Page 161 of I Dream of Dragons

“I want you to feel safe. And in control. I want all of this, every part of it, to be your decision. Your wish.”

Warmth fills me. “And how?” I can’t help a small flinch when he lifts his hand and strokes my neck.

His dark brows bunch together. “Rae. Are you scared of me?”

“I don’t… With Phaethon, I liked it and yet?—”

“I told you, I’m not him.”

“Aren’t you?” I ask, more bitterly than I thought I would, because that’s another thorn in my mind, another question I need answered, another dilemma, because I like Phaethon and hate him, too.

“Fuck. You… Do what you want with me.” He spreads his hands, sitting back on his heels and bowing his head, black hairspilling on his forehead. “Punish me, if you will, though if you walk out now, that would be the cruelest punishment.”

“Jai—”

“Slap me. Punch me. Toy with me.” He peers at me from under his long, dark lashes. “I want you to. Hurt me like I’ve hurt you.”

“You haven’t.”

A small shake of his head showing me he disagrees. “Doubt is hurting you, and you shouldn’t have to doubt. I’m not a good person, Rae. I haven’t been good since I lost you, and maybe I wasn’t good before that, either, and… and I don’t want you to feel pressured. I want you to do what pleases you. To take what you need.”

I can’t deny that there’s a measure of excitement in doing as he says. In having him still and vulnerable as I touch him. Having him at my mercy. Finally letting out some of that sorrow I’ve carried around for a century, letting him feel its sharp edge.

After all, I enjoyed Phaethon taking me as he did, that rough coupling, that near violence, the edge of fear accompanying the pleasure.

But this is Jai. Jai is different from Phaethon, and I love him. Gods, I love him so much…

This is breaking me apart.

“Rae?” He’s watching me, his eyes asking more questions. “Let go. Take that pain and give it to me.”

He can read my mind sometimes. Or else he can read my face. This isn’t only about me, though. He blames himself for being who he is, for what he has become since the king took him away and got him addicted to his bite. No matter who he was before, he was still a boy when the king manipulated him to do his dirty work.

He’s my Mars, the first and only man I’ve loved. I don’t want to hurt him—but pleasure him? I want that, and I want to see how else I can make him lose control.

My body hums with arousal as I gather my legs under me and kneel on the sofa, mirroring his posture.

“Undress,” I whisper. “Undress for me.”

He watches me still, not moving, and my gaze is caught on the uneven rise and fall of his broad chest, the dark fabric covering him almost up to his chin, then by the bulge between his muscular thighs, the shape of his hard cock evident.

I lift my hand to touch his long lashes, his cheekbones. “These black marks on your cheeks…”

“The shadows have sunk deep into me,” he says softly. “Bled into my skin, my neck, my chest, my arms… People think it’s exotic ink but it’s darkness. The inside made manifest.” He looks away. “How do you think I know you died? I felt it. Felt the bond crack. You don’t lose half of yourself and not know it.”

“Jai…”

“That’s how the king became so obsessed with bringing back the dead.”

“What do you mean?”

“His mother was killed by the finnfolk. He doesn’t want to understand that if she comes back, she won’t be the same person she used to be.”

Not the same person.So what does that make me?

I swallow hard, place a hand on his chest, over his heart, the chiseled lines of his muscles pressing like rock against my palm. “Maybe I should help you get started,” I whisper, and my voice sounds cracked. Broken. “With the buttons.”

I start unbuttoning his shirt, starting from its high collar, my breath catching as I part the stiff fabric to reveal a triangle of pale skin. I hurry to undo more buttons, parting his shirt completely, unveiling his sculpted chest and the black marks onhis pecs that even cross over his small brown nipples, the hard stomach that contracts, throwing those delicious muscles into stark relief, when I trail my hand there. The eye-shaped mark I’d noticed before seems darker now.