Page 25 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

Soren's face gives nothing away. "We are looking."

"And I am to trust that you are doing that blindly? You tell me you will find him, but never tell me the progress of your search."My fingers tighten around the cup. "You aren't lying to me, are you?"

He moves with that eerie swiftness that often scares me, and in less than a second, an elegant finger crooks under my chin, lifting my head, so I find myself lost in that all-consuming gaze of his. "It would matter if I swore on my life that all I do is for your safety. You don't trust me now, but you will soon."

His breath tickles my lips and his eyes seem to linger there before he pulls away. "You should get some sleep. The night is still young."

Breathing shakily, I set the mug down. "It's getting harder. To fall asleep, I mean." Hard to want to sleep when you're too busy dying whenever your eyes are closed.

A playful light takes all the darkness from Soren's face and he suddenly seems years younger, the sharp planes of his face as hauntingly beautiful as ever. "I could get you relaxed and asleep in minutes. It's an unconventional method, but it works."

My eyes narrow warily, fingers toying with the hem of my outer robe. "I'm not letting you drug me."

His eyes flick to the tea and mischief brightens them. "Who says I haven't, already?"

I choke on the tea and start coughing. He laughs, deeply. "Gods, Sera. You take me too seriously." He leans back against the couch, bracing his fingers on his thigh. "I was speaking of something else. An orgasm."

My lips part. My cheeks are on fire. "W-what?"

"You know, the feeling after?—"

"I know what it is!" I growl and he laughs again. "We aren't doing that. Y-you are not touching me."

That smile grows. "No, I won't. But you will."

My skin grows too hot for comfort and I keep my fingers curled tightly enough that my nails bite into my palms. "No."

But the idea has festered. When was the last time I thought about such things? When was the last time I indulged myself and let loose? The last I recall was a few weeks before mother died. A cute Beta who had stalked me for days. But he had barely touched me like I needed to, far more interested in getting off than pleasuring me.

It usually is so for most men. Selfish and greedy.

Funny that I don't recall the sex that has gotten me pregnant. How it must have felt to surrender myself like that. Did he kiss me first? Did he lavish my neck with strokes of his teeth and tongue like Soren does? Did he know the most sensitive parts of me, how to manipulate them and make me feral?

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Soren's voice comes from everywhere, at the same time. He's pulling an aura on me, a different type from the usually violent one I'm used to.

His voice is deeper, thicker and yet, softer. I can feel it against my skin, in my head, between my legs, making my insides ache painfully.

"You cage yourself by thinking too much, Sera." I don't realize I have shut my eyes, or that I have begun to lean against the back of the couch until he says, "Good." He's in my head again. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are when you don't resist?"

Heat prickles up my spine. My hips lift instinctively, and though I know he hasn't moved from where he sits on the couch beside me, I imagine him kneeling in front of me, arms bracing against my thighs, eyes focused on my heat.

I clench, hard. Gods, I must have lost my mind.

"You're hot, aren't you? Achy, needy. I can smell you."

I swallow hard, fingers curling on my thighs. I can't seem to fight the need consuming me. It's him. He's doing this to me somehow and I can't fight it.

"Raise your gown, Seraphina." A command.

My breath catches and I suck in my bottom lip, feeling the silk between my fingers as I drag it along my skin until cool air caresses inside my thighs.

Shame curls in my stomach, but he whispers, his voice coming from somewhere lower this time, "Don't overthink it. It's just you. I won't look if you don't want me to. Or even better..." I feel the room darken, even with my closed eyes. He's turned off the lights.

My fingers graze my inner thigh more boldly and I exhale harshly as his voice, like liquid lust, pours into my mind. "Run your fingers over yourself. Just on the outside. Feel how warm you are."

I've never done this before. Touch myself to the voice of a man, following his every instruction, knowing he can very well see me do his bidding and enjoy it. It is dirty, mortifying and undeniably sexy.

My spine arches as my fingers trail over the damp heat of my panties. A shameful sound echoes in the room and I hate it. Hatehow wet I am, how much I ache to push my panties aside and get this over with. Maybe then, I'll stop thinking about what it'd feel like for his lips to replace my fingers.

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