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The gray gloom had deepened into twilight by the time their travel stopped, and the Warlord lifted her down from the horse. Kassandra took a step and winced. Her feet were better but still sore. He didn’t spare her a glance before slipping into the darkness and barking orders as camp went up around a few large central fires. Two guards slid into place next to her, both frowning.

After sitting on a horse for so long, something she was out of practice doing, her lower back wasn’t too happy, and she bent side to side to try to loosen it up.

Cian strolled around a wagon and walked up to her. “Have fun with the Warlord all day?” he said with a sneer.

Her face flushed with heat. “Leave me be.”

His eyes narrowed. “Ordering me around? Can’t say I expect much else from a Sardi.”

Kassandra put her hands on her hips. “I thought you couldn’t talk to me?”

“No Alpha tells me what to do anymore.” He jerked his chin up, and his blue eyes turned stony. “I had enough of that from your people.”

Kassandra marched to Cian until they stood within two feet of each other. “ My people created a prosperous peninsula. For centuries.”

“Oh yes. Prosperous through the enslavement of everyone else. Who kept the money they received from the trade routes? If it was shared at all, which was seldom, it was only to those the Sardi saw fit to reward for their hard work. And if you didn’t measure up—” Cian drew a finger across his throat. “Forget it.”

“No.” Kassandra shook her head vehemently. “There’s no way the Sardi killed people who contributed to the greater good of the peninsula. If anyone was … ended … like that, they must have been criminals.”

Cian laughed. “The Sardi really do a good job making themselves believe their own crap, don’t they? Is it a crime to want to choose your own Alpha? Or your own lovers?” Cian stared pointedly at her neck. “You’re not bonded to an Alpha, and you’re certainly old enough to be married. You had the freedom to go to the temple instead of being married off to someone you didn’t choose.”

Her lips tightened. “I’m not that old, I’m twenty-eight.” He was right though, most Sardi women performed their bonding ceremony when they were barely out of their teens. There was a reason her father had never seriously pushed her into marriage. She hadn’t lied when she told the Warlord she was defective—she was. Every Sardi who lived near the palace knew about it, which was why her father tried to arrange a marriage for her in Argos.

Her face burned with shame, and she was grateful for the darkness so Cian couldn’t see. “I’m not free anymore.”

He frowned and glanced away.

“I couldn’t leave the temple, even if I wanted to. The mountain passes are treacherous, and you have to know the correct route, or you’ll lose your way. I wasn’t there by choice.” She was only supposed to live at the temple for a year. Her father told her a year in silence would make her more grateful to a potential mate. After he’d died, her entreaties to her brother to return home only got one short message in response—he’d told her she was where she should be.

Cian opened his mouth, then closed it, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Now you’ve got the Warlord after you.” Cian’s expression seemed more open, but maybe it was a trick of the rain. “Briseis is hopping mad.”

Kassandra’s brows rose. “What?”

He chuckled. “I’m serious. After he took you away, she got up and kicked a crate and hurt her toe. If she isn’t the flower in the meadow everyone wants to pick, she’s a fright. And I’d say that even if she stood right here next to me.”

“Well, she doesn’t need to worry about me, I’m a weed, but instead of being pulled, I’m being cultivated for a specific purpose.”

The Warlord’s words about defeating the Blood Laws by breeding her rang through her head.

She was a prize of war. Something he wanted to toy with.

She’d turned all those other Alphas away, not only because their smell didn’t entice her, but because she wanted her Alpha, her mate for life, to be worthy. To love her. None of her father’s selected Alphas wanted her for herself. They wanted the Sardi princess, who’d give them a huge dowry and a direct line to the king. Now, it was the same with the Warlord. He didn’t want her. He wanted a Sardi princess he could trot out for his subjects whenever he chose.

She sighed. “Tell Briseis she can have him. If he leaves me alone and chooses her, I’ll give her everything I own.” She peered down at herself. “Which is only these clothes.”

Cian’s lips twitched. “Oh, she’d rather die than wear those pants. And that cloak is last year’s cut.”

Kassandra huffed. She ran a hand through her sopping hair and lingered at her left temple—the spot where prostitutes had to dye their hair. “What was your life like? How did you become …” She trailed off, unsure how to ask him about his past without offending him.

