Page 31

I reach for the salt, and he reaches for it too in the same moment, his calloused fingers brushing against mine. Despite the clenching in my stomach, I look at his hand like he might transfer a disease.

He withdraws immediately, fists clenching. "That's enough spice."

"Trying to manipulate my diet, too? Get a life, Soren," I say under my breath, scattering more salt and pepper into the broth, just to spite him.

His growl is nearly imperceptible. I might not have heard it if I wasn't so attuned to him. "For how long will you continue to openly disrespect and defy me? You act like a petulant child."

My spoon scrapes against the silverware a little too loud and I raise my eyes to his.

"Why? You cannot stand seeing that one single thing doesn't bend to your will?

I suggest you get used to it. This is all the me you'll be receiving from now on.

And if you grow tired, you can always throw me out and annul our marriage.

" I manage a shrug. "Trust me. I wouldn't give two fucks. "

While he glares at me like he wants to snap my neck, I slurp the broth and hide my cringe. It's too salty.

"I consider it everyday." His words are in my head this time, voice low and sharp, striking like a slap against my face. "But unfortunately, it'd be a bad look, having my Luna begging on the streets like a stray."

The world blanks out and the wind roars in my ears, carrying his angry, wicked words. And maybe it is my hormones, maybe it is shoving down my emotions for weeks now, but my outlet comes with one single movement.

I have no control over my hand as it wraps around the butter knife and aims for Soren's head with shocking speed.

Gasps scatter around the table. For a slow moment, I think he might not move out of the way fast enough and my heart lurches, fear unlike anything I have felt numbing me to the spot.

At the very last second, Soren moves, but not before the knife grazes his left cheek, drawing blood. It sinks into the cushion beside his head deeply, going all the way to its hilt.

You could hear a pin drop. Even the soft music coming from the mezzanine has come to a halt. Soren's eyes are feverishly bright as he brings a hand to his cheek, tracing the line as though it is something precious.

His eyes bore into mine and his next words are a softly spoken whisper. "You're all excused."

Furniture scrapes. Feet shuffle. Rayne leans forward. "You should get that looked at?—"

"You're dismissed," Soren murmurs without looking away from me.

She is wise enough not to argue against the order. I try to make my legs work, but they fail me, feeling like wood encased in lead. I shiver and tremble under the weight of his stare, and when the double doors close heavily, the only sound left in the hall is that of our breathing.

"You could've killed me." Soren drops his hand from his cheek and I see that the skin is already healed. "Did you want to?"

I swallow thickly, several warning bells going off in my mind. His eyes are glowing, gold capturing the dark green until only a thin band remains. "I don't know."

It's not a lie. If I could describe the emotions I felt in that one moment, I would call it a murderous rage.

Soren's lips curve, wide, and he plucks the knife out of the cushion, only to hand it back to me. "Do it again." He scrapes a free hand along his jaw. "It'll make you feel better."

I don't take it. I don't understand the odd light in his eyes. I've never seen him like this before. It's scaring the fuck out of me.

Again, I feel him slip within the walls of my mind, even if my mental shields are up, even if I fight against him. It's almost too easy. " You hate me. The thought of killing me is the only thing that calms your rage. You should take the knife. Do it. I won't stop you. "

He's pulling an aura on me, but it isn't forceful. It feels like an artful seduction with his words, slow, beautiful. Before I can stop myself, I stand, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the knife.

Soren leans back against the chair large enough to be a throne, and his words wrap around my mind, making me walk until I find myself standing between his legs.

My right knee presses against the cushion between his knees, my hand rising to make the cut. Tears sting my eyes, fear clogs my throat, anger envelopes my mind, an intoxicating mix with his words. "Do it, Sera." He loosens the top button of his black shirt. And another. Exposing pale, smooth skin.

His hand wraps around my other hand, bringing the knife down forcefully, aiming for his heart.

"Stop!" I scream at him, managing to fight off his hold on my mind for long enough to stop the knife from piercing his skin any further. Blood pools, rolling down his skin, soaking into his shirt.

My fingers shake and the knife clatters to the ground. "Have you lost your mind?!"

Soren's chest shakes and it is with no small amount of horror that I realize he is laughing at me. Tears roll down my face, blurring everything in sight and the hand I raise to punch the sick grin off his face is caught in a large wrist. "You lost your chance, Sera."

He yanks me down by my waist and presses his lips to mine.

I do not have the words to explain the next few seconds. It takes one stroke of his tongue to send everything to hell. I'm in his lap, hands thrusting into his hair. His hands snake up my spine, holding me in place as our tongues lash in a fierce battle we will both lose.

It doesn't make sense. My body hums with energy, wave after wave of electricity coursing through my veins. I push his jacket back. His hands tear off my robe roughly. He breathes roughly against my mouth, pushing my chemise up my thighs until hot hands are planted against my ass.

I move, rolling against his center and he groans, nails digging into my ass as he helps me repeat the motion. "Fuck," he swears against my mouth. I feel the depth of his voice against my skin, tightening my nipples and making my breasts heavier.

His jacket lands near my outer robe and I fumble for the buttons of his shirt without breaking the kiss. He tastes like rich wine and fresh mint. He tastes like winter and blood. He tastes like mine. Buttons fly here and there and I moan against his mouth when my hands find his bare torso.

His skin burns like an inferno and I find myself greedy. My hands run over his scarred chest and torso and it's not enough. The need to meld into him, breathe the same air, live inside his skin makes me whimper. My panties cling, soaked against my pussy and I grind myself against him harder.

"Tell me you hate me," he rasps, fingers pushing my chemise past my waist. A little higher, I almost plead. Please.

"Go to hell," I snap, but every thought in my head eddies out when he slips a hand between my thighs and presses a thumb against my panties.

I clench so hard, I see stars. Embarrassment heats my cheeks but Soren hardly notices, his eyes burning into mine as he pushes my panties aside and strokes against me with two rough fingers.

The contact is too much, too fast and I try to get away from him. One hand tightens on my rib, holding me in place. "Have you been cleared?"

He means by the doctor. If my injuries from childbirth have healed enough for any kind of penetration. My heart does a little twirl at the thought that he cares enough to ask first, but then I remember just who I am currently dry humping. "Last week."

"Thank fuck," he whispers and without warning, his fingers spear me.