Page 14 of Alien Devil’s Wrath (Vinduthi Stolen Brides #2)
T he chamber was a tight fit, the proximity forced my thigh to press against his and making me hyperaware of the heat radiating from his body. I could count every breath he took, feel every slight shift of his powerful body against mine.
This close, I could see details I’d missed before. The way his iron-grey traceries followed the natural lines of his musculature, creating patterns that were uniquely his. The small scar just below his left horn. The way his pupils were dilated despite the dim light.
“You’re aroused,” he said, his voice rough, his own need evident.
“Of course I am.” I moved closer, drawn by everything about him. The heat, the scent, the barely contained power. “Watching you work was better than any entertainment I’ve had in years. Possibly ever.”
His pupils dilated further at my words, and I watched those intricate traceries remain completely still against his skin. They were just markings, beautiful but static. I could sense his desire now, a warm rush uniquely him that made my core clench with want.
“You enjoyed watching me kill them.”
“I enjoyed watching you be exactly what you are instead of trying to hide it.” My other hand came up to trace the traceries on his chest, tracing their intricate patterns. “You’re stunning when you embrace the monster instead of fighting it.”
He caught my wrists, his grip gentle but firm. The size difference was striking. His hands could span my ribcage, could probably snap my bones without effort, but his touch remained careful. Controlled.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, but I could hear the want in his voice.
“Don’t I?” I looked up at him, letting him see everything I was feeling. The hunger, the anticipation, the complete lack of fear. “I want the predator. I want the killer who just dismantled eight trained soldiers like they were children playing at war.”
His control cracked visibly. I watched it happen, saw the exact moment his civilized facade crumbled and raw instinct took over.
He released my wrists only to cup my face in his large hands, his mouth crashing down on mine with desperate hunger. The kiss was everything I’d been hoping for. Raw and claiming and edged with barely restrained violence that made my blood sing.
When his fangs scraped against my lower lip, I gasped at the sharp sensation and the immediate flood of warmth that followed. His saliva was already affecting me, euphoric agents making every nerve ending more sensitive, more alive.
“Is this what you want?” he demanded against my mouth, his voice rough with need. “You want the beast?”
“I want you to stop pretending you’re anything else,” I said, then bit his lower lip just hard enough to make him growl.
That shattered what remained of his restraint.
His hands were everywhere. Tangled in my hair, spanning my ribs, working at my clothes with urgent need. When he found the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, his eyes went dark with want.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over my nipples through the thin fabric covering them.
The reverent hunger in his voice sent liquid heat straight through me. I arched against him, seeking more contact, more friction, more of everything he was offering. Every touch felt magnified, more intense than anything I’d experienced.
He seemed to understand exactly what I needed. One hand worked between us, unfastening my pants and sliding beneath the fabric to find me already slick and ready.
“So wet,” he growled against my throat, his fangs grazing the sensitive skin. “All this for me?”
“Only you,” I gasped as his fingers found my clit, circling with exactly the right pressure. “Always you.”
The skill with which he touched me was devastating. Every stroke was calculated to drive me higher, and the lingering effects of his saliva made every sensation twice as intense. I could feel myself coming apart under his touch, becoming desperate and needy.
But it wasn’t just physical. A warmth was expanding in my chest, unfamiliar but not unwelcome, that had nothing to do with euphoric agents and everything to do with the way he was looking at me. Like I was precious. Like I was everything he’d been searching for.
“The way you touch me,” I managed between gasps, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “Like you’ve been studying me, learning exactly what I need.”
He paused, pulling back to look at me with surprise and desire. “You’re still trying to analyze this?”
“Can’t help it. But it’s not clinical anymore. It’s just... you make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel.”
The admission surprised me as much as it seemed to surprise him. I wasn’t supposed to be vulnerable, wasn’t supposed to need anyone. But the way he was touching me, looking at me, made me want to give him everything.
He stared at me for a moment, then his expression softened in a way I’d never seen before.
“You’re incredible,” he said, and there was wonder in his voice.
When he finally pushed two thick fingers inside me, I cried out at the overwhelming sensation.
The combination of his skilled touch and the lingering sensitivity made every nerve ending sing, but more than that, I could feel his satisfaction at my response, could see how much my pleasure meant to him.
“That’s it,” he said roughly as I moved against his hand. “Let me hear you. Let me see you fall apart for me.”
I was beyond shame, beyond restraint. The euphoric effects in my system combined with his relentless touch and the emotional intimacy building between us pushed me toward shattering completely.
But I wasn’t afraid. I trusted him to catch me, to hold me together when I broke.
When his thumb pressed against my clit while his fingers curled inside me, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids, I did exactly what he’d asked for. I fell apart completely.
The orgasm tore through me with devastating intensity, my body convulsing around his fingers as I screamed his name. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, each one more intense than the last, until I was shaking and breathless and completely undone.
He held me through it, his mouth on my throat, his hands keeping me anchored as I flew apart and slowly came back together. When I finally opened my eyes, he was watching me with awe in his red gaze.
“Mine,” he said, and the possessive claim in his voice made me clench around his fingers again.
“Yes,” I breathed, meaning it with every part of my being. “Yours.”
But even as the words left my mouth, another tremor shook the chamber. Stronger this time, accompanied by the sound of shifting stone somewhere in the distance.
“The creature is getting more active,” I said, reading the vibration patterns I’d learned to interpret over years of cohabitation. “We need to stay put until it settles down again.”
He pulled me closer, settling us both more comfortably in the confined space. But the tension between us hadn’t dissipated. If anything, it had grown stronger, more urgent, flavored now with the intimacy we’d just shared.
“How long?” he asked.
“Maybe another hour before it’s safe to move,” I said, already considering our options. “We should find a more stable place to set up a proper camp when the creature settles. Somewhere even deeper in the bedrock formations.”
The unfinished business between us filled the small chamber like a living thing. I could see the hunger still burning in his eyes, feel the way his body remained coiled with need despite what we’d just shared.
When he kissed me again, it was with desperate urgency. The cramped space left no room for finesse, only raw, urgent need.
His hands worked frantically to free us both from the remaining barriers of fabric. I helped, equally desperate, until we were skin to skin in the dim phosphorescent light filtering through cracks in the stone.
The feel of his body against mine was intoxicating. All that grey skin over hard muscle, the traceries standing out like artwork across his chest and arms, the evidence of his arousal pressed hot and hard against my thigh.
But when he positioned himself at my entrance, we both went still. The pressure of him at my entrance was a promise of being stretched, filled, and completely claimed. I could feel the soft flanges along his shaft that would create sensations no human male could possibly provide.
“Bronwen,” he said, my name rough with need and reverence.