I stalked forward, hoving mere inches from Assyria’s pointed ear. “Say my name one more time and your punishment will triple.”

She sliced a glance at me and bared her teeth. “Are you going to keep talking or are you going to take action, Halálhívó?”

My nostrils flared as I sucked in a steading breath. Blood ran hot in my veins. I took a step back, trying to snatch at the self control she so successfully unmoored with every one of our interactions.

Silence fell as I raised the paddle to strike her.

Then, I made the mistake of glancing forward, beyond Assyria, and saw a dozen males raking their teeth over their lips and nudging each other. Like they were going to picture this scene later, after night had fallen.

A beast, so wild and foreign, roared inside me, calling for their heads for daring to think about my fucking mate in that way.

I grappled with it for control because I was the Fates’ chosen, the only male capable of slaughtering the Angels before they could exterminate us, and

I

Did

Not

Yield

To

Anything.

Especially for this female who had so unceremoniously upended the trajectory of my life.

But that beast fought harder, aided by our bond. I gritted my teeth and tried to force my hand to move forward. It wouldn’t budge. Muscles bulged in my neck.

Assyria glanced over her shoulder at me, boasting a self-satisfied smirk.

That snapped the last thread of my self-control.

With a growl, I tossed the paddle to the side and snatched her waist. In one smooth motion, I threw her over my shoulder, and then I was striding for the command center, the quickest way back to my tent where I’d deliver the punishment without the lecherous eyes of my soldiers drinking in the sight.

I paused for half a step, Assyria pounding against my back, to snap at Rapp, “The ones who looked a little too happy about watching the punishment, secure them to the bars for my return.”

Without waiting for a response, I blew past him, adrenaline and primal urges pumping my legs forward. Assyria was about to receive every ounce of abhorrence I had for her. I would break her to my will and regain control of this dynamic if it fucking killed me.

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36

Rokath’s rage was like a thunderstorm—violent, clashing, and promising to drown me in a deluge. Yet he couldn’t follow through with his threat in front of his precious soldiers, and that pleased me greatly. Especially after he’d called me his personal fallen in front of them all.

I gritted my teeth around the audacity of Rokath’s explanation as to why I was accompanying the army north. The brands on my wrists burned at the reminder. Especially as I smacked them against Rokath’s backside, asking the Reaper to curse him for his brutish behavior.

I couldn’t find it in me to be sorry for speaking his real name aloud either.

The flaps of the tent were still tied back, allowing Rokath to easily sweep me inside. Finally, he released his grip on me. I spun on my heel and bolted for the exit, but Rokath anticipated my move and snatched me from behind.

A scream ripped from my throat as a memory of Vagach doing exactly that the day I killed him surfaced. Maneuvering us to a chair, he settled us into it, finger digging into my hip bones. I thrashed as the black tent morphed into the kitchen at the estate in Stryi. The scent of oranges assaulted me. Something firm wrapped around me, and then that scent disappeared, replaced entirely by spice.

“Assyria, it’s me,” Rokath’s voice broke through the fog of my trauma. But Vagach’s garnet eyes burned into me, clawing me back to a time where I was helpless on the floor beneath him.

My heart thundered against my ribs, and I trembled from head to toe. He squeezed harder. “Find me,” Rokath commanded in my mind, and my thoughts latched onto him like he was the path out of the dark.

With a heaving cough, I returned to myself. Rokath’s metal armor bit into my arms, pinching my skin. I clung to that sensation to ground myself to the present moment. Swallowing, I forced myself to take long, slow breaths.

As I calmed, Rokath relaxed his hold on me. “I am so sorry, Assyria. I didn’t mean to trigger a flashback.” The anger that had boiled inside him now simmered.

“How did you know?” I breathed, closing my eyes to prevent the tears from falling.

“Mental connection. I saw what you saw.” His tone took on a hard, violent edge, just as it had when I’d thrown Vagach’s abuse in his face during our first encounter.

“You must have gotten off on it then,” I said, though my tone lacked the bite I wanted.

“There is a difference between abuse and punishment,” Rokath rumbled, easing me around so I faced him. Then, he gripped the horns on his helmet and pulled it off his head. He set it gently to the side. The concern with which he regarded me nearly stole my breath. “Many soldiers develop the type of trauma you have after watching their friends die on the battlefield. It is different, but your reaction is not new to me.”

I looked away, unable to meet his heavy gaze. “But you still punish them.”

“If they break the rules, I do. No one is above them, as I stated to the whole army.”

I scoffed, snatching at embers of rage to protect myself. “Except for you, Xannirin, and Kiira. Probably Rapp too.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Do I need to add that to the list of information you need to keep to yourself or risk facing reprimand?”

“Might as well,” I grumbled. “I can’t do anything without your permission anyways. Should just add speaking in general.”

Something sinister flashed through his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”

I rolled my eyes.

Rokath raised a dark brow. “Does that reaction indicate that you are sufficiently recovered to receive your punishment?”

My mouth popped open. “You’re really going to do it after what just happened?”

“When you are ready, I absolutely am. Can’t have you thinking you can use your emotions to avoid the consequences of your bad behavior,” he growled, hand coming up to grasp the base of my skull.

He was entirely serious about this. I bared my teeth at him.

His face closed in on mine, and my breath hitched. But he didn’t stop there. “Bend over,” he snarled in my ear. The heat of his breath made me shiver.

“No,” I said, shoving against his arms and trying to rise.

He pulled away, showing me the fury in his burgundy eyes. “You said my name, three times. And two of those were after I warned you. You’re going to take your punishment, and you’re going to do it right now.”

“Make me,” I shot back. A flood of lust swept down our bond, and then, I realized it was the wrong thing to say.

Because Rokath did. In one smooth motion, he flipped me so I was on my stomach splayed out across his lap. He pressed one large hand into my back, while the other smoothed over my rear. Beneath my heaving breasts, his cock thickened.

“Normally, I’d pull up your skirts and do this on your bare skin, but after what happened to you, I am not going to be that much of an asshole. This isn’t meant to traumatize you but to remind you that I am in charge here,” he explained like I was some fucking child.

A hard smack landed against my ass, and I yelped in surprise. “Did you seriously just spank me?”

He did it again, harder this time. “Much like the rest of these males, you have rules to follow.”

Twisting, I punched him in the side. My knuckles met with his hard armor, and I cursed, shaking out my hand. “Fuck you, Rokath.”

A sinister laugh rumbled in his chest. “While you only said my name three times, your insolence deserves more than that. So start counting to thirty.”