Caged Warrior

Again, she wanted his confidence.

One day. Soon.

“Admit what, sir?”

“Stand. Lift your head.”

She did as she was told. Limbs that should’ve been weak from exertion had recovered in record time. The feeling of inhabiting a body that wasn’t her own added to her disorientation. Dragon damn, she wanted to remember what had happened in that Cage.

Leto stripped the knife from her hand and tossed it behind him. Metal slid across concrete. He took hold of her wrists. Vises and manacles had nothing on his incredible grip. He could snap her hands clean off. Her shudder must’ve traveled between them because his lips parted. That was new.

She liked it.

“I wear new armor and a bandage because I was not at liberty to kill you,” he said quietly. “Your skills are already impressive. I ca

The truth of his words hit her like a blast of cold water. His grip slid from her wrists to her hands. Squeeze. His hypnotism wasn’t limited to his voice. She could barely detect what subtle devices he used to manipulate her body and mind.

But he was right.

“Yes, sir. I would be dead now had you not refrained.”

He nodded tightly. “Retrieve your dagger. We have hours to fill.”

♦   ♦   ♦

Two weeks later, Leto stood outside the locked gate that led to Ny

Soon, after her first match, Ny

Knowing her, as he was begi

Only when Ny

Even with the collar in force, his senses were remarkable. He’d perpetually developed the blessing. Once experiencing the rush of what he could be, he refused to let it go. He worked at it. Fought to keep what the collars stole. Trained until muscle memory followed him out of the Cages. Because of those senses, he knew she was still awake.

He also knew the habits she’d developed. When she managed to sleep. When she cleaned her body. When she trained.

Which was almost always.

Since those first contentious days after her arrival, she ate regularly and followed the regimen he dictated. Stretches. Weight training. Cardiovascular. She’d even found a way to do vertical sit-ups by hooking her legs over the top of the door of the cage. She’d progressed from a weak creature into a woman on the verge of untold boldness.

He peered through the gate bars and down the corridor that led to her dank, dark quarters. He shut off the bulbs at night—though, on occasion, he kept them on. Her training included being able to adapt to any situation. Only with his keen sense of sight could he discern her movements. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated. Scant glimpses of her body at work were erotic, dancing shadows. Every panting breath wove into his chest. She grunted. Gasped. Cursed.

Too faint for humans to hear, those sounds were for Leto alone.

Without the details of light, he recalled how she looked naked. Audible proof of her determined physical labor laced into his nearly perfect memory.

He could make her sound like that.

They could fuck. Hard. Aggression and combat layered over a fierce coupling. Afterward, they would lie together in a tangle of naked, sweaty limbs, as after twelve hours of training. Tenderness was for softer people in softer places.

He craved the release not even combat could provide.

Another of her determined grunts stirred his cock. He remembered bare flesh. Sensuous hips and pert breasts. A flat stomach. Long, graceful legs.

And scars. Scars she had not earned in combat.

The intensity of that memory spiked down to the base of his skull. What had been done to her was disgraceful and disgusting.

He blew out a sharp breath. Dragon-damned fool.

Past torments meant nothing when preparing for the Cages. Enduring the unknowns of Dr. Aster’s laboratory had likely made her stronger. He would use her past to forge her into a warrior, not wonder at the abuse she must’ve suffered.

She was a survivor, which made the mystery of her gift even more frustrating. How could she be so dedicated to martial training, yet refuse the most powerful asset at her disposal? She might as well be a human in a boxing ring. The Asters’ guests didn’t venture underground for anything so mundane. Their disappointment would be Leto’s failure to bear.

Clenching his fists into tight balls, he put the night’s goal ahead of every other consideration. He would push and push and push until something broke. Or until they forged into a single unit.

“Checking up on me?”

Ny

“Because you’ve given me cause to think you need to be observed,” he said. A brush of cool air against his forehead revealed he was sweating, too. Leto nudged the guard who stared at a flexible blond centerfold. “We’re going to the practice Cage.”

It wasn’t a request.

The guard only shrugged, although his bulkier, full-body armor nearly concealed the movement. They dressed as part SWAT team goons and part medieval warriors. The two might as well be the same thing. Things Leto hadn’t seen in person were difficult to comprehend. Refusing to be left alone, his mother had followed her young husband into the cartel’s complex in the hope of starting and raising a family. Leto’s father hadn’t believed in educating his son in the ways of the outside world. After all, Leto would become a Cage warrior. His future was set, while Yeta and Pell were prepared to emerge from the dark and find husbands from among the Five Clans. Yeta had succeeded; Pell had never been afforded that chance.

Yet their mother had been adamant in teaching each of her children life aboveground, including Leto. She had insisted that he understand all that existed beyond the cartel’s dark walls. A deep, edgy corner of his mind still doubted any of it. They were words, not concrete facts accumulated by his senses and his experiences.

Guards from the Townsends and Kawashimas wore their own distinctive uniforms, although Leto rarely noticed the details. He only thought about the other cartels’ Cage warriors when the Grievance pairings were a