The savage and the swan

At that, I smiled, my nose brushing his as my thumbs danced over his stubbled cheeks to coast beneath those long lashes. He released a panted breath, arms trembling, and I whispered, “You’ve already wounded me beyond repair, so why stop now?”

Wrong thing to say.

The king peeled away, lust battling with something I couldn’t name in his eyes.

Shocked, I sat up, scrambling for him and hating myself for it but too afraid he’d back out of an agreement I’d thought we’d already made. “Wait.” He stood, his perfect backside stealing my attention, the muscular thighs collecting shadows and starlight as my panic rose higher.

His order was low, barely more than a grumble. “You may return to your rooms.”

“Excuse me?” Unbelievable. A

Dade halted by the chest of drawers, his entire frame stilling. “That wasn’t a request. It was an order.”

“Come and punish me then, for I refuse to obey.”

Peering at me over his shoulder, the animal that prowled beneath his skin shone back at me through his eyes. “Careful, swan.” A warning wrapped in two deceptively soft words.

“Or what?” I taunted, proud that I’d kept my voice steady when he slowly turned, and my insides quaked. “You’ve made a mess between my legs. Prior to that, you made me a promise you haven’t kept.”

“Did I now?” he mocked, then took two large, calculatingly slow steps to the edge of the bed.

My eyes dragged over his terrifying yet undoubtedly impressive manhood, my stomach dissolving into butterfly-flooded lava. They roamed over the sharp definition of his hips and abdomen, then lifted to the wings that flared in shadow behind his back and arced over the walls to block out the moonlight.

As if my gaze were a feathered touch, he groaned.

Finally, I met his eyes. I met them, and I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip before purring, “It sure seemed that way to me.”

His head tilted, and then it was his turn. His gaze was utterly inhuman, growing wilder as it crawled between my legs, swayed over my breasts, and then shifted to my face when I threw myself back over his bed and tangled my hands within my already tangled hair. “Honest answer?”

The bed dipped with his weight. Fingers curled around my ankle before slowly moving up, up, up, and stopping at my thigh. “Always,” he said, strained.

The admission burned, my throat and my tongue and my lips. “I don’t think I could leave even if you really wanted me to.”

He froze. Then he was back, above me and staring down at me, so fast that I squeaked as he said roughly, “You torment me.”

“So,” I said to that addictive mouth. “Torment me back.” My legs wound around his back, feet pressing him closer.

Another groan. “You will regret it.” Yet he was still aligning himself, prepared to strike and kill as soon as he’d been given the go-ahead. “We both know you will.”

I wouldn’t lie to him, not like this, but I found myself wanting to when he looked at me like that. As though I were a blade he adored yet would continuously puncture himself in the chest with.

That was impossible. The blood king had no heart, no feelings outside of his own, but maybe, judging by the fear flickering on the surface of those depthless, stormy eyes, he had a soul.

A soul I would destroy.

Gently, I clasped my hand over his cheek, brought his forehead to mine, and kissed his nose as tears stung my closing eyes. “Maybe I will, or maybe…” I kissed his mouth, his sharp exhale burning over my lips. “Maybe it will be the one and only thing I could never regret.”

His arm slid under my shoulders, his hand trapping my face to his as he fused our mouths, and his body crashed into mine with intense precision, erasing my maidenhead and my faulty plans.

Dade swallowed my scream, fingers at my hairline smoothing sweaty strands, his cock lodged inside me and so hard, so huge, that I feared I’d burst—rupture at every seam.

Countless labored breaths rushed free, and I didn’t. I didn’t break, and he kissed my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids. When they slowly opened, my muscles unlocking and melting, even while the slicing ruination still burned, my savage was watching, waiting. “I’m sorry.”

Stu

Perhaps he was learning.

I melted even more, my stiff limbs unspooling, fingers reaching for his sweat-misted brow. “Sorry for claiming my virginity, or sorry that you’ve hurt me?”

He huffed out a brief laugh, the deep sound jolting my heart, lighting his eyes, and reminding me of the fire between my thighs. Humming, he stole my fingers and brought them over my chest for his mouth to skim. “I’ll never apologize for the first.” Mirth left his eyes then. “But yes, I am sorry I hurt you. That I’ve”—he swallowed thickly—“that I’ve caused you such pain.”

The room swirled behind him, my heart both sinking and soaring, but he kissed me before I could order him away from me.

Before I could wail at him and demand he explain that apology to me in full.

I was glad he did, though—glad for the meeting of our lips and the gentle shifting of his unsure yet desperate body moving inside mine—for I knew what he was apologizing for.

And I didn’t want it. I wouldn’t have it.

But I would have him.

Our skin slipped and heated, and within moments, maybe a minute, Dade was no longer kissing me. He was grunting and shaking, and I knew he was restraining himself.

Fascinated, I pulled his face away from mine to study him, the corded lines of his throat, the bunching sinew in his shoulders and arms, the half-drunk, glazed look in his eyes—a tempest waiting to be unleashed.

“Let go,” I whispered, smiling a little.

“But I…” He groaned, his hips moving faster now, instinct drowning clumsy inexperience and flooding my body with an unexpected heat as he plunged into me, over and over, and I moaned. “Fuck,” he ground out, his head falling back, muscles spasming, shadows shaking the fire into ash, and his teeth bared.

In awe, my stomach coiled into a knot of need that had my thighs clenching around him, I watched. I watched his breath hiss between his teeth, his chest rise and fall in violent heaves, as he withdrew from my body and spilled himself over my stomach.

Then he fell over me, catching his weight before I was squashed and nuzzling his nose between my neck and shoulder with a thundering rumble of harsh breath. My hair curled with the heat of it, my slick skin sticking to his. “Stars almighty,” he rasped and pushed himself back inside my body. The pinching sting was easy to ignore when he kissed under my chin. “I have to,” he grunted. “You feel so good.” He pawed at my side, squeezing my hip. “So fucking good, I never want to leave.”

“I’d say I’ve created a monster, but a monster you already are.”

He huffed, fingers clenching at my hip, his not so flaccid length firming more inside me. Tiny needles of pain sparked, but I laid still, content to ignore it for I didn’t want him to leave either.

Then he sniffed, and move he did, carefully rising to his forearms. “You’re bleeding.” But that wasn’t disgust or worry in his gaze.