Filthy Beginnings, page 5
part #3.50 of Ruthless Warlords Series
He’d had guards watching her more diligently than usual since they’d dragged the fearless Alpha away.
But no one had mentioned him since—and she was not stupid enough to ask.
Yet a hundred questions about the Alpha burned raw and desperate on her tongue like the sharpest spice.
And that restless need that had flared inside her since his appearance had not abated.
It pulsed within her, a hot, searing flame of need between her thighs—and it would not go away, no matter how much she willed it otherwise.
Thank the Goddess for the cuffs and collar at her wrists and throat, because she’d peeked under one while she was in the washroom and noticed thin, curved lines snaking around her skin—marks that she suspected would make Egan even more watchful.
“What do you know of the fighter who attacked security?” Egan barked the question as two beta servants finished brushing her hair and tying the straps of her sleeping gown.
“Nothing, Alpha Lord.”
“You have never had contact with Damien Skolov before?”
Prizes were allowed little privacy. There were even guards outside her bath. Egan’s questions were ridiculous, his only purpose to rile her.
But his words had the opposite effect. Finally, she had a name.
“No, Alpha Lord.” Damien Skolov. She turned the name over in her mind, shivers rippling down her spine. She liked it. Strong. Wild. Just like him.
Goddess, she hoped he was okay.
“You will do nothing to encourage him.”
Her heart beat fast. Did that mean he was still alive?
Every fiber of her being screamed yes.
Otherwise, why was her skin still itchy? Her core swollen? Her body reaching for his, as if the Alpha held a magnet and drew her to him even now.
He had to be alive.
“Did you hear what I said, prize, or do I need to get the strap?” Egan was more of a businessman than a fighter, but that did not stop him from doling out a beating.
She forced herself to focus. “I am listening, Alpha Lord.”
“You’d better be.” He nodded to security to check the closet. “Fighters like him care for glory and gold, and the younger they are, the dumber and more they have to prove. They want their prizes—but only while the shine holds and their blood is fired by competition. Once that ends, they’re on to the next trophy. Don’t be stupid enough to think you’re anything more to him than a few wet holes and another short-lived victory.”
“Yes, Alpha-Lord.” Pretending, always pretending. When what she really wanted to do was to leap forward and claw Egan’s eyes out.
He wasn’t warning out of concern, but to protect the consortium’s interests.
At Egan’s order, one guard marched to her window and peered out, though her view was the dome wall and a hundred-foot drop to the ground below.
While visitors to the dome stayed in top-of-the-line guest quarters full of all the latest amenities, all consortium-owned personnel lived in sterile, gray-tiled housing just outside the sight lines of the glittering golden stadium and tourist streets.
Her room was a small space that housed a narrow bed, a thin blanket and pillow, and a closet large enough to contain the sheer scraps of fabric chosen for her to wear by the consortium.
The only other item in her room were the restraints.
“Next time you perform, pay special attention to N’gal Verish and Kadon Stormhart, not some gutter trash Skolov whose family is not even a part of the Brotherhood. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Alpha Lord.”
She’d seen N’gal Verish at several fights while training to be a prize. She did not like the cruel glint in his stare, or the way his antennas and wings twitched when she was near. Nor his reputation as a sore loser in the ring.
As for Kadon Stormhart, he was not the Alpha for her either.
Admittedly, as a young girl, she’d had a tiny crush on him. He’d fought in lesser training tournaments alongside her brother and, since one of her tasks as a prize-in-training was to greet the fighters as they entered the ring, she’d seen him often. Golden-haired and square-jawed with a body honed by battle, thick black horns and silver skin, she’d sighed right alongside her friends as he fought. But she’d never imagined a future with him—and she certainly didn’t, now that she knew the truth about him.
Plus, she’d never had a reaction to him like she had to the horned, red-skinned Alpha with the broad forehead and mouthwatering skin designs.
Security finished their checks. “All clear.”
“I want two guards outside this door tonight.” Egan’s gaze flickered to her. “And tie her to the bed. I will tolerate no more complications on her account.”
A cry of alarm escaped before Scarlett could muffle it. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
The restraints were usually only used for punishment.
“Silence.” Egan nodded to Nars. “Do it.” He paused. “But don’t make the binds too tight. Skin paint will only cover so much.”
“I-I can get on the bed myself.” Panic slid through her, unbidden colors flashing across her skin, including the same violent pink as earlier, and a sudden jagged burst of black. It was accompanied by a rush of heat in her closed palms.
She had never liked Nars or the others touching her, but since seeing the red-skinned Alpha, it felt like a desecration.
Nars ignored her, grabbing her upper arm and yanking her toward the bed. Hard.
Only in the next heartbeat, the guard groaned, his grip dropping away as he doubled over.
Hand pressed to the red mark left behind on her skin, she slid out of reach.
Egan backed up as well.
“What’s wrong with you, guard?” Egan’s hand clamped over his scent muffler like a shield. “Are you sick? Contagious? I just said I can’t afford for anything to go wrong.”
