Page 22 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

SOUNDTRACK: Going to Hell by Bryce Savage

~ MELEK ~

I felt her eyes on me and discovered that I was not the slave to self-discipline I had always striven to be.

Had I ever scrubbed my arms three times before?

No.

Had I ever worked harder to reach the center of my back, or been more assiduous about cleaning my chest?

Never.

But then, I couldn’t remember ever feeling eyes on my skin that blazed like the sun. The heat of her gaze warming me so that I began to sweat.

Which of course meant I would need to wash again.

Then her breathing grew shallow and my body began to tighten.

I grit my teeth against the rush, but could not stop it.

My dreams had been invaded by her ever since that night—the night she’d fought for Gall. The night I’d had her naked and vulnerable. The night I’d touched her warm, soft skin, and stood over her in the dark…

Every night since then she had invaded my dreams. Against my will, my sleeping mind conjured visions of her joining me in my bed. Uninjured. Not coerced. And definitely not an enemy…

On the nights I didn’t wake tight and throbbing, instead I gasped awake in a cold sweat from nightmares of her being taken by those fuckers, or being unable to reach the two of them in time and Gall dying in the fight for her.

I was exhausted from fighting myself.

But as I bathed here in my own tent, under her eyes, I stopped fighting what I knew to be true: Something in me had shifted—weakened! And no matter how I tried, I could not move it back.

For a week I had stayed away from her. Refused to acknowledge her. Refusing to indulge myself in the slightest.

But tonight, I had finally lost the struggle with Gault about our battle choices, and I found myself even weaker.

Weak to temptation.

Weak to indulgence.

Weak to her.

Even in bringing the bath I’d known I was testing her. Teasing. Gauging whether she was as tormented by me as I was by her.

I thought the answer was… not quite.

But not, not at all.

When I heard her breathing grow quicker—shallower, I got so hard it ached. I had to swallow against the urge to simply stand up, stride over to that fucking cage and pull her out of it, strip her naked and plunge into her.

God, she’d hate me forever.

And so… I bathed. And prayed for mercy. And self control. And—

The cage, the tent, everything practical disappeared. I turned to find her standing several strides away in nothing but my sleep shirt, her bare legs hinting that she wore nothing but that long cotton.

Her head was tilted and her lips pulled up on one side as she reached for the buttons.

The shirt was so large on her that the first button nestled right at the center of her chest, between her breasts. Her smile got wider as her small fingers slid it free and the two sides of the shirt fell apart revealing a scant inch of that pale, unblemished skin and the barest crescent of the soft rounds of her breasts.

Then her hands drifted down to the next one.

And the next.

And then the last. The shift fell open—baring all of her, except her breasts—but she only reached up to the collar and pulled it wide, sliding it back, off her shoulders until all that cotton dropped, fluttering as it rippled over her ass then fell to the dirt behind her.

My nostrils flared as she started towards me slowly but steadily, her eyes never dropping mine until she reached the side of the bath, then scanned my body.

I felt that look like fingernails clawed along my jaw, down my neck, over my pecs, and then lower… and lower.

And her breath got faster again.

“Not a lot of room left for me,” she whispered as she leaned down to take hold of the edge of the tub.

It was large for her. She was forced to lift one leg carefully, then the other to step in, placing her tiny feet to the sides of my thighs. And just as her second foot reached the bottom, she wobbled and clapped a hand to my shoulder to help herself balance.

Except I caught her arm and we both froze. Not breathing.

There was a single, silent moment that we stared. Then I threw my scruples aside like unwanted rubbish and pulled her down into my lap to straddle my thighs.

Not nearly close enough.

I growled and grabbed for her ass with both hands, pulling her forward against my straining cock so that we were brought together. When she tilted her hips as she found her balance, she slid against me.

She bit her lip and I groaned.

Our eyes never strayed, even when she reached for the soap and cloth, even when she wet them both and made the cloth soapy… and especially when she began to wash me. Starting at my neck, her small hand fit high under my throat as her thumb drew the cloth along the line of my jaw.

Her eyes never left mine, but they glazed over and her lower lip went slack as I pulled her hard against me again and this time indulged in my own hip roll, pressing my length against her.

I hadn’t even tried to control myself. My breathing was harsh and heavy, hot in contrast with the cool air of the tent.

Then she looked down to see me there, between her legs, thick and full and wanting, and her eyes got wider.

I growled, sliding a hand to her jaw, my fingers curling around the back of her neck while I traced her cheek with my thumb.

And just as I was about to pull her closer, to take that soft pink mouth, and the rest of her too, she shook her head slightly—but started using both hands to bathe me. Soaping them to so they were slick, she ran them all over my chest, then down… over my abs. Then she ran her tiny fingers along the paths between my muscles that were even more defined now, because I wanted her so badly my stomach clenched as hard as my teeth.

And then, just as my pulse began to vibrate in my skin, she bit her lip, soaped her hands again, and reached for me.

The position meant her upper arms pressed her breasts together and towards me and I almost came at the sight of her soapy, slick, little hands, cupping around me, sliding up and down, and her breath short and quick fluttering against my wet skin and her breasts right there.

I groaned and dropped my head back against the bath, gritting teeth against the immediate need for release. But she didn’t stop.

Her eyes were wide and her hips rolled—I suspected she didn’t even realize she was seeking her own pleasure against me. But she didn’t stop, up and down, slowly at first, softly, teasing my flesh until I hummed with need.

I didn’t lift my head but dropped my eyes, watching the way I pressed up between her legs—and then her hands.

I imagined tipping her forward and thrusting between her beautiful breasts.

Then I imagined grasping her hips, lifting her, and pulling her down onto me, impaling her with a roar.

But I did nothing—one hand on her, the other gripping the side of the bath as my body tensed and shivered, and my orgasm beckoned. I closed my eyes again, trying to fight it off. But then my legs began to shake, and her breath became a pant. And when I couldn’t resist and looked at her again, it was to find her watching herself touch me, her nipples hard points and lower lip slack.

My orgasm detonated at the base of my spine, and I did roar then. Grabbing for her hands, keeping them tight on me as my breath froze and I pumped twice, three times… then I shuddered and slumped, releasing her hands as my head clunked back against the rim of the bathtub.

But she moved with me, leaning forward over my body, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers lacing behind my neck, holding herself close to me as my body twitched and jerked in the throes of that orgasm.

“Yilan—”

Her nose almost brushed mine, her eyes locked in, shining as she smiled.

“Thank you. For saving me. That was… thank you.”

I blinked and everything practical reappeared—the tent was back, my bed, my clothing trunk, the cage… and Yilan—still fully clothed, sitting on her cot and staring.

And to my horror, I found the hands on me were… mine.

What the—?!

Grabbing for the soap and cloth, trying desperately to swallow back my panting breath, I blinked again and again.

It had been so real. So visual. How—

Then I froze.

The Fetch.

It was said they could speak to each other in their minds. Said that they could turn eyes away without their owners knowing their minds had been changed.

But I had assumed that was only rumor. Similar to some of the more ridiculous stories that haunted the Nephilim.

I snapped my head around to look at her, uncertain whether I was angry or afraid.

Her eyes were wide… and her cheeks were red.

I swallowed hard. “Did you… was that—?”

“Thank you. For saving me,” she breathed. “That was… thank you.”

Then, as I sat there stunned, she laid down on the cot, pulled the blanket over her bad shoulder and rolled herself up in it with her back to me.

I gaped for a moment, confused and turned on and…

And suddenly fucking furious.