Page 57

He turns on his heel and stalks off, body as tense as a coiled spring, leaving the Magi’s body sprawled across the forest floor. He doesn’t speak as he navigates us back to the castle. Doesn’t even spare me a glance.

It feels like another form of punishment for what I’ve done like he’s the disappointed father of a disobedient child.

Once we’re back in his chambers he sweeps into his bedroom without a word. I stare at the door as it slams shut behind him. There’s another thump like he’s leaned himself against the other side of the door. Now with the adrenaline of the confrontation waning, regret prickles over me.

My eyes burn, emotions swelling in an endless cloud of anger, jealousy, shame at what he caught me doing. My body burns hotter. Has been burning as soon as the henbane went up in the flames, skin blistering with the intensity. Arousal so thick, it drowns out all logical reason.

I could go in there…and apologize? My pride stiffens at the notion. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not his.

But I want him. I want him so much. My heart trills, sweat accumulating across my palms as I consider it.

I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the idea, stooping to all time pathetic levels for a man that doesn’t even want to be seen with me.

I prop my head in my hands, elbows digging into my knees as I drag my hands through my hair. Shivery tingles sprout over my scalp and I shudder, clenching my thighs together in an attempt to sate that aching heartbeat. How long is this going to last? I don’t know how much more I can handle.

I flinch when the door comes barreling open. By the time I lift my head, he’s halfway to the door and moving briskly.

Leaving.

He’s leaving.

Only came back to put his pet back in her cage. He’s probably going to go back and find someone else to satiate his fire. Every single fiber of my being screams at me to stop him, panic stiffening up my lungs. I have to say something . Anything . Make him come back.

At least… try .

He reaches for the knob. “You’re leaving?” I cringe as the words come out in a pitiful, desperate wisp. He goes completely still except for the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, hand still palming the knob. A long moment passes before he starts to turn back.

I shouldn’t have said anything. There are too many emotions competing and fusing together like ingredients that shouldn’t be mixed over a broiling fire. The jealousy, all consuming, souring my stomach. The want from the henbane but also my own, the one that existed before, slicking me for an act I will likely never experience.

Not here.

Not in this life.

Locked in his chambers.

I know as soon as he turns, he’ll see this absolutely devastated look on my face. The desperation and despair as blatant as a bleeding wound. He’ll turn pitying eyes on me. Because he’s not completely heartless. He’s just been dealt the disadvantage of having to suffer me.

His punishment.

Barely able to intake air, I bolt for the bedroom. I’m almost there, almost to safety when his magic binds around my waist, picks me up, and whips me around. A startled yelp spills out of me, cutting off abruptly with the air puffing from my chest as he slaps me back against the wall.

And, then, he’s there.

Fingers splaying my neck and thumbs squeezing my jaw in a silent communication that seems to speak to his frustration.

His disdain .

Any decipherable thought fragments into a thousand tiny shards as his forehead crams me back into the wall. My hands fall limp to his shoulders as he reaches up, swipes away a tear I didn’t know slipped free.

“Don’t,” he snaps, all harsh and gravel. He tilts his head, lips pressing to my jaw and voice slightly muffled, softer, a plea . “Don’t cry.”

I suck in a sharp breath, searching for lucidity only for my body to betray me with a shudder. His lips press against me more firmly, a punishing crush as he growls against my jaw, making my blood thump so fiercely I’m sure he’ll feel it in my pulse.

If I move my head just to the left his lips will be on mine. My heart hammers harder in anticipation but the pressure of his mouth lightens as he traces further down my jaw, over the slope of my neck. My eyelids drift shut, head lolling to the side, flimsy and quavering like a weed under the whims of a powerful breeze. He inhales me. Once. Retreats. “I need to go.”

“No!” My fingers fist into his shirt, and I haul him back to me. He catches himself with his hands braced against the wall on both sides of my head but his body smashes into me, the hardest part of him jabbing into my thigh. He hisses a breath through his teeth and I pant, feet sliding down the wall as I fight the magic levitating me to rub myself further against him. “Stay, Please—just stay.”

He groans an agonized sound that echoes through my blood and strengthens my resolve.

He wants this.

But he’s fighting it.