“No, I—” Nars’s eyes sank shut, drool dripping off one tusk.
Scarlett hoped he was really, really sick, and that Egan caught it too.
“Get out of here.” Egan waved toward the door. “Go to the med center. Don’t come back until you’re cleared.”
“But—”
“Go!”
Nars shuffled out.
Egan’s narrowed gaze returned to her, every pent-up frustration from this lunar rotation burning in his stare.
Menace thickened the air.
The three security guards at his back growled low, excited by their leader’s aggression.
A flash of magenta shimmered across her skin. Followed by a thicker line of black, its essence dark and violent. Just like earlier when the guards had hurt the handsome Alpha, and when Nars had hurt her.
But there was no time to wonder what was happening with her gift.
“On the bed this instant.” Egan’s voice shook the room. “Unless you want all four limbs tied spread eagle with guards inside the room watching your little light show up close and personal all night.”
The guards’ snickers dulled her colors, including the ribbon of black, before it disappeared altogether.
Left with no better option, Scarlett followed orders, slipping into bed and raising her arms above her head.
“You better not give me any more trouble, prize.” Egan snapped the bed restraint to one wrist cuff and then the other. “I’ve got enough to worry about with this new investor. I will not have you or that space trash Damien Skolov bringing me down. He has his own plans for that cocky bastard, and I have no intention of pissing him off.” His fetid breath washed across her cheek. “You best remember. Nothing breaks as easily as a colorful, flimsy toy.”
His words sent an ominous chill through her.
But before she could reason out more of what his words might mean and who this new investor might be, Egan strode away, the security guards close at his heels.
The lights went out.
Darkness flooded the room.
Slam. The door shut and locked.
She was alone. Finally. The restraints kept her tied to the bed, but had enough length to allow her some movement—so she slid her arms down as much as she could and, for the first time all rotation, let loose.
Furious reds and vibrant pinks flashed across the walls. Followed by vengeful yellows and rebellious oranges. None of the colors meshed prettily, and all swirled with bold, jarring ribbons of black that pulsed with aggression.
And those black strips grew thicker with every heartbeat, consuming the other colors with a monstrous hunger that felt almost insatiable, the heat inside her near-blistering.
Scrape. A noise issued from somewhere close by. Could it be a guard reopening the door? If so, this was no sanctioned visit.
Stiffening, she sucked the sensations into herself, smothering her colors and leaving only the inky blackness of the room behind. “Who’s there?”
She cocked her head, listening.
Scrape. The faint noise came again.
She shifted, trying to pinpoint the sound, her wrists straining against the ties.
A huge form appeared at the side of her mattress.
Instinct kicked in. Fear, too.
A bright yellow cloud of color erupted from her skin in a sudden flare of blinding light.
“What the—”
As darkness returned, she remembered her brother’s instructions, her leg sweeping out to hook around her ambusher’s vulnerable knee.
He pitched forward.
She balled her hand into a fist and struck out as far as her restraint allowed—only to notice the fire searing her skin, the now familiar throbbing at her wrists and throat.
It was him.
“Whoa, now.” Damien Skolov’s hand caught hers before she could connect. “I’m not here to hurt you, beautiful.”
Her brain caught up, her terror sliding away. Replaced by a new set of equally tumultuous sensations.
“I only want to make you feel good.” He landed on top of her, his hips pinning her to the mattress while he guided her arm back over her head. The lower half of his heavy body rested between her spread thighs, something huge and thick pressed against her core.
A core that was instantly wet, swollen, and desperate for him.
New colors flashed across her skin and danced over him like a caress: carnal, vivid crimson and violet chased by deep, harmonious blue, painting them both in sensual hues that pierced the shadows and outlined the rugged face and square jaw inches from her.
“Stunning.” His voice was a sinful rumble as he rocked against her. “Like the rest… of you.” His head dipped, his nose skimming along her throat, his voice deepening as his sentences fragmented and the haze of his deepening rut scented the air. “So… fucking… sweet.” The tip of his tongue curled around her earlobe. “I’d climb… any height for a taste of you.”
Lost to the haze of the omega heat, she moaned low, her eyelids fluttering closed. His scent was mouthwatering, the sharp bite of leather, ice, and power flooding her lungs.
“I knew… you were… the one.” He held himself above her by one arm, the muscles bunching and flexing in a captivating display. The other slipped beneath her sleeping gown, sliding up her leg, the rough heat of his palm against her skin making her desperate. Wild.
Lifting her hips, she ground against him, the thick firmness of his leathers the perfect friction against her core.
He groaned low. “Fuuuck. So… damned good. Going to mark you… rut you… breed you.”
A faint voice inside Scarlett called out a warning to slow down, but she easily drowned it out with the roar of sheer, desperate lust thundering through her veins, and the swirl of stunning colors blinding her to anything but the beauty of this moment. Of him.
She’d been waiting for this male her whole life.
“Damien,” she whispered his name, the sinful sweetness of saying it aloud making her rub against him faster. If only she could hold him to her… but this… this would have to do.
