Page 39 of Taken By The Dark Three
“You can still say no,” he rasps, voice ragged. “I?—”
I cut him off with another fierce kiss, pushing my hips flush with his. A guttural moan spills from his throat, and I delight in hearing Vaelith—this stoic commander—reduced to near-incoherent desire. I peel at his cuirass straps, wanting him freed from its constraints. He fumbles at the fastenings on my leathers, breath jagged. The chaotic scramble of hands grows desperate, each item of clothing flung aside. The courtyard’s torchlight casts glimpses of obsidian skin pressed to my golden-olive flesh, sweat-slicked and trembling.
When I think about it, I realize how reckless this is. Any guard could walk in, any soldier could witness their commander in a frenzy with the purna prisoner. But we’ve gone too far to stop. Our mouths clash again, the taste of him fusing with my own breath. My pulse roars in my ears, a savage tide that devours thought.
When we finally tear apart enough to speak, our bodies align, friction thrumming. He utters my name, voice low and pained. “Selene,” as if cursing and worshipping it at once.
I respond by biting down on the junction of his neck and shoulder, a fierce claiming that draws a rough groan from him. “You want me,” I snarl softly. “Admit it.”
He shudders, hips rolling against mine. “I do,” he grits out, “and you hate me for it, don’t you?”
I let a feral smile tug my lips. “I hate that I want you back.” Then I arch my body, hooking my legs around his waist with a savage intensity.
He grips my thighs, driving forward. The pleasure-pain spike sears through me. A ragged cry bursts from my throat, echoing in the deserted courtyard.
The heat cools down after the release, we lie there cuffing each other's faces. Admiring every inch.
We stay like that for a moment before exhaustion claims us both.
14
VAELITH
Morning light filters through the tall windows of my private war chamber, brushing against my eyes. I stand near a massive wooden table strewn with maps and reports, but I’ve barely read a word of them. Instead, my mind can’t still process the lingering images of last night—my blood still thrums from the fierce, raw intimacy Selene and I shared in the courtyard. I can’t forget the way her body felt against mine, how her anger matched mine, stroke for stroke, until we collapsed into a moment that was half violence, half desperate need.
It unnerves me how easily we shattered every boundary. She’s exactly what my superiors warn me about: a purna bursting with defiance, a threat to Orthani’s order. I loathe her kind—I lost too much to her species to simply ignore it—but I can’t deny that I’m drawn to her with a force that shakes my discipline. This morning, my entire being feels torn between duty and a conflicting desire to keep her close.
I pivot away from the table, letting out a slow exhale. A soldier steps inside, saluting stiffly. “Commander, the men await your orders for today’s scouting drills.”
I nod, forcing composure. “See that Sergeant Marek handles formation. I’ll join them shortly. First, there’s another matter to address.”
He acknowledges the order and steps out. I cast one last glance over the scattered war plans, my gaze sliding off the lines of attack and supply routes. None of it holds my attention the way it normally does. My thoughts drift to Selene’s parted lips, that savage flash in her eyes when we fought—and how quickly that fight melted into heat I can’t name. My stomach twists, uncertain what to do next.
With purposeful strides, I leave the war chamber, heading down the corridor toward the second floor of my estate. Normally, a purna of Selene’s caliber would be locked in the lower cells or kept under constant guard in the training barracks. But after last night, the idea of her returning to a damp cell churns my insides. She’s proven too valuable, too powerful, and—gods help me—too enthralling to degrade that way. The council might want me to keep her on a tight leash, but I’m prepared to make a different arrangement.
I pass a pair of guards who bow politely as I approach. One of them, Garen, glances at me with a flicker of curiosity. Rumors swirl about my relationship with Selene, no doubt, but none dare to voice them openly. “Guard,” I say, “the purna—Selene. Bring her to me in the east wing common room. Now.”
He snaps a salute. “Right away, Commander.”
Once he heads off, I continue along the hallway leading to the east wing. This part of the estate used to house visiting dignitaries. It features larger chambers with decent light and a bit more privacy. I walk past empty lounges, noting the hush that settles when my soldiers see me pass. For all their suspicion of purna, they sense I hold a stake in Selene’s presence. Let them wonder. My mind remains fixed on the decision I made upon waking: no more dungeons. She’ll have a private room,better accommodations, if only so I can keep an eye on her—and perhaps find a measure of peace with what happened between us.
The east wing common room is spacious, featuring tall windows draped with deep blue curtains. A soft rug covers much of the polished floor, and the walls display minimal decoration—just a few paintings of Orthani’s mountainous frontiers. I stand by the window, ignoring the faint hush of the city outside. My breath feels uneven, as if last night’s friction lingers in every muscle.
Soon enough, footsteps approach. The door swings open, revealing Garen and another guard escorting Selene. She steps inside, posture taut, face betraying none of the storm I suspect rages in her chest. My gaze flicks over her, recalling how she felt pressed against me, how her breath caught when I pinned her to the courtyard post. The memory sends a pulse of heat along my spine.
She levels me with an unreadable stare. “You summoned me, Commander?”
“Yes.” I signal the guards to leave. They exchange a glance but obey, closing the door behind them. Once alone, the hush between us vibrates with tension that crackles like a live current. She stands with her chin high, arms folded, as if bracing for another confrontation.
I keep my tone steady. “I meant to speak with you sooner, but the morning demanded my attention. I trust you slept… well?”
Her lips quirk, a mocking glint in her eyes. “My rest was fine, considering the bruises from last night’s tussle.”
My gut clenches. I recall how we battered each other before giving in to raw lust. Guilt mixes with an unexpected surge of arousal. “I’ve made an arrangement,” I say, forcibly turning to practical matters. “You won’t return to the dungeons or trainingbarracks. Instead, I’m assigning you a private chamber here, in the east wing.”
Her brows arch, suspicion flaring. “That’s a sudden shift. Why the mercy?”
I exhale, crossing my arms behind my back. “It’s not mercy. You’re valuable, both as a fighter and as… someone Orthani expects me to keep in line. I see no point in chaining you to a cell if you continue to prove you can follow orders.”