“How did I become a gentleman of the night?” He chuckled drily. “I always liked that name for us. Made me think I was some kind of powerful creature prowling around.” He shrugged. “Typical story for those of us in the brothels—I got caught with an Alpha I didn’t have permission to date. He wasn’t going to be my mate or anything, but he was lovely, and I wanted him.” Cian sighed. “When the Sardi caught me, I had two choices. Die, or become a prossy until they deemed me rehabilitated. Then I’d get to return to my merry life of gathering salt from dawn to dusk.”

He studied her coldly, and she dropped her gaze. “They were mostly upset because they wanted me paired with an Alpha female,” he said. “There aren’t many male Omegas for the few Alpha females around, and they wanted us to breed to see if our male children would be Omegas.”

Kassandra frowned. “They must not have known you wanted someone else.”

Cian sneered. “Oh, come now. They knew. They didn’t care. They wanted me for their breeding experiment, end of story.” He turned toward camp. “Enough of this, I’m stretching my legs.” And he walked off.

Kassandra slumped to the ground. Dully, she sat in the chilly air as the rain beat down in sheets and the wind gusted, making it difficult for those setting up the tents. Crouched over a hissing fire, the cook worked against the weather, turning several haunches of meat on a large spit. Since they hadn’t broken their fast all day, the aroma of the ox leg had her stomach gurgling, but thinking about eating made her nauseous.

Was Cian speaking the truth? His story played over and over in her head. It was such a cruel punishment.

She pictured the Betas at the palace who cooked and cleaned. They were Tyrrhuscans who lived in Sardi cities, their accents long gone. They were always friendly with her, but were they forced into their labor too? Had they secretly hated her?

A shadow blocked the light cast by the fire, and she peered up at the Warlord standing above her. With the fire at his back, his face was all shadow in the rapidly falling darkness, but she felt him studying her. He grabbed her arm to haul her to her feet, but she jerked free and stood by herself.

“Come, since you’re too foolish to get out of the rain.” He wrapped a hand around her arm, but it was gentle. He led her through the men sitting around the fire to a large burlap tent.

Smaller than the one he’d lived in at the beach, his tent still had enough room to stand and move comfortably in front of the massive bed. The thick pole in the center of the room pushed the roof’s fabric so high that even the Warlord could stand without brushing his head on it.

“Greta brought you dry clothes.” He pointed at the bundle on the bed. “More male garments, no more princess gowns for you.”

Ha, he thought that was a punishment? She hated dresses and would have worn only trousers if her father allowed it. One of the few things she’d liked about the temple was that she could wear what she wanted, even if they were shabby, outgrown discards from the Beta male gardener.

She let her face fall and her lip quiver and pinched the cloth of her pants as if it offended her. Would he buy her act?

It seemed to work. “When your feet are healed, you’ll help the cook with the evening meal if you aren’t attending me. Everyone has a job here, including you.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.

Quickly, she pulled on the fresh clothes and let out a small groan. After sitting in the rain, dry clothes felt like heaven. She bent forward and wrung her hair out, then carefully hung her out-of-fashion cloak on one of the tent poles to dry and patted it thankfully. It had tried to keep her dry all day, but with conditions like these, it was impossible.

Whirling quickly, she scanned the tent and inspected for weapons. Nothing. Her shoulders drooped, and she sighed. She hadn’t expected otherwise, but she’d still hoped.

She sat on the bed, fingering the curling tips of her hair while considering kicking down the center pole and letting the tent crash to the ground. Maybe that would give her a few minutes to run free. And then what? Race for the forest in the rain? To go where?

No, she needed a better plan. And healed feet.

Despite being smaller, the tent still had his books and maps, and Kassandra walked over to the small table where they rested and unrolled the largest map. Anatolia lay spread out in great detail, with small notes detailing villages and cities. She scanned it and found Sarda City, where they’d started their journey. Judging by the sun, they’d gone north since leaving.

Thick lines indicated the main roads, with thin, brown lines, more like squiggles, veering off to show lesser roads. Since they were an entire caravan, they must have taken the major road north.

She followed it with her finger. If they’d taken a sharp northwesterly route, they would curl into more of the Sardi lands, then eventually enter the Tyrrhuscan lands. Going that way ended with the sea.

That meant they probably were bearing northeast instead, headed toward the massive city-state of Argos, which spread all the way to the Dorian lands, dominating the entire north of the map, all craggy mountains and treacherous paths.

Argos was allied with the Sardi, so if they were taking the road near Argos, it could be a good place to escape.

She frowned. The Argos leader knew her, but may not be too motivated to help her. Four years ago, he’d come to her father’s court expecting a marriage alliance with her, but she’d chosen the temple instead. What if he still wanted to marry her? She’d be in the same situation she faced now with an Alpha wanting her at his side, only the Argos leader was an odious, self-absorbed Alpha who smelled like rotten persimmons.

