore his delicious sweat-soaked scent of cedar and man wafting from him as he stood too close to me.

“Out of the question.”

“Then teach me yourself,” I dared even though it terrified me and thrilled me in equal measure to think of such a beast fighting against me.

I could feel arousal bloom like a rose between my thighs.

Something was wrong with me, some trigger he’d flipped in my psyche to make the thought of his flesh against my fists and his blood in my mouth arouse me.

Alexander clenched his teeth, a muscle popping in his jaw as he studied me. I watched as he reigned in his base excitement, filtering it through his gentlemanly upbringing and psychopathic calculation until it was polished and refined as a diamond.

My mouth went dry watching that, and for once, I didn’t blame myself for the reaction.

Watching a man struggling to govern himself against the force of his attraction to you was a heady thing.

“Riddick,” he called out even as his eyes remained latched on mine. “Get out.”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t watch his bodyguard/man servant leave, but the banging of the door as it shut resounded like a starting gun through the chamber.

“You want to learn how to defend yourself against wicked men? Against me? Then get up.”

He turned on his heel and stalked toward the center of the mats again, only this time he placed his rapier in a rack on the way and tossed his helmet to the side. It was only when he turned to face me that I realized I’d unconsciously followed him across the gym.

His dirty smile said “good girl.”

My traitorous body shivered.

“You seemed able enough to defend yourself when a man was attacking me with a gun,” he noted as he pulled off his light fencing armour, revealing his sweat slicked torso.

I watched a bead of moisture travel between his hard pecks and get trapped in the boxed hedgerows of his abs. My fingers literally itched to trace its path under the waistband of his trousers.

“My brother taught be dirty tricks so I could walk home from the train at night in Milan and feel relatively safe. I don’t know how to subdue a real threat.”

“No,” he practically purred. “You don’t.”

“I find it hard to believe that you’d want to teach me,” I admitted as he came at me on brisk, threatening strides. When he stopped before me, it was sudden as if he was a horse desperate to canter but reined in by his rider. I could feel the potential energy in his stillness like a promised threat of violence.

God, but I knew how much he wanted to hurt me.

Almost as much as I wanted it.