Ruptured: The Cantati Chronicles by Maggie Mae Gallagher

was not an inch of fat on his body. It was all sculpted muscle with whorls of dark hair dusting his chest. His eyes burned in blatant male hunger. His eyes feasted on my naked form and the bulge in his low-slung pants strained against the material.
    I should be worshiping his body and thanking my lucky stars to have a man in such fine physical form as to be descended from the gods. I should want him. Any other woman would rejoice and anticipate the night ahead. But not me.
    He adjusted his hard flesh.
    Repulsed, I twisted the knob, cutting off the water flow. Cade had the shower door open before I could blink. Uncaring of my wet form, he yanked me from the shower. My damp flesh met his heated, rock-hard form and shivered. His eyes smoldered, thinking I anticipated his attentions. It could not have been further from the truth. Hatred boiled in my gullet. If it hadn’t been for the death threat hanging over my men’s heads, I would have ended Cade here and now.
    I started to pull away. To do what, I had no idea. All I knew was that I detested his hands on me, wanted to gouge his eyes out and keep them from my naked body.
    His powerful hands stalled my backward progression and propelled my body up alongside his. “Remember,” he chewed out, “your life and those of your squad leaders depend upon your performance.”
    Hatred burned inside. I would kill him for this violation. I had to perform otherwise my men would be exiled. I sliced off my turbulent emotions at the knees. I lifted my hands to his chest.
    “Yes, I remember,” I responded, my voice sounding detached, covering the boiling disgust I felt, like I was a robotic doll.
    Cade smiled in apparent victory. He carried me into his bedroom and laid me upon the bed. His mouth descended, claiming my parted lips as his big body followed mine onto the bed. His hands were everywhere, stroking, petting. His fingers cupped my breasts, and he moaned, grinding his hips against me. He reached for the zipper of his pants.
    Sirens blared. Furious pounding sounded on my door.
    “Fuck! This better be important.” Cade withdrew from my body and the bed.
    “Cover yourself,” he growled, marching to the door.
    Spurred into action, I yanked the covers up around my form as he opened the door.
    “What?” Cade snarled at Quinten and three of Cade’s men.
    All four had a direct line of sight of me in bed, and I felt my cheeks heat. It was bad enough for them to know in theory that I was Cade’s bed partner, now they had an eagle’s-eye view.
    “Drystan’s armies are moving against the city, sir. General O’Hare requested your presence in the Command Center,” Quinten replied. He handed him a missive, which I assumed was from the general.
    Cade crumpled the orders between his Herculean hands.
    “Give me five minutes.” And he slammed the door in their faces.
    A lesser woman would have cowered against the wall. Everything in my being defied him and rejoiced in his thwarted attempt to claim me. The gods had granted me a reprieve, and I had to bite my lips to keep the smile from my face.
    He glanced sharply at me and pointed a finger toward me.
    “Don’t think this is over. We will be picking up right where we left off. And I mean exactly where we left off, with my dick about to slide into your tight cunt.” He snarled in apparent sexual frustration. I watched him calculate the general’s ire should he not report immediately and deemed it unworthy of potentially losing his prize.
    In under three minutes, he was fully clothed and armed. While I remained with my covers up to my chin.
    He stomped over and hauled me up. The blankets slipped from my grasp. He drew me close, and his lips claimed mine.
    “Don’t even think of rebutting me or leaving this room,” he ordered gutturally as he withdrew from me on a moan.
    He tossed me back on the bed and headed for the door, uncaring of the state of my undress. Bastard would likely parade me naked through the Compound if he could to