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Warmth surrounded her, and Kassandra snuggled deeper into her cocoon of furs. A rich leather and cedar scent coated the skins, and she inhaled deeply and nestled farther into the pile of blankets.

Wait. That scent was …

She sat up with a jerk. Exhausted after two days of poor sleep, she’d lain down on the Warlord’s bed for a moment, and look what happened—she’d fallen asleep. Here. In the Warlord’s bedroom where he was about to return any moment.

A gust of wind buffeted the tent, and the roof’s fabric snapped like a whip. She kicked off the blankets and shimmied to the edge of the bed. With another vicious slap of the wind, a dull roar filled the tent as the sky unleashed a sudden onslaught of rain. She stood.

Pain clawed through her feet, and she tumbled sideways onto the ground, whimpering.

Her feet were a mess. After her bath, the healer applied a salve to them, bandaged them, and gave Kassandra some men’s shoes for extra protection, but her feet were ripped apart. The healer told her to stay off them, but how would she escape if she couldn’t walk?

She shifted, and her elbow cracked against something hard. “Damn it.” She rubbed her arm. “What is this?”

After the irritating Beta helped her bathe and complained far too long about the state of Kassandra’s hair—yes, it was Kassandra’s fault the Warlord’s guards hadn’t let her brush her hair—she’d immediately checked the tent for weapons. Alas, nothing. Even the plates and jugs on the table were made of copper, so she couldn’t smash them to form a knife of sorts. She’d missed this, though.

Kassandra scooted backward and dragged it out.

It was only a small crate with a few books inside. She slumped forward. “Nothing useful.” Even if she got close enough and aimed for the Warlord’s temple, the leather-wrapped tomes were small. Definitely not hefty enough to stun an Alpha, let alone kill one, and the Warlord probably had a really thick skull.

Stamped gold lettering on the front covers caught the lamp light and glittered. These were expensive books on par with the ones in the palace.

The library was not one of her favorite places as a child. Anything that kept her inside was torture back then. Only as a teen had she grown to like reading, because it let her escape, but why would the Warlord have nice books like these? And what happened to the palace books when the Myrdinians attacked? They were worth a small fortune, but no barbarian would appreciate the collection. Although Kassandra’s father hadn’t exactly spent time reading either. The only times she’d ever see him in the library was when he instructed her tutor on things she needed to learn.

One of their last interactions before he’d sent her away to the temple was to instruct her to learn about Argosian customs. The Argosians were close allies with the Sardi, and their city-state was the land of engineers and philosophers. At first, she’d been excited, thinking he would finally have her help around the palace, but she’d soon realized he was arranging a match between her and the Argos leader.

She’d been stunned.

A marriage with a non-Sardi declared her father didn’t find her satisfactory, or worthy as a daughter. She was a Sardi, she was supposed to marry a Sardi. Sure, she’d rejected all the Sardi suitors to that point, but it wasn’t her fault she hadn’t responded to any of them. None seemed interested in her anyway. They all sat at the table and only spoke to her father, angling for their own self-interest.

At first, she’d been angry. Then ashamed. She’d always known her father found her deficient, but this was proof. This was announcing it to all of Anatolia.

When her father told her it was the Argos leader or the temple, she’d chosen the temple. She’d figured he’d relent and bring her back. He hadn’t.

Then he’d died.

The gold title on the red leather book in her hand glinted in the low lamplight. She turned the spine. Hunting the Wild Boar . Myrdinians weren’t readers, but if this Warlord actually did read, it wasn’t surprising he wanted to read about hunting and killing.

She tossed it back in the crate and fished out the other. The Poetry of Sappho . This book, or maybe the entire crate, must have been misplaced. No Alpha, never mind the Warlord, read poetry.

A squall of wind and rain lashed through the tent, making the flame in the lamps jump as the door swung open. Kassandra dropped the book and scrambled to her feet.

He’d come.

The Warlord stepped through, ruffling his dark hair to send drops of rain cascading through the tent. Such a normal gesture, but he was a ruthless killer. He probably still had Sardi blood on his hands.

Her gaze flew down his arms. No blood. And he’d taken off his armor, so he’d washed up somewhere.

He ignored her and walked to the table. Even without his armor, he towered taller than any other Alphas she’d seen, with broad, strong shoulders. Loose black pants, in a common style she’d seen worn by visitors from the south, were paired with a fitted, simply woven white shirt, a slight vee at the neck revealing bronze skin and the taut muscles of his chest. The fabric was worth little, but on him, it looked royal somehow. Not like her brother, who wore silk and embroidered layers to give himself more grandeur, yet despite the expensive clothes, he still seemed … small.

