Page 9 of Of Skulls Of Shackles

His hand could engulf my own, but he did not curl his fingers about mine, and instead pushed our hands against the base of my throat. He could still have strangled me, though my hand rested between his hand and my neck. The message seemed clear. See lifted his hand only to flip mine so that my fingers curled around my own neck.

My heart quickened, and his did too. Milky eyes snapped to mine to ensure his second message was delivered—the one where I understood that he could steal my breath at any given time, and that I would steal my own breath for him if he wished it.

Only then, did he leave my hand where it was to slide his palm down my chest to the low neckline of my dress. One large and chalky finger traced along the neckline, dragging along the stitched skin of my breasts.Calloused fingertips.My chest rose and fell, a damsel under his immortal touch.

“And has your body missed me, Perantiqua?” he murmured as if hypnotized.

His attempts to lessen our connection were not always so obvious. “Ihave missed you.”

His laugh was cold and humorless. “Must I always tend to your feelings before sampling the delights of your body? Do you tie one to the other still, the queen who knows that I would only tend those feelings for the purpose of exchanging bodily pleasure with her.”

I did still tie heart to body. But less so as dusks came and went. I did not relish in that sliding descent. “You spoke of respect and choice. Of trust and acceptance. Perhaps you should respect my feelings and my choice to tie together what I will. If not that, then why not trust that my feelings are meant to be tied to my body, or accept that this is so.”

“You seek to use my words against me, and yet you doing so only confirms how they haunt you.” He hissed while slipping his finger under the neckline of my corset. The bodice would not hold both his finger and my breasts. Something had to give.

One breast popped out of the corset, and his sudden tension reminded me of my power. This was not a one-sided affair. Ancients gave him more time to grow used to the sight of me because he had needed the advantage.

I slid my hand from where he had orchestrated my self-strangulation. I traced over the swell of my exposed breast, circling smaller until rolling my nipple gently.

A curse and a groan at once. Milky eyes did not blink. They saw no past, present, and future. Only me.

“They haunt me, sir. You haunt me,” I murmured.

“As you haunt me in sleep and in wake,” he said hoarsely. “Yes, I believe that we must share in all I say. In respect and choice and trust and acceptance.”

“Without love, how can such things be shared?” I spoke softly so as not to break my spell.

He did not answer. Could not?

I would not assume why no answer came. “There is great meaning in the touch of my flesh to yours. You know this. You withhold your touch to hurt me.”

“Yes,” said the king whom I would never escape.

I rose high on my knees to reach behind his neck. I dragged his head close to my bared breast, then I released my hold. His lips were a whisper from the hardened bud of my nipple. My next inhale nearly saw us make contact.

Nearly.

His breath was ragged.

“Withhold your touch, See,” I ordered, heady with his torment.

The towering king held still. He was frozen now.

I had decided to sip his poison, then offer my own poison in return. His indecision stroked my ego greatly.

Without any of the growling and blurred mindlessness I had imagined, King See hooked a finger in the front of my corset to drag me closer.

His thin, cruel lips closed over my nipple, and a low cry tumbled from my lips. He did not suck hard nor bite. The king rolled his soft tongue over my offering as though it were the most delicious treat. As though he did not care to eat up the treat too soon.

His lips curved against my breast as I gripped my hair out of utter confusion of how else to move without disturbing his rolling tongue.

A deep drag into his mouth, and a desperate scream left me. Two weeks too long! I used my pointer finger to raise his chin, then held his milky gaze as I freed my other breast.

“Withholding anything from you takes all the strength I have, and strength I cannot seem to ever find,” he told me raggedly. “My weakness shall be our undoing.”

“Your weakness is imagined.”

His milky eyes bore into mine, and in my lust, I was powerful enough to withstand his focus.

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