“Yes. Say… my name… Until it’s time… to scream it.” His hand slid down to grip her bottom, working her body up and down his shaft as if he’d read her mind. “Don’t worry… about the guards. I… paid them off. You’re… all… mine.”
“Yes.” Her back bowed, her breasts tight and aching as everything inside her coiled tight.
“Touch… me, Scarlett. I want—” His voice trailed off, his movements stilling.
“No, please.” She was so close. “Don’t stop.”
“Egan tied you to the fucking bed?” He rocketed off her.
Her haze of lust cleared enough for her to register the murderous look on Damien’s face—as well as the sheer recklessness of what she’d just done.
He whirled toward the door. “I will fucking kill him.”
6
“Wait. No.” Surging upright as far as the restraint would allow, she tried to catch his arm—and missed. “Don’t. Please.”
Already at the door, he stilled, the muscles in his forearm flexing as his fists clenched.
She spoke fast. “You can’t kill him. Or be seen coming from my room. I’ll be punished. You’ll be banned from the tournament. Please. Think this through.”
Low, feral growls rumbled through the room.
Panic pooled at the back of her throat. “Please. I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Gaze hot and angry, the Alpha turned, rubbing at his sternum. “I can feel it. Here. You’re not fine. Not at all.”
She sucked down a breath, her spine flattening against the flimsy headboard.
He was right. She wasn’t. But it wasn’t the restraints. She was used to those.
It was her.
She had never been so reckless before. So driven by lust that she forgot everything else, even her survival.
Even now, the urge to slide down the bed and beg Damien Skolov to pick up where he’d left off thundered through her blood, a drumbeat of filthy, raw need she could barely leash.
“You need to go.” Her gaze flickered toward the door. It was a miracle they hadn’t been discovered. At least they were both back to speaking in full sentences now—and he’d stopped before he marked or rutted her.
His scowl deepened. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“The guards—”
“I paid them enough not to hear anything at all. Right now, they’re down the hall, being entertained by a couple of omegas who are also being paid handsomely to keep them distracted.”
Oh.
No wonder no one had come. Bribes were a way of life in the dome, but with no money of her own, she usually could not take advantage.
Apparently, Damien Skolov did not have the same problem.
He stalked toward the bed.
Tugging at the restraints, she curled her spine into the headboard, yellow splashing across her skin. “What are you doing? I know it might seem from my willing behavior before that—”
His jaw went tight. “I would never fucking hurt you. Or force you.”
And yet, he kept coming.
Even the muscles in his neck bulged as he loomed above, arms outstretched.
She held her breath.
But those massive arms only extended past her, lifting her and the mattress with minimal effort, his big hand sweeping beneath. “There.”
The restraints holding her to the bed sagged.
He dropped the mattress, but didn’t step back. She landed with a bounce, flat on her back, his big body above hers.
“Better.” He wasn’t asking. Instead, he stared down at her with a satisfied look. For the first time, amber edged out the red of his gaze and she glimpsed his natural eye color outside the throes of rut.
It was almost as disorienting as the realization that he’d unclipped the restraints from beneath the bed.
For such a brawny guy, he was proving to have a resourceful mind as well.
“Thank you.” Sitting up, she rubbed at her wrists, the long end of the restraints dangling against her thighs. It was nice to move freely, but even without the ties, her skin beneath the cuffs burned. Just like her throat.
Just like the throbbing, swollen area between her thighs.
All because of this Alpha.
“I never want to do anything that would cause you harm.” His earnest, deep rumble snapped her gaze back to him.
Her chest pinched tight. She felt the same.
Literally. As if faint, invisible tendrils stretched from him to her and back again, telegraphing the chaos of his emotions: protectiveness, lust, need, frustration, and fury, as if they were her own.
And maybe they were.
All she wanted was to beg him to touch her again.
But that could not happen. He was a fighter. She was a prize. If caught, there would be no end to her suffering and his.
“I-I appreciate you freeing me. But I need you to put the restraints back.”
His amber eyes—streaked with red—flashed with defiance. “No.”
She kept talking. “Then you need to go. This was…” she forced the words out, “a mistake.”
He snarled low. “No mistake.” He slapped the flat of his palm against his chest. “I feel you here. All those vibrant colors, sinking beneath my skin, staining every cell so I’ll never look at anything the same ever again.”
A soft sigh escaped. No one had ever said anything so lovely to her before.
“You feel it too, Scarlett. I know it.” His tone had deepened to a low, coaxing rasp. “You and I are what happens when everything is just right.”
Her body responded to his disarming statement, slick pooling between her folds.
She did feel it.
But she had to be smart, to think of her own survival and his. Hadn’t her brother warned her against letting lust and love rule her choices?
“You need to stay away from me. This,” she gestured between them, “won’t end well. It’s forbidden to touch a prize before a champion is decided.”
“Good thing it’s already decided.” His voice pitched to a low, teasing rumble, his mood shifting from intense to playful as easily as a fighter executing a feint and jab.