She didn’t want to look at his face, she didn’t want to know this Alpha, but her gaze dragged upward as if captured.

The small scar she’d noticed before bisected his upper lip at a slight angle. His lower lip lay a touch fuller. Combined with chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline, his face could have been alluring, but his mouth was set as if he found the world distasteful. And anger and power vibrated through him.

If she’d crossed his path in normal circumstances, she would have avoided drawing his attention. Their gazes met. Held.

Her breath caught.

His eyes were hauntingly beautiful. Obscene. Like liquid gold, they burned under his strong brow. Framed by thick lashes, the molten color seemed to change in the low light of the tent. They belonged to a god, not to this Warlord.

Lazily, he grabbed the glass of wine he’d poured and walked toward her with the arrogance of a hunter, knowing he had his quarry. “You’re watching me like you’re eager to know me.”

“I’m studying you for weaknesses.”

In one smooth motion, he dropped into one of the chairs in the center of the tent. “Then you’ll watch for a long time.” That bewitching gaze held hers. “Sit.” He pointed at the chair next to him.

Her mouth went dry, and all thought fled. Her hands smoothed over her oversized trousers. She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to tremble before him , but she couldn’t help it. What was he going to do tonight? Start rutting her?

“Do I need to repeat myself?” he asked with a low, seductive rumble. “I told you I like to be obeyed, Omega. Instantly.” His eyebrow rose a fraction, and the liquid golden eyes, previously light like honey, darkened ominously. Alpha aggression spiked in the tent. It was so raw, so strong, she gasped.

Her father had introduced her to Alpha warriors, but none exuded this intensity. Fear, real visceral fear, clawed up her throat and choked her. Unable to swallow, she edged to stand in front of the seat he’d pointed at, trying hard not to limp.

While he sat, their heads were closer to the same height. His gaze bore into hers, so she stared at his throat instead.

His knees fell open, and he sat back, patting his leg. As if he were relaxing at home by the fire. “Sit here instead.”

Her heart pounded, and it was like she couldn’t get enough air. Her nose wrinkled. “Not a chance.”

She expected another barked command. Instead, a humming started. Not exactly a purr, not exactly a growl. It slid against her chest, worming into her. The heavy tinge of aggression in the air faded into his silky Alpha scent.

Heavens above … his smell.

It was so rich. No other Alphas smelled like this—a touch of cedar, leather, and something mysteriously male and primal. It was the one she’d buried herself in while lying on the bed. Normally Alpha scent irritated her. Made her want to get away. This one didn’t. Something shifted inside her, urging her to get closer.

She fisted her hands and remained where she stood.

He glanced down at her feet and frowned. “You can sit in the chair, or on me. Now. Your choice.”

A whisper rose from the back of her mind— choose him. “Two pitiful choices. I’d prefer to sit as far from you as I can.” She lowered into the chair.

A drop of rain lingered on the Warlord’s neck. If she licked it off, she’d taste his skin mixed with a hint of rain.

He hadn’t stopped humming, and it gently lapped through her. Her breath spilled slowly past her lips. In and out. Why in Hades was she thinking about his taste? “Stop making that sound,” she blurted, instantly biting her lip.

His lips curled. “Since you dislike it, I’ll keep doing it.” He tilted his head slightly. “Would you care to play a little game?”

She sat up straight. “What?”

“We’ll play chess. You win, I’ll give you what you want, and stop humming. I win, you give me what I want.”

She drew back, her gaze flicking to the bed. “No. I know what you want. And you’ll take what you want, game or no.”

His eyes seemed to flash, or maybe it was a trick of the lamplight. “Sardi Alpha’s take. Myrdinian’s do not. You’ll come to me. You will beg me to fill you and give you everything an Omega needs.” His voice lowered and became a purr. “Only when you, a Sardi Princess, beg for me to be inside you, will I take you.” One corner of his lips tilted upwards a fraction. “And you will beg.”

Kassandra froze. What was he playing at? “If you speak the truth, you’ll wait forever.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Fear still trickled through her, and she had absolutely no reason to trust what he said, but for some reason she … did.

She’d never wanted an Alpha before, and she wasn’t about to start now. If he did keep his word, then she’d escape and still be available for a Sardi marriage when the Sardi finally destroyed this army and took back Anatolia.

