ILLYRIAN PRIDE

PROLOGUE

Devlon was a striking figure as he made his way through the Illyrian camp. His broad shoulders beneath a comfortable cloak and his large wings tucked in gently.

The harsh cold in these mountains was not for everyone. But after nearly seven centuries Devlon was used to it. Even more so, he cherished it.

He was a harsh male. A practical male. An Illyrian through and through.

Many despised him for it. But he was alive long enough to find purpose, and make something of his life.

As he approached the training ring his gaze narrowed.

The witch-girl was at it again.

The torches at the side of the ring burned low, and with the setting sun it was getting harder to see.

"Training is over, girl." He almost growled in dismay.

Sorcha looked up at him, eyes rolling. "Obviously, my lord."

In any other case, her defiance would be cause for a harsh discipline lesson. Lashes at the very least. But his hands were tied these days. Devlon could hardly break the General's daughter. He'd trained Cassian himself. He knew what that bastard was capable of, if enraged. Not to mention the girl's mother; Lady Death.

She turned to her drills, the wooden sword clutched tightly in her grip. The training doll was in bad shape. Someone would have to repair it for tomorrow's training. He scowled again.

"This isn't Velaris girl, you can't just do whatever you want, whenever you want it." He scolded. "The are rules-"

"Rules?!" She shrieked, turning to him once more. The wooden sword lay discarded on the snow as she approached.

Devlon wings fluttered at her nearness. He thought again of discipline, but instead of lashes or chores, he thought of her over his knees, her bare ass in the air.

His palm itched.

That bloody witch was driving him insane. There was no other explanation for his thoughts.

Devlon snarled at her, teeth bared. "You want to be a soldier, then you must follow orders. Rules."

Sorcha dared to smirk at him, "Do you follow the rules, Devlon?"

His eyes narrowed on her smirk, her lips. He curled his itching hand into a fist.

"Get. Back. To. The. Barracks." He seethed.

Sorcha's cheeks flamed at his tone.

"No."

Devlon sucked in a tight breath. This girl was unleashed upon this earth to test him.

"Get inside." He snapped.

"Devlon-"

"Now."

Sorcha rolled her eyes again, "Just leave me be. We both know that you're only barking, my lord."

Devlon's patience snapped, his hand shot out. He dragged her towards him by a fistfull of her hair.

"You're nothing but a spoiled little brat." His teeth were inches from her face.

Sorcha let out a soft sigh. His blood ran cold at the sound.

Was she-

Devlon's nostrils flared.

The little brat was enjoying this?

Sorcha leaned into his warmth, her chest grazing his with each heaving breath she took.

Her hazel eyes burned. She hated him and everything he stood for. And so did he...and yet that fire in her also contained desire.

He was a harsh male. A practical male. An Illyrian through and through.

Devlon hadn't survived all these centuries by luck.

He should wash his hands clean off the General's daughter. The little brat was nothing to him. Devlon should let her go. He needed to let her go.

His brain was sending those signals to his body, although his limbs seemed reluctant to comply.

Sorcha raised herself on her toes. Her nose brushed against his. They were out in the open, the training ring was visible to all. There were Illryians patrolling, not only on foot but also in the skies. His soldiers, males that looked up to him.

But she was soft, and warm, and Devlon forgot all about the rules he'd set for himself since the day she stepped onto the training ring.

He swallowed, and the movement brought his thin lips closer to hers. Just one taste of her. One taste of this spoiled little brat, and her witch's spell on him would break.

Devlon's fingers tightened in her braid. Her mouth fell open in a gasp. He swallowed the sound, crushing his lips against hers. Her mouth remained open, wet and inviting and he lost it at the first taste of her tongue.

Sorcha moaned, her body vibrating against his. His other hand grasped the small of her back, dragging her closer still, until every part of her was against him.

Her nails dug into his leathers, clawing her way towards his skin. His heart-

Something did break then.

Not the supposed spell she had on him. But he felt it snap all the same.

Sorcha's eyes snapped open.

Devlon pushed her away, untangling himself from her.

She gasped, her palm against her stomach. And he doubled over, his hands on his knees. His eyes were wild as he looked up at her, his mouth open to snarl accusations at her; what did you do to me, you witch?

But she beat him to it.

Sorcha shook as she whispered, "You're my mate."