I can feel him trying to remove himself and I cling to him. “Sitri—“

His eyes are suddenly too much, too piercing. I look down at my fingers still clutching at his shirt.

I am starved.

Starving.

I will beg.

Lay everything down.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I…I only did that because I thought you...and I—I—I don’t want anyone else.” I force a swallow down my parched throat, the last three words coming out in an almost inaudible whisper. “ I want you. ”

Three words that split my ribs wide. Reveal the fleshy heart underneath.

It pounds between us.

Pounds and pounds and pounds .

Sputtering when he makes an angry sound deep in his throat. His hands fist into my hair and my lips part with a silent gasp as he tugs hard, tipping my head back up to meet his gaze. His eyes are hard, unyielding as they flit over my face, and then lowering, half hooded as they settle on my lips. He moves on me yet I remain petrified like prey caught in the grasp of a great beast. Survival instincts finally surface and I move back reflexively, head clanking against the wall.

His nose grazes mine, one gentle nudge, and then our open mouths barely brush in a lip-quavering moment of hesitation—my inexperience cages around me. The culmination of emotions is too much, going up inside of me like the crackling embers of a fire. My head jerks slightly as I suck in a sharp breath.

He steadies me, fingers digging into my cheek as he pries my lips open and douses me in a hit of his liquid warmth.

A soft sound snags in my throat, involuntary and he presses in harder, his lips as demanding and pushy as he is.

He maneuvers us, molding me into submission as he smothers me in the warm, smoky flesh taste of his skin.

Confidence building, I push back against him, vying for control. Surprised when he immediately yields to make room for me, allowing me to take the lead. I kiss him hard and he kisses me sweetly and we’re kissing each other and kissing each other and kissing each other . The simple awareness of it erupts my chest into bursting. We build it up frantically and then slow it to something calmer, more languid, a steady reassurance with his thumbs painting soothing motions against my cheeks.

When his tongue slides over my bottom lip, I burn all the way to my molten middle. I meet him there eagerly, licking at his lips and then his tongue. He cradles my face in his hands delicately, humming out an amused sound when I dip my tongue all the way in to graze it across the bottom of those two crooked teeth.

My hands inch up his neck, claiming his jaw and then the shaved sides of his head I’ve so longed to touch. Appreciating the strong shape of his skull before tangling my fingers in the thick decadent curls.

It’s everything I’ve been longing for if it weren’t for the fact of him keeping our bodies maddeningly just out of reach. I tug at his hair, trying to draw him closer, only succeeding in coaxing out a few deep, rumbling groans that only entice me further yet punctuate his refusal to come any nearer.

He softens the kiss in tender motions, tide growing smaller, tinkling like soft chimes in my chest but does little to sate the yearning fire between my legs. He pulls back, panting warm breaths over my face as he brushes his lips to the tip of my nose, one cheek, the next, and the last to my forehead.

He’s already trying to end this but I’ve just barely begun. I stretch forward, searching. He presses a firm peck to my lips and darts back. My brows crumple and he does it again. When I look up, there’s amusement in his eyes.

Playing.

I huff a breath in frustration and he laughs softly. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I give another pleading tug. He doesn’t even budge.

“Don’t test me, Pandora.” His husky rumble pebbles over my skin as he traces a finger down my forehead, my nose.

“Why?” I whisper.

“Because it’s difficult enough as it is.”

“What is?”

“Hmm.” His fingers trail down to trace over my lips until I’m smothering again. “I think you know.”

“What’s the problem?”

“We should talk about this tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I have this funny feeling that you’re going to argue with me and when it comes to you there’s always a chance I’ll lose the argument and I can’t let that happen.”

I see the light at the end of the tunnel growing dim. Cold. The rejection mangles my insides, twisting me inside out. “Please?” I know how pitiful it is but I can’t seem to help myself. It always feels like he’s right here and somehow just out of reach. I want him so much, I feel fucking crazy with it.

“Pandora,” he sighs.

It’s too pathetic, too desperate. I need a different approach. I trail my hand down his neck, sliding it under his collar to trace my fingers from his shoulder to his sternum, chest lightening when his eyes drift shut with a shaky exhale. I begin cautiously unhooking the buttons of his shirt and his eyes flash open. I peek up, biting my lip in what I hope is an enticing expression.