She tossed her head. “Fine. Let’s play. And what I want when I win is for you to let me leave.”

He waved his hand, then put it back on his muscular thigh. “Fine. If you win, I’ll let you walk out of camp. If I win, you sit on my lap and touch me.”

She stared, her lips parting. “What? You want me to touch you?” Her gaze dropped to his chest. To the broad slope of his shoulders.

“Part of your new role here is to wait on me, which includes dressing and undressing me. You may as well get comfortable with it now. I imagine it will be the first time a Sardi has ever waited on another.”

She bit back a snort. What did he think she’d been doing for the last four years? The temple was a stone fortress in the side of a mountain, and she was the newest acolyte, meaning she got the worst jobs. Cooking, cleaning, weeding, and taking care of the barnyard. The only chores she liked were caring for the animals and working in the garden.

“I can’t trust you to keep your word.”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. The temperature in the tent seemed to lower, and she shivered.

“The Sardi are the ones who can’t be trusted.”

She knew how to play chess, and although she hadn’t done so in a while, she could definitely beat some Warlord.

He raised his drink to his lips, waiting for her answer.

She didn’t quite believe he’d let her leave his tent and return to her city, but a small bubble of hope rose in her chest. “Fine.” At the very least, she’d put him in his place.

He pulled one of the tables over between them, then retrieved the chessboard from a chest by the tent entrance.

As he set it up, he started humming again. The sound lapped against her, making her settle back in her chair, her muscles relaxing. “No humming while we play.”

He pointed. “I’ve let you be white. You go first.”

Kassandra sat back, staring at the board. She’d lost. Not simply lost, she’d been trounced by a Myrdinian. She gritted her teeth and bit back tears. All she’d had to do was win one game, and she’d failed. Yet another thing she’d failed at. “I haven’t slept in two days.”

He drained the rest of his wine. “That must be the reason you lost.”

The sides of the tent seemed to be closing in. She was really stuck here. With him. He was an Alpha, and she was his Omega prisoner. No matter what he said earlier about only taking her when she begged for it, she didn’t believe him. He was going to push his advantage and take her however he wanted. That’s what Alphas did.

One of her ladies-in-waiting, a Tyrrhuscan from the nearby city-state, had spoken to Kassandra about her arranged marriage. She hadn’t liked her future mate, but it hadn’t mattered; he was the one her parents set her to marry. She’d told Kassandra her Alpha hadn’t let her get used to him, he’d just … taken.

The Warlord stared at her from across the table, his golden eyes darkening. He spread his legs wider and jerked his chin toward his left thigh. “I don’t have all night. Come.”

She stood. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

She lowered sideways onto his lap, her legs tucked between his, trying to touch him as little as possible. His arm snaked around her waist. “Look at that, I didn’t even have to command you twice.”

She hissed and popped forward, trying to stand, but his grip tightened, and he settled her closer, right against his chest. His chest vibrated as he began humming again. It wasn’t the purr an Alpha made for his mate, but it was soothing. The sound made her want to nuzzle against him and let his warm body heat her own.

No. No way. She kept herself stiff and unyielding.

“Look at me, Omega.”

Her gaze jerked up to fix on his. “Kassandra. Not Omega.”

He didn’t respond. As the humming continued, he took her hand. She froze, staring at how his massive hand, with its blunt fingernails, engulfed hers.

A tingle spread from the contact—little bubbles of pleasure growing and expanding into licks of heat along her limbs. He put her hand on his chest. “Touch me.”

She made a fist and bumped it on his chest. “There. I’ve sat on your lap, and I’ve touched you.”

His hand plunged into her hair, and he tilted her face to his. “Keep looking at me. Look at your Alpha.” His gaze roamed over her face. Releasing her hair, he trailed his fingers down her neck.

“You aren’t my Alpha.” Fire licked everywhere he touched. As his fingers followed the slope of her shoulder, they tickled over her shirt, and she had an urge to rip it away so they were skin on skin.

Her fingernails dug into his chest. No. She couldn’t feel this way. Not for him. Anyone but him.

A small, cruel smile pulled his lips up. “Your eyes are dilated. Your body knows I’m your Alpha.”

His fingers kept up their slow trail down her arm. Her blood heated, and Kassandra squirmed, trying to fight it. That made it worse. She was rubbing on Lodan’s thigh, bringing delicious friction between her legs.

