Warlord Reunited: 3 (Barbarian Claims) by Cynthia Sax Page B

boot-covered ankles. “I’ll capture Berke and come back for you.” Elle stood back, studied him and nodded curtly, satisfied he wouldn’t be able to free himself.
    “Don’t go anywhere.” She continued along the corridor, glad to be away from Berke’s brother, away from the physical pain he caused her.
    Berke will cause me another type of pain . She steeled herself for that confrontation. I’m stronger, stronger than he thinks.
    As Elle approached his private chambers, she frowned. The alarms around the back entrance had been activated. Did they expect the brother to stop me? She snorted softly as she placed tabs on the sensors. Berke had always underestimated her, his weak human mate.
    Prepare for a nasty surprise, Warlord. Elle pressed her glove against the control panel, the simulated handprint mimicking Berke’s creased palm and scarred fingers.
    The doors slid open and a tantalizing wall of musk hit her, Berke’s scent holding no pain, only pure pleasure. My male. Elle’s pussy moistened and her nipples tightened, the rush of emotion making her head spin.
    No. She pressed her lips together, fighting her arousal. He’s no longer your male, Elle. He’s your target. Focus on your target.
    She slipped inside, searching for a shadow to hide in. There wasn’t any concealing darkness, the space brightly lit, and panic rose within her, swirling with her desire.
    “You shouldn’t be here,” an achingly familiar voice rumbled, Berke’s words reaching deep inside of her, weakening her knees and stripping her pride. “It isn’t safe.”
    He stood in the middle of the chamber, clad in black leather leg coverings and nothing else, his chest bare, his body harder, more muscular than she’d remembered. Berke’s angular face sported new scars, his left eyebrow split in two, his countenance more striking than handsome. He dominated the space, magnificently male and arrogantly unarmed, a cold-blooded predator in his prime.
    “It isn’t safe for you.” Elle aimed her gun at his chest, her fingers trembling, her need for him fierce. She’d missed male companionship. She’d missed him…desperately. “You know why I’m here.” Blood tickled her top lip, the metallic taste seeping into her mouth.
    “You’re bleeding.” Ice clung to Berke’s words, his coolness chilling Elle to the bone. “Who dared to harm you, gerel ?” He met her gaze, his black eyes intense and deadly serious, and she suppressed a feminine shiver of delight. That banked passion was for her. He cared that she’d been harmed. “Give me his name and I’ll rip his heart out.” Long, sharp claws extended from his hands.
    “The honor of ripping out your heart is mine, Warlord.” She wiped her sleeve under her nose, dampening the fabric with her blood, fighting the urge to go to him, to touch him, to lose herself in his embrace. “But first, I have a different use for it.”
    “My heart is yours to use.” Berke slowly retracted his claws. “Tell me what I have to do to ensure you leave the Chamele system.”
    He wants me to leave. Elle pushed away her pain and her need, focusing on negotiating, a skill she excelled at. “Until I grant them permission, Khan and Murad are not to abandon Zeta and Gale.” As you abandoned me on Dorian 2.
    “My brothers won’t ever leave your friends’ sides.” The Warlord sighed, his chest rising and falling. “I’ve tried to separate them.”
    He tried to separate them because he believes my human friends aren’t good enough for his brothers. Elle brushed the trigger of her gun with her thumb, irritation sharpening her desire. “Good. I won’t allow them to cause my friends pain.” As you caused me pain. “I’m also taking fluid samples from you and your brothers.”
    Berke’s thin lips flattened. “Cloning is against Chamele law.”
    “I’m not cloning you or your brothers,” Elle retorted, planning on only cloning their scent or skin or heartbeat or whatever it was that soothed their