Manderian year 2456

Draken entered the training grounds at the Command Training Centre on the Tarula outpost with a heavy heart. The final exam to become an officer in the Halden army loomed over the cadets, although no one knew when it would take place. But instead of being focused, he had all kinds of distractions. By night, his recurring nightmare with its inescapable flames plagued his sleep and, by day, the sight of Zamal tormented his loins.

His mind told him only the exam mattered, but his body thought otherwise, craving her. While at sixteen most of his companions, including Zamal, had reached their sexual maturity, he still hadn’t. Not until now. Any other time, it wouldn’t matter—cadets and students all over the Manderian Halden were mating with each other when the time came. But, right now, his sudden desire for her meant trouble. He had no time for growing up and giving in to his instincts. However, asking for a hormonal suppressant would only get him reprimanded. Sexual initiation was meant to be part of their training. It just came at the wrong time for him.

Meal break arrived in a blur—between sparring sessions and digging fences.

Draken took his place at the long table in the mess hall and blended his voice with those of all the Halden Military Academy’s cadets. ‘I, Draken Kosset, citizen of the Manderian Halden, do hereby take the oath of allegiance and solemnly vow to be a brave, disciplined, and vigilant fighter. To guard strictly all military and Halden secrets, to obey without question all army regulations and orders of my superiors.

‘I pledge to study the duties of a soldier conscientiously and to safeguard the Halden.

‘I fully swear to protect the Halden obediently, skilfully, and honourably, without sparing my blood and my very life to achieve complete victory over the enemy. And, if through evil intent I break this solemn oath, then let the stern punishment of Manderian law fall upon me.’ Hundreds of voices spoke as one, stirring Draken’s spirit every time he repeated the ritual, thrice a day before his meals, every day for the last thirteen years.

At the end of the litany, as they all sat down in unison, silence fell in the mess hall, broken only by the sound of cutlery on their plates.

One by one, students whispered to each other until all the voices joined the buzz.

Zamal sat in front of him, her golden facial scales gleamed with captivating shades under the artificial lights. Her auburn hair was plaited into a complicated twist and gave an attractive highlight to her pronounced eye ridges. The tight black uniform displayed the slick movement of her muscles.

Draken’s pulse quickened.

‘Draken?’ Derrin nudged his elbow.

Derrin and Zamal were the closest things he had to friends but, in the last two days, they had both been getting under his scales. And now the turmoil inside his body disturbed him.

Distracted by her sultry beauty, he spun around with a snarl, ‘What?’

Zamal groaned. ‘You weren’t paying attention.’

He turned his focus to the plate and grunted. ‘I’m eating.’

‘I know when the final test will take place,’ Derrin said.

Draken laughed, but his eyes showed no sign of amusement. ‘So, when is it, according to your source?’ he snapped, trying to get away from his worries and shut Derrin up.

‘Whoah, now he wants to know,’ his friend replied, pursing his lips. ‘In six days, and it’s gonna be tough.’

Draken leered at Zamal for a millisecond, then lowered his eyes to his plate. ‘We already knew it would be tough.’ The main course—a bathai stew with ammok sauce—tasted stale, but Draken was used to that. After all, field rations didn’t taste any better.

Draken finished the stew and attacked the dessert, thankful for the same bad flavour because it gave him something other than Zamal to think about. He kept his eyes on the plate. Perhaps, if he ignored her, the lust exploding in his loins would go away.

‘The Black Squads will examine us. I know that for sure,’ Derrin said.

Draken wanted to leave the rest of his meal, but he couldn’t. As a cadet, they would punish him; leaving uneaten food led to smaller and weaker bodies. Not to mention, it was rude in civilian culture where there was never enough food.

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He suppressed an urge to vomit and said, ‘I wouldn’t expect any less.’

Derrin stood and picked up his tray. ‘I’ll be training at the gym until curfew.’

‘We’ll meet you there, as soon as we’re done here,’ Zamal replied.