“You’ll be dressing and undressing me every day. And I like to sleep naked.”

She squeaked and shot back as far as she could with his arm still around her waist. “I don’t want to see you naked.”

He whispered the tips of his fingers over her neck again, and her head fell back, giving him better access. What was she doing?

“Have you ever seen a naked Alpha, Omega?”

“I don’t answer to Omega.”

He growled. “You answer to whatever I call you.”

“You want me to touch you, then call me by my name.”

His brows shot up, and his hand stilled. “No. You’re my prisoner. You get no requests. No negotiation.” The backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek like a lover’s would. But he was not her lover. “Every single thing that happens between us, will be because you want it. Remember that Omega.” His gaze burned. “I’m not forcing myself on you. That moment when you—a Sardi—lower yourself to plead for my cock, will be worth waiting for.”

“I won’t beg. I’ll never beg.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded tremulous.

His hand returned to her hair, and he bent her neck to the side. He leaned forward. Lips tickled the shell of her ear. “When you do, you’ll know I’m your Alpha.” His mouth brushed against the thudding pulse below her jaw, and she jerked. There was a hint of his warm tongue, then he bit. Hard.

Her cry broke over the rain thundering on the tent.

That wanton, strangled sound couldn’t be coming from her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her fingernails dug in.

How did that feel so good? The heat of his desire filled the air and pressed around her in waves, making her head muzzy. His hand dropped from her hair to her back, pulling her into him.

His teeth moved down the column of her throat and bit again. Maybe even harder.

Sardi didn’t mark the neck. It was disgusting, debased behavior for the lower classes. To bruise an Omega like this was … filthy.

She wanted more. A primal need surged through her, and she clutched at him. She whispered, “Yes.”

He stilled. They were so close now she could feel his heart hammering in his chest. His humming became a ragged growl. It traced up her spine like an electric current, making her insides clench tight with a jolt of pure lust. Her back arched, and she leaned into him, parting her legs.

His hand slipped from her back to between her thighs. His lips trailed along her neck as his fingers stroked … there. She’d touched herself before, found fleeting glimpses of pleasure, but this was completely different. He teased over her. Despite the trousers she still wore, his fingers seared with heat. When one of his fingers played with exactly the right spot, she cried out.

Kassandra’s hips rose greedily. She rocked, riding his hand, his fingers. The fabric between them was a barrier, but she didn’t want him to stop so she could remove it.

Faster. She needed more.

He gave her more.

Every muscle tensed, she barely breathed as all her focus was on what he was doing. Waves of pleasure built, she was on the edge?—

He stopped. “That’s enough for today, Omega.” His hand withdrew, and the humming stopped.

Her sex throbbed for release. “What?” An unintelligent response, but it was all she could muster.

One side of his mouth curled. “Did you want more?”

The tent crackled overhead with an angry burst of wind, reminding her of where she was.

She was with the Warlord who’d just slaughtered his way through Anatolia. What the hell just happened? With a jerk, she sprang off his lap. “No. Of course not. I despise you.”

He sat there, regarding her with a cool, amused expression. She’d love to slap him, only he’d probably like it. “Good,” he said. “Remember that when I’m buried inside you and you’re breathless from how well I’ve pleasured you. We will always be enemies.”

Teeth gritted in frustration, skin damp with a sheen of sweat, she hobbled to the bed, grabbed a sleeping skin, and turned her back to him. Her blood was on fire. She wanted to whine with the aching need between her legs. Aphrodite-above it was intense. She wanted release, but it was also more than that. Omega need, Omega want, clawed at her.

No. She shook her head, trying to force it to clear. No.

With a flourish, she tossed the blanket on the floor far from his bed and lay down. It was small, but so was she, and it was more than she’d had at the temple.

She rubbed her thighs together. It wasn’t enough. Her hand drifted down, but she pulled it back with a huff. If she pleasured herself, he’d know. He’d hear.

No way. She wasn’t giving him that satisfaction. This had to be how Omegas always reacted when they were alone around Alphas. She’d never been alone with one before, only in chaperoned parties and dinners. Her reaction wasn’t because of him. That humming, his prime Alpha power filling the room, the first time being touched like that, it had simply overwhelmed her. She needed rest, that was all. Next time, he wouldn’t get to her.

She clenched her hands into fists. Next time, she’d beat him at chess and escape.

As she drifted off to sleep, his scent floated over her and kept her rubbing her thighs together, seeking a release that wouldn’t come.