Gelan chuckled and leaned back to gaze into Wynhod’s
face. “Thought you had me, didn’t you?”
he asked.
The Nobek looked into that nobly handsome face with its
smiling mouth. He’d give anything to
kiss those lips, curved in anticipatory pleasure. “I thought you went down kind of fast. I wondered if you had neglected endurance
exercises.” Wynhod found a frown despite
the persistent arousal and euphoria muddying his senses. “You still should not have been so ready to
fight when I let you go.”
“I hyperventilated on purpose. It flooded my blood with extra oxygen,
allowing me to withstand your choke better.”
Wynhod remembered the rapid breathing Gelan had been doing,
and how it had fooled him into thinking maybe the Dramok would fall
easily. He blinked in slow
realization. “But that would mean you
planned for me to choke you all along—”
Wynhod’s mouth dropped open.
He had been played from the start of the fight, and played well.
“You manipulative bastard,” he said with appreciation. He grinned, impressed with Gelan’s ruse.
Gelan grinned back.
“I’m so glad you approve.” He
looked Wynhod up and down, and the spicy scent of Kalquorian male arousal
suddenly became very strong. “Now, Nobek,
let’s see if you feel as good as I remember.”
