The Taming: Book 3 in the Tribe Warrior Series by Imogen Keeper (romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

mouth dropping open, ready to tell him that she may have hated the restrictions on her old life, but at least she’d had some control over it, but he didn’t let her. He never did. She had no control over her own body around him.

He stopped her with a hard, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue filling her mouth until she couldn’t speak, couldn’t resist, couldn’t even think.

Why bother fighting, anyway?

He won.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Denying his control over her body was a wasted effort and a humiliating one as well. Better to focus on getting back to Argentus.

She had twelve more days to find someone in the universe who wanted her.

She let him take her away to a place where words didn’t matter, where her mind could coast, high on the way he made her body feel, and happy simply to be alive. And when it was over, he littered her skin with kisses, whispering sweetness and lies, pulling her close against him.

Her ear rested just over the slow and steady thump of his heart, and it was easy to pretend the safe, warm bubble of closeness was back. Her eyes drifted shut, lulled by the warmth of false intimacy.

He stirred, and she lifted lazy eyes. Her body was sluggish and leaden as she tilted her head back. The victorious look in his eyes had her lurching upright, clutching the covers to her chest. Would it kill the man to just let her be, just once, let her enjoy the moment without antagonizing her?

“You fell asleep on me,” he said.

“I did not.”

His lips curved on one side. “You did. There’s a puddle of drool to prove it.”

She glanced down. There was.

He lifted her chin with his finger so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. What she saw there was more earnest than she’d have imagined he was capable of feeling.

“I’m not as bad as you want to believe. I’m doing this to keep you safe. If you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t pass out on my chest naked.” His thumb stroked her lower lip.

“I was tired.”

He held her chin firmly. “It’s midday.”

“I can be tired at midday.” Her voice was sullen even to her own ears. “I want my clothes. Now.”

The other side of his lips lifted into a full smile.

Monster he may be, but he did have a beautiful smile. She lowered her brows and jerked her chin away.

He smiled cheerfully and swatted her bottom. “You promised to be civil.”

“I didn’t promise to be your whore.”

His eyes narrowed, and a dimple flashed dangerously. He pulled his hair back into a tight bun at the top of his crown, tying it off with an elastic band, muscles bunching jerkily with every motion. “No. You didn’t. If you were my whore, I’d be balls deep inside you right now. If you were my whore, we’d have spent the last seven days with your head between my legs. Not the other way around.”

She flinched away, annoyed at the way her body clenched and pulsed at the image he conjured. “You’re disgusting.”

He tossed the covers to the floor in an angry jerk. “It’s all good when I’ve got my tongue up your cunt, but the second I want to talk to you like a real person, you spout bullshit. At least admit to yourself that you like the way I make you feel.” He paused at the doorway. The black tattoos swirled across his torso in angry contrast with his light skin. And all those scars.

“You’ve never met anyone like me. Not your stupid Assamo, or noble Spiro, your prick of a father or anyone else who followed your stupid manners. You have more fun fighting with me than you’ve had in your entire life. Hate me for that if you like, but at least grow up enough to stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m no—”

“I make you feel alive, amiera. I make you sing, in bed and out of it. I set you free to be the person you were born to be. I’ll make you happy if you’ll let me.” His voice burned along the back of her neck, trailing up her spine. He stalked into the passageway, his voice echoing behind him, lingering in the air, inescapable and haunting. “Don’t you dare take a bath. You’re showing up on Vesta stinking of me so everyone knows what you are. Get dressed.”

SHE FLOPPED BACK on the bed, kicking the covers down to her feet. His words echoed in her ears. So everyone knows what you are. Not a wife. Not even a whore. A slave. A prisoner.

Her whole body shaking, she turned away from her reflection in the bulkhead, flushed cheeks and skin rubbed pink around her breasts and between her thighs from his beard stubble.

She rolled off the bed, taking a deep breath of air that for once wasn’t saturated with him. Whenever he was close, her brain shut down and she couldn’t think clearly. All she could do was smell him and want him.

The deck was cold under her bare feet. The plant she’d taken from the dusty planet trailed from the side table, draping over the deck. The white leaves had nearly doubled in size, and the vines had stretched to three times their length. The flowers had been tiny on the planet, the size of her pinkie nail. Now, they were as wide as the pad of her thumb, lush and as iridescent blue as the wings of a butterfly, and their honeyed scent had intensified too.

She tipped a splash of water from the bottle on the side table into the cup in which the roots sat. At least the flowers were thriving.

She tugged the top sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her body on the walk to the bathing chamber. Tor hadn’t replaced the hatch. She’d grown accustomed to bathing in front of an open hatch. It didn’t matter. He’d seen every inch of her body now, multiple times over.

But his people hadn’t. Whatever else they were to