Page 47 of Veiled Flames (Destiny of Dragons #1)

I’m not sure what he means by fucking my mouth, but perhaps he means thrusting his tongue inside it. Something Saxon has already done, and I quite enjoyed.

As Tynan pulls on my hair, tears well in my eyes, and I fight to regain my ability to speak, to even breathe.

My scalp is aching, along with the rest of me, but all the pain is contradicted by the throbbing heat in my cleft.

I don’t understand my body. My body wants him, but I won’t allow it, not until I secure his pledge.

Tynan must promise to keep my secret. Without that deal, he’ll have to take me by force.

Holy thrix! Even that horrid idea amplified my throbbing. Tynan—the threat of him—holds a very strange power over me.

Loosening his hold on my hair, he backs me up against his wardrobe and uses his superior height to sneer down at my face.

“You don’t think I’m as cruel as my kin.

” His eyes narrow. “You’re wrong. Very wrong.

My father and grandfather taught me well.

They taught me how to tame women, how to break them.

How to ruin them. And you’re going to regret that you came here tonight.

” He grinds his hips against me, pressing my backside against the carved wooden wardrobe.

The pressure of his hardness between my legs makes me pant, even through the leather of our breeches.

“I can’t decide which of your holes to drill first.” He sneers down at me.

“One way or the other, I’m going to fuck all of them—fuck each one hard and deep.

I’ll fuck you so hard and for so long you’ll lose your ability to beg me to stop.

And, believe me, princess, I can go ten times longer and harder than that old dragon master who defiled you. ”

His hand drops, and he squeezes my cleft with so much pressure I’m sure that I’ll bruise. But it yet again increases my throbbing.

“At this moment, you are being cruel,” I spit out. “I hate you.”

“And yet—” he grins. “And yet you want me.” His finger flicks over my sex.

I turn my face away as pleasure flutters through me. “You are mistaken.”

“Liar.” He chuckles as his fingers flick again. “Your cheeks are flushed. Your breaths are shallow, and your heart is racing.” He presses his fingers against the leather directly over my opening, pressing the seam against it. “And I can feel how much you want me.”

“The reactions you see and feel are borne of hatred , sir. From disgust.”

“Look at me!” he shouts. His grin has twisted, and I shiver. “You’re lying,” he growls. “Your eyes are brimming with lust. And your cunt is hot and damp.” His fingers scratch me down there as if proving his point.

“I hate you. Unhand me now.” I may have misjudged this. I may have misjudged him. I’ve made a terrible mistake. “I was wrong before,” I say on a shuddering breath. “You are cruel. You are a terrible person. Not half the man that Saxon is.”

His expression falters. “Have you promised yourself to Saxon? Are you the master’s property?”

“I’m no man’s property, and Saxon will never touch me again. I won’t allow it.”

Tynan’s eyes widen and his expression transforms as he grins. I want to slap the satisfied look off his face, and yet I also want to devour it with my lips. This man is beyond confusing, and my feelings toward him even more so.

“Admit it, princess.” He grins. “You didn’t come to my room to make a deal. You came here to fuck me. You came because you want me.”

“I hate you.”

“Hate does not cancel want.” Tynan licks my face, and everything inside me pulses. “In fact, hate and rage can fuel lust. In fact, hate-fueled fucks are oft explosive.”

I keep my gaze averted, as his face moves even closer toward mine. So close his lemony scent overpowers me. My legs are shaking, and the heat between them is beyond denial. His fingers continue their infernal pulsing, rubbing me through the leather, and I fight to strangle a moan.

He releases his hold on my sex.

I gasp at the absence of pressure, and my hips involuntarily shift, as if seeking his hard ridge.

He backs away. “Did you think me so easy to seduce, Princess?” He cups his hardness again. “Every wench at camp wants this.”

“So you claim.” Me, seducing him? “But…” My mind is spinning. I’ve forgotten my purpose here. “You said you wanted…” I stop myself. Why would I remind him of his threats.

He chuckles. “Perhaps I will grant you a royal drilling—someday. But I think I’ll wait until you beg me for it.”

“Then, you’ll wait for eternity.” I raise my chin.

Although… wasn’t that precisely my plan when I came in here? To plead. To trade my body for his silence? My mind is spinning, confused by lust and hatred, and by Tynan’s infernal arrogance. “I don’t want you and would certainly never beg.”

“Liar.” A smirk soils his face. “And if you don’t want a good fucking, then get out.” He points toward the door. “I have a big day tomorrow and need my rest.”

I glare at him. “I won’t ever beg you. Not for anything. I might let you drill me—but only if you promise to keep my secret.”

In three bounding strides, Tynan lands in front of me. Strapping his arms around my body and trapping mine, he bends me back toward the floor, holding me suspended, unbalanced. I fight to recover from the shock as he stares into my eyes, mocking me, demonstrating how easily he can overpower me.

Lightning strikes emanate from his penetrating green eyes, and they ignite sparks to join the multiple fires already burning inside me.

I hate this man, yet I could live in his eyes.

As he holds me immobile, his expression changes. The greens swirl into something less mocking, less malicious. At times, Tynan’s eyes expose so much of him, and yet I feel certain I could stare into them for a lifetime without discovering every secret buried deep there.

