Only of what Kavik thought and said. But he said nothing now, and she couldn’t read his face, except to know that his expression was like cold steel again.
Mala sighed. “I imagine it is too dangerous for you. Who needs leather and a collar? A man’s leash grows between his legs. I would only have to tug on it a few times to make you mine.”
“Then a woman’s leash must be much shorter.”
She laughed. “So it is. And harder to find.”
His hand shot out and snagged her belt. Surprise stopped her laugh when he dragged her toward him, the leash twisting as it rolled along the ceiling beam. Her thighs hit the edge of the table, but he continued pulling. Suddenly breathless, Mala swung her feet up and planted them beside his flagon.
Kavik shoved aside her sword and knives. Strong fingers gripping her hips, he settled her in front of him—with Mala sitting on her heels, and her arms still stretched overhead, but almost all of her weight on the balls of her feet.
He swept her cloak open. The red fabric pooled on the table around her. Her breath stopped when he pushed her knees wide.
“How many tugs?” he asked softly, but his voice held the edge of a blade. “How many tugs until you’re mine?”
Her heart thundered. “I don’t know. No one has had me.”
“I will.” His long fingers untied the sides of her molded leather cuirass. “And I will not be the one who is tamed.”
He would. Perhaps not today. But she would not fail in her quest.
Until then, she would take her pleasure in being with him. Her breasts felt tight and heavy when her armor loosened. He couldn’t remove the cuirass, not with her arms bound over her head, but he didn’t need to. At her waist, his hands slipped beneath the armor and linen undercloth that protected her from chafing. Warm callused palms scraped over her ribs, drawing a shudder of breath from her lips. Her skin seemed afire beneath his.
And by the gods, his face was the finest sight. There was no ice now. Only heat, as arousal joined the anger. His gaze followed the path of his hands, as if he could see her skin and his fingers beneath the armor.
But although her nipples ached for his touch, he could go no higher without ripping the cuirass apart. Perhaps that was for the best. The sharpest ache centered lower.
His burning gaze rose to hers as his hands slowly journeyed to her belt. Panting softly through parted lips, she didn’t look away from his face as he whisked away her furs. Cooler air kissed the skin of her inner thighs. Though her knees were spread wide, the soft loincloth tied around her waist hung between her legs and concealed her from his sight.
But not from his fingers. His hand slipped beneath the cloth and found slick, bare flesh. Oh, sweet gods. Her head fell back, and she couldn’t stop her moan—didn’t want to stop it. By Vela’s blood, she wished it were the full moon.
A roughened growl penetrated her bliss. “You’re already drenched.”
Disbelief filled his voice. With a breathless laugh, she looked to him again. “What did you expect? I have wanted you since the maze, warrior.”
His eyes closed, as if in sudden pain. “Since the maze,” he echoed hoarsely. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”
“Then I don’t know why you’ve stopped,” she said, and his eyes flew open again.
“I won’t.” He dragged her closer and bent his head. “Not even if you beg.”
He swept aside the loincloth. Her body trembled, and she forced her muscles to steel. Then his strong teeth nipped the inside of her thigh, her hips jerked forward, and she would beg, she would beg if he didn’t bite her again.
But he didn’t bite. He gripped her hips and tilted her forward and licked. And licked again as she cried out and pulled against the leash, bucking against his mouth and thanking the goddess for sending her to find this man. This beast who growled and held her still as he devoured her.
Abruptly his head shot up and he stared past her with jutted jaw, glistening lips, and the promise of death in his eyes. But even as she realized that someone had approached the table, they must have retreated, because he dragged her closer again.
So he wouldn’t hurt her . . . and he wouldn’t share her, either. Chest heaving, she whispered, “Kavik,” and he looked up at her through thick black eyelashes as his mouth gently closed over her clitoris—and softly tugged. He tugged again, and this time she screamed his name, then begged, but not for him to stop. Never to stop, and to give her more, and harder. He licked and tugged again, and again, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She suddenly froze, her body straining, then shattered all at once when he followed another lick by thrusting his longest finger deep into her sheath.
The orgasm ripped another scream from her, her body writhing and her inner muscles clamping down on him. His satisfied groan buzzed through her flesh. Her spine arched, because now it was too much, she’d begged for more and he’d given her more than she’d been ready for.
His licks softened and slowed. His finger slid from inside her, and though he still held her knees open his touch had changed. The kisses that moved up the length of her thigh weren’t hungry, but almost reverent.
Then a soldier shouted, “If your head’s down there, little pony, she’s got you tamed already!” and Kavik shoved her off the table.
Her blood still roaring, she swung from the beam before her toes found the floor again. Her legs were as steady as pudding. Over the soldiers’ raucous laughter, she heard Kavik call for another ale.
She grinned down at him. “I didn’t count how many tugs that was, warrior. You might have to do it a second time.”
He shook his head. His skin had flushed with anger again—at her, at himself, or at the soldiers, she didn’t know. He downed the ale in a few great gulps, then without looking at her, reached past her thigh and slipped his broad thumb into her swollen sheath.
Mala gasped, her muscles tightening around him. She canted her hips to allow him deeper access, but he was already withdrawing his hand and rising from his seat.
Holding her gaze, Kavik brought his thumb to his lips and sucked her wetness from his skin. “I’ll wait until I can fuck it.”
He abruptly strode past her, abandoning the table. Mala bowed her head, biting her lips against her laughter. She didn’t know if he was leaving her to hang or just going outside to jerk the stiffness from his cock, but either way, this quest had started out very well—and Kavik was not as cold toward her now as he’d been when she’d first stepped into the inn.
Light steps approached. Mala looked over her shoulder to meet Selaq’s concerned gaze.
“Do you need to be helped down?” the innkeeper asked.
“Is Kavik returning?”
“I don’t know. He is through the back chamber, gathering his clothes.”
So he might be returning. “I’ll wait. With another ale, if you’ll bring one.”
But the next steps that neared weren’t Selaq’s or Kavik’s. Mala swung around to face one of the soldiers, a drunken brute with greedy eyes and his erection making a tentpole beneath his brocs.
His gaze rose to her bound wrists before sliding down her body. “Your beast ran off to his den. But it sounded like he warmed you up good.”
Mala recognized this one’s voice. Little pony. “He did. Now walk away from me. He had my permission. You don’t.”