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What was wrong with her? Yes, this was a chance for her freedom, but she was offering herself naked to the Warlord.

This was bad news all around because her entire body already tingled. “If you’re going to see me naked, I don’t want to call you the Warlord all the time. I’m going to call you by name.”

“You can call me Alpha.” He raised a brow. “And you haven’t removed a stitch of clothing.”

“The clothes stay on until you agree. I call you Lodan, and you call me Kassandra.”

“Get undressed,” he demanded.

It was as much of a “yes” as she would get.

Her stomach lurched. What if she lost? Nope. No, no. She’d swallowed her strobile, and for most of her life, she’d sat beside Alphas without a twitch of reaction. All she had to do was channel that.

She picked up the book of poetry and thumbed through the pages. Quickly, she scanned each one. Damn, they were all long, none shorter than five pages. She sighed and picked one.

He still stood in the center of the tent, watching her.

She was topless in front of him before, this wasn’t much different. Except it was. It was very different.

In one jerk, she yanked her tunic off and set it on the bed. She fumbled with the straps of her pants, her fingers not quite working properly. They loosened, and with a wiggle, she let them fall to the floor. Picking up the poetry book, she climbed onto the bed and lay with her head resting against the headboard. She propped the book up on her chest. “Let’s get this over with.”

The Warlord—Lodan—strode to the bed. His golden eyes blazed, and he looked every inch like the warrior he was, stalking his quarry on the battlefield. She shivered, and heat punched into her stomach.

He joined her on the bed, kneeling at her feet. His hands circled her ankles. “Part your legs.” His gaze was like a palpable thing, bringing heat to her sex and making it throb. She shimmied her legs apart, but only a few inches.

He growled and spread her open. “This. This is how you remain. You move, I win.” His words were almost a groan, and his breath was ragged.

She affected him.

For once, he wasn’t unreadable.

His gaze rose from between her legs to meet hers. “Show me I don’t distract you. Read.”

She swallowed and read the first line, “‘Dear lady, don’t crush my heart with pains and sorrows.’” Then the second. He still hadn’t touched her. That made it worse for some reason, and her voice shook, but she read on.

A feather-light touch landed at her ankle and trailed upward. It caressed the inside of her knee, then explored up her inner thigh. She lay bared before him, every twitch, every squeeze of her thigh muscles visible if he watched closely, and she bet he was watching very closely.

She should be horrified at being nude before him like this, or scared at being so vulnerable, but she wasn’t. This was about winning a competition and her freedom. That was the only reason she felt comfortable naked before him. The only reason.

He kept his word though, and didn’t touch her intimately. His mouth replaced his fingers, kissing along her inner thigh. Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t kiss her? This counted, didn’t it?

Pure pleasure unfurled inside her, slowly spooling and gathering. Her body sang for more, but it didn’t matter. More it would not get.

The bed shifted, so she knew he moved, but she kept her gaze glued to the book and read on. “‘And what did I especially desire for myself in—’” Hot breath whispered across her most sensitive of places, and she gasped— “my … my frenzied heart.”

A purr rumbled from his chest. “There’s your first error. You said ‘my’ twice.”

Heat licked through her, pooling between her legs. She wanted to rub her legs together, but she kept them open. “You said no touching but you’re touching.”

He purred again. “I’m not touching. You said nothing about breathing on you.”

She gripped the sides of the book so hard her knuckles whitened. “It was implied.”

“Keep reading, or I win.”

She glared at him, then went back to the book. “‘Rapidly they came.’” As she continued, his hands molded up her hips, then circled her waist. He shifted farther between her legs, his thighs brushing hers. The rough-spun linen of his trousers whispered across her leg. A tickling tease nearly making her gasp. A thumb flicked over the tip of her nipple, and her voice wavered, but she plowed on.

His hands were warm and a little rough, but the coarse skin only added a delicious friction to each caress.

A bead of sweat trailed down the back of her neck, and her legs quivered. Lodan shifted to prop himself over her, and lowered his head. One hand drifted back to her thigh, so tantalizingly close to where heat throbbed for release, but he obeyed her rule and didn’t move his hand upwards. “I like you quivering under me.”

She gulped and read on. “‘For even if she flees, soon she shall pursue. And if she refuses gifts, soon she shall give them. If she doesn’t love you, soon she shall love, even if she’s unwilling.’”