He squeezes his eyes shut with a hoarse laugh before shaking his head and stilling the descent of my hand with his. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” I mutter obtusely.

“Try to seduce me.”

I look down at my hand, still fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. “No one has to know…”

“You silly, oblivious, wholly frustrating girl—“ He flattens his forehead to mine, staring at me intently. “I am not—“

Trapping his jaw between my hands, I kiss him before he can retreat. “Pan—“ he starts, muffled against my mouth.

I kiss him more fiercely, digging my nails into his neck, trying to communicate how desperately I need this. He’s unmoving against me, eyes still full of troubled reluctance. “Please?” I nip at his lip and he breaks with a growl that sings under my skin. Taking advantage of his moment of weakness, I haul him against me and wrap my legs around his waist, feeling like I’ve won when he slams me back into the wall and kisses me as if he needs it just as much as I do.

I tear at his shirt and wrench it down his shoulders. He seems to have resigned himself to my wishes because he only watches helplessly as I aid him in shrugging it away. Now that I’m here, I falter, a flush working over my cheeks. My movements turn a little slower, a little shyer as I run my hands over the warm, smooth skin of his chest, his shoulders, the firm solidity of his arms.

His next kiss is tender as his hands begin slowly melding down my body. He breaks free to look down as his hands appreciatively carve over my hips and trace up my legs wrapping his waist. They inch under the hem of my dress, lingering over the bare skin of my thighs, and come to a still—hesitating, deliberating.

Please.

I thrust forward, coaxing him on, lifting my arms obediently as he tugs my dress up over my head. He slams my wrists back against the wall before I can lower them and laces our fingers together above my head. The heat of his body converges with the heat of mine and I want to cry in mouth-watering relief. I press myself to him completely, my stomach to his stomach, my chest to his chest, soaking up all of the glorious warmth of his skin. He kisses me harder and harder in an endless rolling tide that takes me deeper and deeper and deeper .

His lips find my neck, kissing and nipping and licking at me as he works his way down. When his fingers curl under the fabric binding my breasts I arch my back in a silent request.

More .

He rips the fabric down to expose me and straightens. Because, of course, it’s not enough to touch. He wants to look, like he’s intent on seeing what no one else did tonight, hidden under the thick curtain of hair.

I’d momentarily forgotten about the dāemon’s blight in the heat of the moment and I falter, self consciousness prickling as a flush creeps over my skin.

Small breasts that likely won’t fill his hands, one patterned with the large, ugly, splotchy mark cutting all the way to the peak. Not even close to the lush curves of the woman he’d disappeared with earlier. Will he like me…will he be disappointed…

Trembling, I fight the urge to hide, to curl around myself. Maybe he senses the vulnerability he’s uncovered because he moves slower, head bowing and cheek caressing the side of mine as he drags a single knuckle down the center of my chest.

He pauses at the blight and then changes direction, making a circle—outlining it. I let out a shaky exhale and he turns his head to nuzzle his nose over my temple. He traces the pattern, leaving a trail of fire in his wake, until he meets the swell of my breast before he stops and continues his descent back down. His other hand grazes up from its perch against my hip. I fight the urge to squirm as he cradles the bottom creases of my breasts between his forefingers and his thumbs.

I want him to touch me.

God, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want him to touch me.

I arch my back, driving myself further into his hands, hating myself for how much I need it. This seems to draw him from his lazy stupor. He inhales sharply, driving me back into the wall as his hands come up to give me what I want.

He holds me gently as if I’m something…fragile—precious. Cradles me in his palms. I cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep hold of any…intelligent thought. His thumbs swirl, slow, maddening circles over the painfully pointed tips, and my control shatters with a strangled cry that calls his attention back to my mouth. His head shifts, looking like a man drugged as he stares at my lips. He presses his mouth over mine, and that fire in me swelters as he kisses me softly, his tongue sweeping across my lip and into my mouth in cadenced motions.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

I rock, that tender swollen bud between my legs sliding against the soaked strip of fabric separating us, desperate for friction. I wriggle against the magic levitating me. I’m wrapped around him but not where I want to be, too high up his waist. I shimmy down, searching for purchase—gasping when I find it. He’s rigid, digging into me exactly where, exactly how I need him to.

