Page 17 of Shai

before. When it came to numbers, we were evenly matched. Neither side had achieved anything lasting, apart from needing an influx of new recruits, who were far greener than the men they’d replaced. No, there had to be a better way. I just needed to find it.

The first snowflakes started to fall and I hunched deeper inside my

hood, both hands thrust deep in my pockets. With one last glance at the building, I turned back to the river, its inky black waters reflecting the lights from both sides. Staring into the water reminded me of the treasure recently plucked from its depths—my new reluctant houseguest, the one and only Elijah Page. He was fascinating, his expressions cataloguing exactly what he was thinking and feeling at any given time, whether that was fear, hatred, or some other emotion.

I smiled as I recalled the last few days. I’d deliberately left him alone,

sending him spiraling into confusion. When he entered a room, I left it, not even looking at him, never mind engaging in conversation. It had left him wandering the corridors like some sort of wraith doomed to haunt the building forevermore.

It was planned, of course, a deliberate action to throw him off balance,

to do the last thing he expected. Elijah Page thought he knew people. I’d seen it in his eyes when he’d tried to manipulate me into changing my mind about the test. He might know people, but he didn’t know me. He would need to rely on more than instinct to get one over on me.

At least my mother had steered clear of him. From the moment he’d

regained consciousness and become a living, breathing person, she’d lost interest, her sexual arousal only triggered by a low pulse rate and deathly pallor. While ignoring Elijah and instructing my men to do the same, I’d watched him covertly, interested in what he’d get up to. He hadn’t disappointed, spending the first couple of days searching the building from top to bottom and checking out the exits while pretending to be doing something else entirely. I had no doubt that his quick mind was making a note of anything he deemed to be useful.

Was three days long enough to have lulled him into a false sense of security? Maybe. It would probably be better to drag it out another couple of days, but an itch had started up beneath my skin, an itch that I needed Elijah to scratch. Waiting was a real bitch when I wanted to play.

I checked my watch—three a.m. It was time to pay Elijah Page a visit when he least expected it. A smile stole across my face and I quickened my pace, anticipation burning through my veins. Elijah was one hundred percent mine. He just didn’t know it yet. He would soon, though. The question was, was he going to be like Nyoko, all rebellion on the surface but eventually easily tamed? Or was he going to have more in common with the black mamba? Given he lacked the venom to pose a threat, I couldn’t wait to find out.

The compound was silent as I re-entered its confines. Like McIntyre, I had sentries stationed everywhere—highly trained men plucked from the military, or from underground fighting rings. Just like I couldn’t stroll into McIntyre’s place and finish what I’d started in one fell swoop, I ensured he couldn’t do the same. Not that McIntyre himself was capable of strolling anywhere. The man was so big, the walls would probably shake should he try and gain entrance. But I couldn’t rule out him finding someone to undertake a suicide mission for him, so the walls stayed up and the men remained vigilant.

I stopped briefly in my own room to collect a few things before making my way to the blue room. It was the room Elijah had been given to convalesce in, and I hadn’t seen any reason to take it away from him. Although, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered putting him in the room where he’d spent the night with the black mamba just to mess with his head. How many times would he have woken in the middle of the night with sweat drenching the sheets while he tried to convince himself he was alone? That was assuming he’d even be able to sleep in the first place. Perhaps he’d return to that same sleep-deprived state I’d discovered him in, his defenses so low that he’d all but melted in my arms before remembering that I was supposed to be the enemy. Moving him back there for a few nights was definitely something to consider if he disappointed me in other ways.

Pushing the door open carefully so that it didn’t creak, I stepped into the

room. The curtains hadn’t been drawn fully, a thin shaft of moonlight illuminating the bed and revealing the sleeping figure at its center. I moved closer until I stood right next to him. Elijah was facing toward me, his breathing pattern that of someone sleeping deeply. He gave a slight twitch, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids in a dream state. What sort of things did a man like Elijah dream about?

It was doubtful he was dreaming about me. Not yet. But we’d get to that

point. The point where I’d be the only thing he thought about, day or night, the thing that consumed his thoughts beyond all others. There was no doubt in my mind. Just like there was no doubt that I’d one day topple McIntyre from his throne. Elijah would be mine to bend and break, and to use as I wished, and in the end, he’d beg for that honor. I just needed to be patient.

Curling my fingers around the sheet covering him, I eased it down inch

by slow inch, running my gaze over the contours of the body beneath it. The vicious marks wrought by McIntyre’s rough treatment had all but faded. There was just the merest hint of them here or there, a touch of green or blue where there shouldn’t have been any. I didn’t plan on adding more.

Continuing my scrutiny, I painted his defined abdominals with my

interest. He was lean and lithe, just the way I liked my men, his body fat no doubt reduced by the time spent in McIntyre’s compound. I finally had something to thank my nemesis for. I pulled the sheet down another inch, disappointed when the waistband of the briefs Elijah wore came into view. That would need to change. I preferred my men to sleep naked.

Elijah stirred, but didn’t wake as I pulled the covers off him completely

until they slid off the bed into an unwanted heap on the floor. I gave myself a few more delicious seconds of perusing his near-naked form before prodding myself into action.

In one swift move, I straddled him, using my superior weight to hold

him still as I collected both of his wrists in one hand and pinned them over his head. My other hand, I jammed over his mouth. He woke immediately, his blue eyes going wide as he began to struggle. And oh, how he struggled. This was no half-hearted attempt. It was a full-on skirmish, his muscles straining deliciously as he tried to break free.

He squirmed. He bucked. He writhed. He tried to bite, forcing me to push down harder with my hand so that he couldn’t open his mouth wide enough to get traction. It was like riding a bucking bronco. He was magnificent, and I drank in every reaction from him, giving him just enough leeway to maintain the tantalizing prospect of freedom, while in reality he had no chance.

I wanted him to keep fighting, to keep grinding himself against me, my cock filling more with every brush, every press against it. It was such a disappointment when he finally burned himself out, his body going still, and his pants of exertion moistening my palm. Elijah’s eyes, though, still blazed blue fire—all of it aimed in my direction. If looks could kill, I would have died on the spot.

I savored his helplessness for a few more seconds, enjoying the way his chest rose and fell in a rapid motion, before releasing his mouth. He stared up at me as if I was some sort of succubus that had sneaked into his room to sit on his chest, which I supposed in a way I was. Now that his mouth was free, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, my groin throbbing all the more at the action. “What do you want?”

I smiled at him. “Exactly what you just gave me.”

His brow furrowed, the familiar look of confusion returning. He swallowed, the movement of his throat still visible in the moonlight. “I don’t understand.”