His lips circled her nipple, and he sucked. She whimpered, and the book jerked in her hands, almost hitting his head.

He sucked again, hard, then licked tenderly. Softly. “Error two,” he murmured. “You stopped reading. Technically, you lose, but I’ll give you one last chance.”

She was going to die. Her body was on fire, her legs trembling so hard she was afraid he’d think she was moving intentionally and tell her he’d won. She looked over his shoulder at the tent door. She could do this. She could win, even if her legs longed to wrap around his waist, and she wanted to bury her face in his neck and take in more of his Alpha scent.

“Keep reading, or do you forfeit?” One arm held him propped up over her, the other still stretched down, with his hand circling her thigh. He stroked his thumb over the tender skin there, moving higher and higher, so close to her seam but not quite touching.

“‘Some say an army of horsemen, some of foot soldiers, some of ships, is the fairest thing on the black earth, but I say it is what one loves.’”

Lodan continued to use his mouth on her breasts, intermixing it with rolling the tip between his teeth.

She turned the page. Only a few more verses to go. Her heart rate kicked up. She could do this. She could win.

Lodan shifted off her, rolling to his side.

“‘For whenever I look at you even briefly, I can no longer say a single thing, but my tongue is frozen in silence; instantly a delicate flame runs beneath my skin; with my eyes I see nothing; my ears make a whirring noise.’”

She was almost there.

Lodan caressed the side of her face, then ran his hands through her hair. This wasn’t erotic. This was intimate. The way a mate would touch her.

She gritted her teeth. One more verse. “‘A cold sweat covers me—’” Lodan caressed her face again, sweeping his thumb over her lower lip. Then he bent and kissed her temple. “‘Trembling … trembling seizes my body …’”

He purred. Pressed so closely to her side, the vibration rumbled through her body. “You lose.”

She jerked up to a seated position, closing her legs. “No! That was the last line.”

He didn’t move from where he lay on the bed, looking every bit an Alpha who had exactly what he wanted. “It doesn’t matter. You said ‘trembling’ twice.” He plucked the book from where it had fallen into her lap and tossed it on the ground. In another motion, so quick she didn’t have time to prepare herself, he was on top of her, binding her wrists in one of his and pinning her arms above her head.

He was still fully clothed, but it didn’t matter. Her heart hammered in her chest so loudly he must hear it. His mouth was at her jaw, his lips drifting down to her throat. He shifted himself more fully over her, propping himself up on his forearms to keep his weight off her. “This is when you start telling me exactly how much I distract you.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” Was that her voice so high-pitched and breathless?

“It’s what I won. Do it.” He nibbled at her neck, and she whimpered.

The sooner she told him, the sooner this would be over. Although every inch of her wanted more. Even her hips pressed upward slightly, responding to the male on top of her as if inviting him closer. Much closer. “All right, I admit you make me nervous when you’re around, but I’m sure you make everyone nervous. You’re so big and scary looking.” She was rambling, but if he wanted to know how he distracted her, this was what he would get. She wasn’t a poet, and wasn’t about to write verses. “That’s what’s distracting.”

His mouth blazed a trail down her neck, his lips, his tongue, sucking at the tender column. She twisted, but with her hands bound and him pinning her to the mattress, she couldn’t move much. Also, she rotated toward him, not away.

He bit gently this time, unlike when he wanted to leave a mark. She moaned, her head falling back.

He purred, and his lips grew hungrier.

The tension slipped away. She tipped her head to the side, giving him better access. “I hate your scent. It fills the air and makes me forget what I’m doing.”

He bit again, this time harder. “Keep going.” His breathing became more ragged.

“I can feel when you’re around. It’s awful.” It was arousing, but she was never going to admit that.

He stilled, his breath fanning against her throat. Without any warning, he bit down hard.

She cried out, her back arching. One of her legs hooked around the back of his knee, pulling him closer. He sucked at her skin, and she struggled to get her hands free, wanting to dig them deep into his back.

“Beg me to get inside you right now.” His hand tightened around her wrists. “For Hade’s sake, beg me, Princess.”

She jolted and crashed back down to earth. This was the Warlord, her enemy, on top of her. Someone who couldn’t even be bothered to call her by her name or kiss her. “No. I’ll never beg you.”

