A crash of water sounded as she dropped down into the water then surged up to her full height. She looked like an exotic enchantress with water cascading down her body in the moonlight. Already her magic was weaving itself around his bones, beckoning him to do her will.
“Taunt you? Why, oh why, would I ever do that? General.” She added the last part like she couldn’t help herself.
His muscles coiled like a loaded spring. “What did I tell you about calling me that ridiculous name?” He recognized that dangerous glint in her eye; it was the same look she wore before chaos ensued.
Ryon stepped into the water, moving to stop the impending destruction.
That didn’t stop her. “It’s what I want to call you, so I will. There’s no changing that. Why do you continue to fight a war with me that you can’t possibly win?” she asked.
He closed in on her, mere feet separating the distance between them. Warm supple female to hard aching warrior.
She slipped the second strap off her shoulder.
Bare skin, mounds of palpable flesh with hardened tips bobbing gently from her chest. Her sleek ribcage flared out to wide hips. Beckoning him like a magic spell. Exquisite. She bared her breasts to him like an ancient offering. The mouthwatering sight didn’t stun him as he might have expected, but empowered him instead.
Ryon charged forward, catching her startled intake of breath a moment before he snatched her by the shoulders and pulled her into his arms.
“Say my real name,” he demanded.
He couldn’t catch his breath; neither could she. His control was a thin piece of thread tethered to an anvil, fragile strands softly snapping as the weight proved too great to hold. She knew what he wanted to hear, but refused to give it.
“General.” A breathless hitch hung in her answer.
Bare breasts pressed against his crisp shirt and he captured one with his rough palm, snatching it. It felt incredible. Better than he could have imagined—soft, warm skin and a mound that filled his hand. His fantasies couldn’t live up to the real thing, not even close. He palmed her with growing intensity, molding her and learning her shape, the texture of her skin, the firmness of her tit and nipple. His shaft throbbed with undisguised longing.
Indecision skewed across her face: the need to obey and disobey warring in her mind. He could see her thinking, struggling to choose the right path.
Her breast heaved in his hand, yet she kept herself tightly guarded against him. He could see it in her hesitant scrutiny. He’d need a battering ram to strike down those walls—and he had only a few days to do it. He had to make his mark now.
Ryon pinched her nipple between two fingers, applying pressure until her eyes snapped back to his. Then, as he held her attention, he gave her an order as he had to many a soldier.
“Say my name.”
Chapter 2
General Ryon Amadeus Ward was a hulking beast of a man.
He befitted his stature as General of the Tarlèan military to perfection.
He was a hero to all. Even to her. Though she doubted she could ever admit as much to him.
Thanks to him, the Tarlèan people had managed to stave off attacks from the Avagarians.
The Avagarians are their deadliest enemies; an uncivilized tribe of horrifying beasts that lived on the eastern-side of the country. They called it the Wastelands. Only one hundred acres of forest separated the Tarlèan kingdom from the Avagarians’ Wastelands. Living on infertile land at extreme temperatures left few resources for the savages. They tried to survive by murdering and pillaging from Tarlèan resources.
Many now regarded Ryon as a war hero. Before Ryon was promoted to general, the raids on their kingdom had occurred monthly with dire costs. The Avas had targeted the silver mine and attempted to blow it up. Silver was their greatest weakness. When in their deadliest, bestial form, silver acted like acid to their flesh. Silver was now the Tarlèans most sought-after resource. It was used on all manner of weapons and even embroidered into clothing as a sign of wealth.
The attacks didn’t just come at the mine. The Avas attacked homes of innocent people. They looted their meager belongings, like the animals they were. Penelope lost her parents in such an attack. Ryon’s younger sister, Faye, later came to the same fate. They all shared a common enemy.
The matter between Ryon and Penelope was a difficult topic. They were both demanding people and neither of them wanted to cave in and change. Ryon lived his life by leading a charge using his intelligence to win, instead of his brawn.
Penelope was similar, yet different to him. She used her charming wiles to enamor people. With her dancing she could bring joy and happiness to those who normally don’t feel it. She created art with her body through straining poses and leaping movements to music. She told a story through dancing. The power she felt while dancing made her feel like a god. It was no wonder why she and Ryon clashed so often—even while they fought their burning desire for each other.