Free Warrior by Cara Bristol Page A

tongue, even nips of his teeth, he consumed her flesh like she was all that existed between him and starvation.
    Rapture so strong it rendered all other pleasures insignificant rippled through her body. With a keening cry, she arched. He drew her labia into his mouth and sucked then parted them and lapped at her slit. Whether by accident or intent, she could not guess, but he swiped his tongue over a spot at the apex of her sex and a sensation of such intensity knifed through her she could hardly bear it.
    She grabbed his hair and twisted hard, to hold him off, but he fluttered his tongue over that same special spot, reducing her to a writhing, howling creature.
    “Monto, Anika, Monto,” he growled. He thrust his tongue into her breeding channel as if to scoop out her moisture. What he found must have pleased him, because he groaned with such satisfaction, she nearly expired right then.
    With his thumbs, he spread open her sex, teased the little nub. Fire spread through her loins, into her womb. Pressure, such pressure. Ecstasy detonated at the site and reverberated in a shockwave.
    Anika cried out, thrusting her hips at Urazi’s face. He wrenched away, flipped her over, and hauled her to her hands and knees. He guided his manhood to her entrance and pushed inside. Something tore, and she cried out, but the pain evaporated, and her body was driven by passionate need to thrust against his. He continued to pound into her, eliciting another blaze of rapture.
    Her whimpers mingled with his hoarse exhortations, harmony and melody flowing to a perfect beat. Urazi shuddered, and, deep inside her very being, his manhood contracted to spew forth his essence.
    He collapsed then, flattening her to the mat, but he sought her hands and threaded their fingers together. He buried his face against her neck, his breath steamy and ragged.
    Deep in her core, small tremors continued to ripple, but, as the tide of ecstasy receded, she was dragged into an undertow of sad resignation.
    The gratification she experienced with Urazi confirmed she could not become Ilian’s breeder ever . She could not stand to have her body invaded by him—to have the memories of this evening slowly erased by contact with the Commander.
    But despite the incredible intimacy they’d shared, she suffered no illusions about Urazi’s fealty. He would fulfill his duty by hauling her back to Marlix, who would present her to the Commander.
    She had to leave.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Urazi awakened to the blushing chill of dawn and warmth in his chest that came from acceptance.
    He could never give Anika to Ilian. He suspected that had always been the case—he had fooled himself to think he could allow another to use her, had clutched his self-delusion in self-defense against his growing feelings. But he held no illusions about the future. After Qalin and Artom’s defeat, the hunt for Anika would ramp up, she would be found and punished. As would he. One did not flout an Alpha’s edict without consequence. Marlix’s word was law, and if he did not enforce it, adversaries would view him as weak and would challenge his command. Honor and sovereignty would force Marlix to make an example of them both.
    Under the camouflaging chaos of war, he and Anika could elude capture. But when peace reigned, they would be found.
    But in the meantime, they would have this time. They could indulge in newfound mutual ecstasy.
    Anika had joined him in physical rapture! He had been taught mating caused breeders intense pain—and his experiences using females in the sexual ways Protocol begrudgingly sanctioned had not discredited that promulgation.
    Had he and Anika experienced something unusual? Or had alphas had claimed breeding as their sole right because of the pleasures? He had expected to feel shamed by his actions, but instead felt almost unshackled . Hungry to experience more passions of the flesh. He did not desire his usual morning beverage—but to drink again from Anika’s