“Fuck,” he groans.

He’s the perfect size, length solidity. The perfect post for me to clamp my thighs around and grind myself up and down. Like this is exactly where he belongs.

Like this is what it was made for.

I’m already dancing too close to the edge but unable to stop myself from ratcheting myself closer and closer to that inevitable conclusion.

The harder I try to hold onto my restraint, the more vigorously he tortures me, switching back and forth between kneading my breasts and plucking me out between his fingers to soft tantalizing caresses. I give in, letting my moans spill free.

More, give me more, give me everything.

He responds vigorously, shoving me back as he props an elbow against the wall and grinds into me. Strong, confident, practiced aggressive motions. His abdominal muscles flex with each drive of his hips. I move with him. His hand wraps around my jaw, forcing me to meet his dilated, hungry and wild eyes. “ Pet .”

He spears me into the wall. Once. Twice. Every muscle in my body is pulled tight, past the breaking point.

“Sitri, I—“

He stiffens, but I’m too far gone, movements autonomous as I drive that tender bundle of nerves over the hard ridge of his cock, that single point of tension that holds the whole thing in place. I explode with a final cry, body jerking with violent wracking heaves of pleasure. I’m vaguely aware of him pushing back at my hips in a futile attempt to pry me off of him but my legs are locked like vises around his hips. His head dips, teeth closing around my neck with a strangled groan. I’m pretty sure I’ve pulled him right over the edge with me when his hips suddenly jerk reflexively, cock pulsing between my thighs, coaxing several more shudders out of me.

I hold him more tightly through his pleasure, my body still twitching with the after shocks of my own. He collapses against me, both of us breathing raggedly. My body goes limp, magic suspending me against the wall. My mind’s suspended too, drifting lazily. Finally sated and enveloped in a peaceful, lusty haze. I stroke a hand over his back, nuzzling further into his neck. Press my lips there.

I never want to come down.

Finally. Nothing has ever—could ever feel more right than this.

Minutes pass before his cock emits another pulse between my thighs. I respond with a throb of my own, the henbane already gearing me up for more . I trail my hands down the grooves of his abdomen. Lower. Press my hand over the tip of his cock, unsurprised to find his pants there damp. There’s no question in my mind.

I unhook the top button of his pants and then the next one. His body tenses a second before his hand comes down to shove mine back. He heaves a swear, spiking a bolt of anxiety through my lusty fog. I lift my head, peering at him through half hooded eyes, but he refuses to meet my gaze, head bowed as he peels me off of him and settles me on the floor.

My legs wobble and I totter dangerously, lifting a hand to brace myself against the wall. He rushes to do up the buttons of his pants before swiping his shirt off the floor and I see it, regret flashing in his eyes, in the rare red of his cheeks.

My stomach sinks so quickly. The peace I was experiencing only seconds ago feels like an illusion. His eyes dart over me and away with the air of a child who’s done something they shouldn’t have. Like he’s just broken his mother’s favorite vase and he’s bracing himself for the consequences. He opens his mouth as if to speak but he says nothing as he taps awkwardly at my shoulder a few times. As if it will magically take this moment away, make that it never happened.

But he can’t. He pulls his hand back, closing it into a fist to keep it from betraying him further as he heaves another swear. My brows crease. “What’s wrong?”

I step forward, wrap a hand around his arm. “No!” he snaps, ripping himself from my hand. “Fuck, pet! No.”

It feels like a piercing strike to the chest. My face crumples. “Wait—“ He forms a symbol I’m all too familiar with. Locks my feet to the floor.

I cover myself with my arms like a shrunken, shriveled plant.

“Gods fucking dammit.” He tears a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, we can’t. We can’t do this.”

I’m too stunned to say anything as he bolts for the door. It slams shut behind him with a deafening clank. The dāemon strikes inside of me, face burning red hot. The magic lets off and I sink down on the floor, pulling my legs up to my chest and burying my head in my knees. I bite at the back of my hand to muffle the sob that tears up my throat.

I want to be anyone, anything other than this.