“You confound me.” Tynan lifts me onto my feet, but traps both my wrists behind my back with one large hand. “So many things about you defy explanation.”

“Like what?” I wish my voice and my rapid breaths weren’t exposing my fear and desire.

He rakes back his indigo curls, with the hand not trapping mine. “To begin, who helped you escape from your wedding?”

“No one helped me.”

His eyes flash with something that looks like admiration.

“And why would you dare refuse a marriage arranged by your father—by a king, no less? Why would you take such a risk?”

“The day you arrived,” I tell him. “I saw your royal cortege by the bridge. I saw what your grandfather did to that servant girl, and I heard what your father commanded his footman to do.”

“I stopped that nasty business,” Tynan says quickly. Shame washes over his face, but then he closes his eyes, as if his words revealed more than he planned.

“That was you ?” I ask. “You were the one on the horse, who said there was not enough time to drill the wench.”

Eyes still closed, he nods, and warmth spreads inside me. I knew Tynan wasn’t cruel. Or, not as cruel as his elders.

His eyes open, and his expression steals my breath. It looks suspiciously admiring, almost respectful, even as he continues to trap my wrists, crushing the bones painfully together.

“So,” he says, “first, you escape a well-guarded castle on the eve of your wedding. Then you manage to disguise yourself as a boy and find the dragon trials. And then, you have the courage to not only approach a dragon, but to help others do so.” He runs his hand through his dark curly hair.

“And on top of all that, for several days—and in very close quarters—you not only maintained your disguise as a boy, you saved my horse, and then you bested me in the gauntlet.” He shakes his head. “I’ve held that record since my third attempt.”

“I’m sure you could have run it more quickly,” I say earnestly, “had you known your record was at risk.”

Tynan subtly shakes his head. So subtly I’m not completely sure I saw the motion.

“Princess Rosomon.” His voice is gentler now. “You are like no girl I’ve ever met. And certainly like no man.” His admiration is clear now. He’s still holding my wrists, but it no longer feels like a threat.

Pride spreads inside me. I want to say the same back to him, but the truth is I have met men with Tynan’s style of arrogance before—many of them—even if Tynan has revealed layers beneath his over-confident facade.

He releases my wrists, and his fingers slide back into my hair, but this time he doesn’t tug. Instead, his palm and fingers cradle my head, holding it still as he stares into my eyes.

Held like this, arched over the floor and tucked against his much taller body, I feel like I’m floating, and my aching muscles turn to jelly, as if wanting to yield to him. To yield everything that I have. To yield all that I am.

“I want to kiss you,” he says hoarsely.

My sanity fights its way back. “Do you promise?”

He grins. “Yes, I promise to kiss you. I promise to kiss you so well you’ll ignite in my arms.”

I push a freed hand against his chest. “Do you promise to keep my secret?”

His lips move closer to mine, hovering so near I can feel them, even though they’re not touching.

“Your secret is bound to come out,” he says, achingly close to my lips. His mouth brushes back and forth, his touch as light as butterfly wings, and it sparks more raging fires.

Shifting his head back, he looks into my eyes. “Your secret will come out, Princess Rosomon. But I won’t be the one to reveal it. I give you my word.”

My hand moves from his chest and slides up his ropey neck as his mouth crushes mine.

Our kiss immediately confirms his deep hunger—as well as my own. Along with a flurry of tongues and lips and teeth, our hands roam everywhere, and we devour each other like we both have an unquenchable thirst.

His hands squeeze my backside, pulling me more tightly against him, and the evidence of his stiff rod throbs under his breeches. The sensation is so exciting I feel as if I’m going to explode before he even touches my cleft.

This is going to happen. I am going to have sex. Sex with Tynan.

When I came to his room tonight, I was willing to offer my body in exchange for his silence.

When he threatened to drill me as punishment for what I did to his family, I changed my mind.

But what’s happening now does not feel transactional.

Not from either one of us. What I’m feeling is fueled by lust.

I want Tynan. I want all of him. I want to know everything about him, inside and out. But above all, I want to learn how his hard rod will feel moving inside me.

He lifts me and tosses me onto the bed.

As I land, my entire body screams in pain at the jolt of sudden movement.

Bending over me, panting, he pauses, his desire hot in his posture, in his scent, in the swirling greens of his eyes.

“You’re hurt.” He keeps his arms stiff, creating space between us.

“I’m only a bit sore from training.” No chance will I mention the lingering, aching damage from what Saxon did.

Tynan bends to kiss me, lightly, but before I can take hold of his head to deepen our kiss, he backs away, moving right off the bed.

Confused, I touch my lips as I fight to catch my breath.

Taking hold of my hands, he draws me to a sitting position, and then to stand. His hand curls around the back of my neck as he looks down into my eyes. I’ve never felt so lost in another’s gaze.

“Princess Rosomon,” he says. “I do plan to fuck you. And I promise to fuck you far better than Saxon ever could. And believe me, my cock plans to punish your little cunny for what you did to my family.” His expression and voice are a confounding mix of threat and jest. “But not tonight. Let’s see if you survive another day here at camp. ”

Lifting me, he carries me to his door and sets me down in front of it. “Now go.” He pats my bottom. “Tonight, you need your bed far more than a good fuck.”