“Is it only Argos and the Dorians in this direction?” Her shoulders drooped. “Wait, what’s this?” At first, it appeared to be a smudge, but when she leaned closer, she saw a small note at the tip of the Argos area—the city-state of Eretria.

Eretria.

Her father disliked Eretria, they were too small to offer much to the Sardi, and the leader rarely came to court, but she had met him once. He was an older, round man and he’d brought his bondmate, insisting she join him at dinner. Omegas were rarely allowed to attend a state dinner. Kassandra was only allowed to join for the predinner activities in order to meet men her father wanted her to meet, and play the lute for their entertainment. Afterward, it was Alphas only until the men shifted to one of the parlors for more wine.

Finding Eretria would be her goal when she escaped.

The tent door flapped, and she jumped, quickly re-rolling the map. The Warlord shouldered inside, holding a heaping plate of food. He eyed her momentarily, his gaze drifting to the table behind her with his maps. “Sit.” He gestured to the small mat on the ground before the bed.

Her lips in a tight line, she slid onto the floor, sitting cross-legged. Being ordered around by him was getting old, fast.

He put the plate on the ground and sat facing her. “Before every bite you eat” —he pointed at the food—“you have to feed me a bite first.”

Kassandra stared at him. Her lip curled in disgust. “I’m not feeding you.” After he had forcibly held her against him all day, touching him again was a bad idea. She needed space if she didn’t want to react to him any longer. His smell, the way he’d touched her hand and neck, had teased her during their entire ride together, and she’d felt his length straining against her. As his cock stroked up and down movements along her back, she didn’t notice any of the scenery, even though she’d wanted to travel all her life.

Her trip to the temple didn’t count. They’d kept the palace wagon windows tightly sealed, not wanting her to see the route in and out of the mountains. And her trip back she’d been too frightened about meeting the Warlord to notice much of anything.

Her first chance to really see Anatolia and it was his fault she hadn’t gotten to enjoy it.

All she’d focused on was where his body touched hers. It was like the heat of him burned into her.

“Alphas feed Omegas. Not the other way around.” Her voice cracked, and she wanted to cringe.

He chuffed. “No. Alphas feed Omegas they’re pursuing as a mate. You’re only a Sardi and I won’t be courting you.” With one finger, he pushed the plate toward her. “Your role is to serve me in many ways.” He stared at her for a long moment. “Get used to it.”

She turned her head away.

He lifted the plate off the ground and stood up. “Then you don’t eat.”

As he walked back out, she gritted her teeth and choked out, “Fine!” Tears stung her eyes. Her nausea had dissipated as the aroma of the spicy meat filled the tent, and now she was ravenous. A rush of fury and hatred burned her so hot she thought steam would sizzle off her. He was treating her like a servant.

She took a deep breath. Then another. Calm down. She’d play his sick little games until she escaped.

Head bowed and eyes trained on the food so she didn’t have to look at him, she scooted closer between his legs. Since there were no utensils—probably on purpose—she grabbed a piece of meat with her fingers. As she turned and shoved the meat at his lips, he caught her wrist and slowly guided the food to his mouth. He took it and sucked the juice off her fingertips, swirling his tongue.

Her pulse skyrocketed as she whipped her hand back. Every time he touched her, her limbs went heavy, and her blood turned to sludge. It needed to stop.

Kassandra took a larger piece of meat for herself and chewed. Its flavor burst as the juices released—slightly seared and tinged with camp smoke. It was delicious. They’d had very little meat at the temple.

She fed the rest to him in silence.

When the plate was empty, she stood to escape his lap, but he grabbed her wrist and tugged her back down. He hummed his evocative, slow croon, pulling her farther into his lap. When she wiggled, it only seemed to help him wrap her around him, her thighs straddling his waist.

The vibration from his chest trickled deep inside her. “Stop that.” The noise made her lose all focus. It made her forget who he was—and simply want.

A hand stroked up her spine, under her shirt. The lulling chords intensified, and the scent of his arousal filled her every inhale. It consumed her like a slow, obscuring fog.

Why did he smell like this? Out of all the Alphas, why him? It was intoxicating. She wanted to rub her body on his and let his aroma seep into her skin everywhere.

The gold eyes darkened, and his pupils dilated. She gasped, and her hands landed on his chest. This was her enemy, but her fingers curled to bring him closer, not push him away.