Maybe. The thought hit like a blast of ice water, and she shifted in his arms, instantly self-aware. Her chest was rising and falling, and her neck was bent at a weird angle. He was talking to her, in Vestigi again. Those beautiful words, the loving praise that made her want things from him that she would never have.
Abellina in that gruff, gravelly voice.
His hard length pressed against her belly. Pulsing, and calling to her.
Her body was as limp as jelly, as he pushed away from the wall, moving her to the bed. He lowered her down, crawling above her, tugging at the scraps of her dress, until, with a great rent, it sheared away.
The last of the pearl buttons flew into the air like tossed confetti, and the seam tore down the center of the dress. She’d have nothing to wear in the morning. But that was a problem for another time. His eyes were so dark, but his cheeks were flushed, and if his hair was that messy, hers must be a disaster.
His body pressed down on her, heavy and warm, one of his thighs settling between hers. He stroked her hair back from her face. “You’re beautiful when you come. Someday soon, you’ll say my name as you do.”
The searing head of his shaft nudged against her.
“Can you imagine it, Klym?” He traced the head along her slippery entrance, up to the hard bead of her clit. “Can you imagine what it will feel like to let me inside?”
She didn’t have to imagine. She knew. She’d dreamed it so many times it felt like it had already happened. He would push his way inside, so thick and hard and hot that she stopped thinking or caring or worrying about anything. He would push it all away until there was room for nothing but him. It would feel like being owned. Taken. Like everything that made her her would be replaced by him. And to give someone that sort of power over her, she’d have to trust them. And there was no part of her that trusted Tor. He was too unpredictable. Too different.
But again, as always with him, her body overrode her sanity. Her hips moved, shifting to get the angle right, to drag her most sensitive flesh over his, answering the call of his body.
He let out a long, protracted moan, almost anguished. “Give this a chance, amiera.”
He stilled, his dark gaze burrowing into her, waiting.
All she’d have to do is lift her hips, and she was so insanely wet he’d probably slide inside.
“You have to say it, Klym.” He pressed just a little closer, and gods help her, the tip slid in, not much more than an inch, but it was so thick and hard, she had never, not once in her entire life, craved anything like she craved him at that moment.
“You said you wouldn’t take me.”
“All you have to do is ask. Let’s find out what really happens when a Prime fucks an Argenti woman.”
He spoke of wanting her. And liking her. He never spoke of love. She opened her mouth, certain she would say yes. But she didn’t. Because she was a coward and he was an abductor. “No.”
For a moment, she thought maybe he’d ignore her, take her anyway. It would be so easy. He was already there.
He made a face like he was in terrible pain, his eyes squeezed tight, his mouth twisted, and finally pulled away, leaving her body empty and bereft as he took his shaft in his hands. He was shaking, and it only took two strokes before his stomach tightened, his face twisted, and his hips bucked. The veins on his lower belly thickened, and he came in thick, long ropes that splashed between her parted legs.
He stayed there, looming over her on the bed, face dark and unreadable, panting and growling, barely even human.
Moving as if under some strange spell, he gathered his seed on two fingers and slid them inside her, jamming them in deep, hooking behind her pelvic bone, grinding the heel of his hand against her clit in a jerk so hard she screamed out in surprised pain and pleasure. He forced a third finger inside, and did it again, and again, over and over until a deranged, manic orgasm ripped its way through her, and left her shuddering and sweating, fractured and breathless.
Tears burned behind her eyes, and she rolled onto her side, unable to stand the possessive gleam in his eyes.
How long could she continue like this? Melting for him, evaporating under the onslaught of his brutal possession. How long before she gave in?
She was losing already.
23
I could pee on your feet
But I’d rather do this
TOR HAD FORGOTTEN about the shayassi birds. Smaller than his thumb, pink, with yellow breasts and purple wings, they strutted around the balcony, flitting from vine to vine, flapping their feathers, preening and squawking, like arrogant fops, nothing like the blood-hungry birds on Araa-Ara.
As he woke to a rosy dawn, the scent of the tammin thick in the air and a sleepy Klym all over him wasn’t half bad.
He trailed a hand along her spine, smiling when she pressed against him, all delicious tits and smooth thighs, warm and slack with sleep. Peaceful.
For the moment. As soon as she woke, those bars of mistrust and hurt would slam shut like a gate, eroding all the progress they’d made.
Last night, for a few moments, in his arms, it had melted away and they’d been together without anything between them.
Peace with her never lasted long.
He needed to mark her. Not that it was a permanent solution. But it would keep everyone confused.
“Wake up, amiera,” he muttered against her temple.
She mumbled and wriggled, but her eyes stayed stubbornly shut.
He rolled them so she was on her back, and he was half on top of her.
“What time is it?”
“Early.”
She shoved