A quick glance at her plate revealed it was empty. Why wasn’t she leaving with Derrin?

Draken’s groin quivered. His mind imagined their bodies intertwined, covered with the blood of their lust.

As the other students left to complete their daily tasks, all he could think of was Zamal’s body.

A slick movement distracted him from his lustful thinking as her left hand clutched his right one, boosting his blood pressure. He glued his eyes to the well-hidden cleavage, his heart exploding inside his ribcage.

A pocket knife appeared in her hand out nowhere. The swift movement woke Draken from the spell.

He yanked his hand free just in time to avoid the blade cutting through it from side to side. Tiny drops of blood fell on the table from a minor cut on his thumb.

Glaring, he gave her an aggressive nod as a sign of acceptance of her sexual challenge, a promise of pleasure and pain.

An erotic wave of lust wrapped around his body, an anticipation of the fight to come. He clenched his jaw to resist the urge to throw the table aside and wrestle with her here and now. That wouldn’t be appropriate, but resisting the temptation was so hard. Come to think of it, there wasn’t any part of his body that didn’t feel sturdanium-hard.

He straightened his tense shoulders and tidied their empty trays in a hurry, then followed her down the corridor to the training barracks, which included holorooms with thousands of different settings for the cadets’ training. They also had the benefit of being private, and perfect to get through their primal mating rituals and become of age.

Her hips swayed left and right, right and left, in a rhythmic, supple movement that made him want to either tear her head off or pound her. Or both.

When they entered an available holoroom, Zamal’s eyes met his. ‘The Witary Wastelands,’ she commanded. A hot desert with flat, black sand as far as the eye could see replaced the holonet.

Zamal’s wild beauty stood out even more with her hands on her gorgeous hips against the flat, barren land.

Draken tilted his head to one side, leered at the clean lines of her body. It screamed strength, and it made the blood burn in his veins.

He dropped into a fighting stance, arms gathered close to his chest, fists clenched, while she circled him with careful steps. Draken didn’t move but paid careful attention to the soft sound of her boots on the sand while she moved out of his peripheral vision. When she appeared again, the gap between them had shortened.

She lunged for his collar. He spun, sweeping her leg out, expecting to see her drop to the sand.

She surprised him by diving. He hit nothing but air.

They grinned at each other.

‘Nice move for a girl like you.’

A flurry of punches rained at his head. Draken caged his arms to protect it. But Zamal moved her attention to his torso, landing several blows to his ribcage. With a swift move, he grabbed her head and lifted his knee, striking her face. A solid crunch confirmed his hit had connected with flesh and bone. Zamal grunted and stepped back. She wiped her right eyeridge with her sleeve and cracked her knuckles before taking a combat crouch again.

Somewhere in their foreplay, her collar had been torn. Draken admired her cleavage showing the top curve of one suggestive scaly breast. Soon this ritual would be over, he would prove his dominance, and she would gleefully submit to him.

She spat to one side and took a long, slow gaze at him. ‘If you think I’m just going to lie down and spread my legs for you, think again.’ But the light in her fiery forest-green eyes and her dilated pupils transformed her words’s meaning into an invitation. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

‘Nice to know you’re considering it.’ He cracked a grin.

A quick intake of her breath suggested another wave of punches. He dived first; she stumbled and lost her balance. Taking advantage of her unsteadiness, he reached for her throat. He moved behind her in a forced chokehold, kicked the back of her knees, and pushed her down. ‘Surrender. You’re mine.’

She wiggled in a feeble pretence of resistance, her breath went in and out in gasps. ‘Is that … all you have, Draken Kosset?’

He grinned, kept his firm grip on her neck, and kneeled down, leaning over her to whisper in her ear. ‘I could kill you with my bare hands.’

Her wiggle subsided. He let go of her throat to grab her chin and turn her head to him. Her dilated pupils gazed at him, twinkling with desire.

‘You talk too much,’ she said as confirmation of her intentions, and the buckle of her uniform fell on the floor with a thud.