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“Something to hurt? To kill? So what? You said you could control the beast.”

“I can control the beast.”

“Then why are you glowing your eyes at me? You’re being strange. I—”

Eryx steps soundlessly toward me, and I back up as far as I can go when I see his canines descend. When I strike the wall, I hold my injured arm away from it so as not to hurt it further. Eryx runs a finger down my neck in the same path where the beast once ran his teeth.

“You’ve never been afraid of what I am. I like that. The beast thrills at that. I see you as something more than an equal, Chrysantha. You’re so much better than me.”

“I already knew that.”

And as though the sarcastic comment is more than he can bear, his eyes lower to my mouth before his lips are upon mine.

CHAPTER 21

The sudden pressure startles me, yet at the same time, I had to know this is where things would lead. For this is always where they lead. It’s what men want from me. I’m a rare beauty. Something men want to claim and make theirs. They always want to take, take, take.

After the initial meeting of our closed lips, he pulls back ever so slightly, so a hair’s breadth rests between us. He drags in a deep lungful of air, breathing me in. Or steadying himself. He holds so still for a solid second, I think he might be wrestling with himself.

Our foreheads touch. He playfully nudges my nose with his. Then his lips descend. Just not to my mouth.

He brushes his lips along my jawline. I hardly know why I’m allowing this. Perhaps a morbid curiosity?

When he stops at my ear, he whispers in a deep growl, “Tell me where you like to be kissed.”

Those words—they do something to me. Something inside me stirs. Something that has been dormant too long. A restless energy crackles beneath my skin, and I throw all sense out the window.

I pull up the long sleeve of my nightdress, exposing the wrist ofmy uninjured arm, and draw a slow circle on the veins just below my hand. “Here.”

With amber eyes on mine, he grabs my arm and brings the limb toward his mouth, watching me as he kisses the skin there. Liking what he finds, he slides my sleeve up and up, exposing the inside of my elbow. His teeth and lips travel upward until he can kiss the pulse point there. His tongue darts out to kiss my flesh, burning me with the quick stroke.

I force my breathing to remain calm, but I’m far too excited now. “Here,” I say, touching with two fingers the base of my neck.

He steps forward, takes my hand from the spot, laces our fingers together, and pins our locked hands to the wall above my head as he leans in. I feel his hot breath first, tickling my sensitive skin. His lips are endlessly patient as they work at my neck. Endlessly obedient when I call out “harder” and “lower.”

He works his way down, down, past my neckline, at my command. Giving, giving, giving.

Aside from where his hand grips mine, where his lips brush me, we are not touching. He doesn’t grab at me, doesn’t paw at me, just gives me exactly what I ask for.

And for once in my life, I cannot stand it.

I pull my hand free from his, and he straightens, thinking perhaps I mean to stop him. Stop this. Instead, I grab his face and bring it to mine so I can be kissed properly. Except, he stands perfectly still under my ministrations. Doesn’t engage. Doesn’t return my kisses.

I hold him at arm’s length so I can look at him. His eyes are so liquid, his fangs peak out from under his lips, and he stares at me with something that can only be described as wonder.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing, I—I’ve just never done this before, and I don’t want to hurt you or for the beast to get out or—”

“Never done what before?”

He looks sheepishly down at my lips.

Kissing. He’s never done kissing before. How is that possible? Those lips of his are perfect for kissing.

“You won’t hurt me,” I say, nearly mad with the wanting of a proper kissing. I don’t just want to be kissed. I want to be devoured. To be made senseless. “Do you feel out of control?”

“Not right now.”