He released her and rolled to his side. Kassandra shot off the bed and snatched her clothes to her chest. She shoved her pants on and yanked her shirt over her head. Pointedly refusing to look at him, she pulled a few sleeping skins off his bed and arranged them on the floor. She fussed, creating a pillow of sorts. Anything to avoid looking at him.

“You lay on my bed for a while tonight.” His voice wasn’t as silkily rumbly like it had been while his mouth was at her ear, whispering about entering her—it had returned to his deep, commanding tone. “You didn’t seem to dislike it. I think your complaints about it last week were nonsense.”

She glanced at it. “I’ve never seen a wooden headboard that nice, but it’s the blankets and how you have them piled all over the place.” She sniffed. “It’s not right.”

He grunted but didn’t say anything else. The sheets rustled, and she followed him out of the corner of her eye as he slid off the bed and poured himself some wine. He didn’t look at her, and she settled into her nest. Despite her body buzzing, sleep found her fast.

But another vision invaded her dream world.

The slight figure, so petite she could be a child, hummed to herself as she threaded through the underbrush, stopping every so often to pick a plant. Kassandra was an invisible, silent witness, floating above Greta’s right shoulder, moving with her as she walked.

A team of warriors surrounded the healer, the Myrdinian Alphas shifting impatiently each time the tiny form stooped and plucked plants from the ground. Here, the trees towered, no longer the short scrubby beach variety clinging low to the ground to battle the incessant wind off the ocean. The rain had softened into a perpetual misty drizzle, shifting into sheets of swirling fog. The canopy was obscured, and even when the trees thinned into a small clearing, it was difficult to see beyond the mossy expanse to the other side.

She hated having visions while asleep. It was bad enough that her visions came unbidden and unwanted, but when they came while she slept, it was like living through nightmares.

Kassandra’s heart raced, and her skin grew clammy. She was seeing this for a reason, and her visions never showed her peaceful, pleasant times.

The warriors pointed and halted, one near Greta drawing a bow from his back. “Jason asked me to bring him some game,” he whispered.

A roe deer, a large buck, stepped forward from behind a tree, his ears twitching and swiveling. The team was downwind, and the deer hadn’t seen them yet. As the men fanned out, Greta shook her head in exasperation, but remained motionless where she stood by a large oak.

When the hunters became the hunted, it happened fast.

Soldiers dressed in black armor with a distinct, golden emblem on the chest, poured out of the woods. The deer shot off. Myrdinians shouted, drawing their swords and charging forward. There were two black armored warriors to every one of them.

Greta clutched the tree, frozen in place.

“Run!” Kassandra shouted, unseen and unheard.

Swords clashed. Blood sprayed, and Kassandra kept her gaze on Greta, not wanting to watch.

For what seemed like many long minutes, Greta crouched by the tree, immobile. Finally, she turned. She took a few tentative steps, then ran.

But Greta was older, and her steps weren’t swift. A large figure, his armor shiny with blood, yelled and sprang after her. He was on her in half a second, raising his sword and slashing it into Greta’s neck.

Kassandra shouted, bolting upright.

The Warlord leaped out of bed. “What is it?”

“Don’t let Greta go into the woods,” she shouted.

It was late; only one lantern remained lit in the tent, leaving the rest dark. The tent walls fluttered violently in the howling wind, and the skins clung to her arms and legs, strangling her. She thrashed, trying to kick them off her. “They’re all dead.” Panic clogged her throat, and the blankets tangled even worse.

Lodan knelt in front of her and peeled the blankets off her. “It was a dream.”

She shook her head, gasping for breath.

One of his large hands landed between her shoulder blades and rubbed. “You’re all right.”

Half blinded, seeing only sprays of blood, she grabbed onto Lodan and buried her face into his neck.

He didn’t respond for a long moment, then wrapped his arms around her. “You’re all right,” he repeated.

When had she last been held? “Don’t let Greta go into the woods,” she repeated into his neck.

He didn’t respond, only swept her into his arms and brought her to his bed.

He lay on his side, cradling her close, then shifted slightly, not putting his weight on her but tucking her under him a little. Protecting her. She clutched at him, resting her head on his chest. Her heart still hammered, and all she could see was Greta, her eyes widening as she met her death.

Even though no one had ever listened before, she needed to tell Lodan, to make him understand. Yet, trying to explain meant telling him about the visions.

Greta’s face flashed before her again.

She had to try. Her stomach clenched. “It wasn’t a dream. I have visions, and they always come true.”