Page 172 of The Nightmare Bride
“Yes, it’sfine,” he said. “Of course it’s fine. This next part won’t be at all enjoyable for me unless it’s enjoyable for you.”
“The next part. Which is?”
But Kyven had already tossed the book aside. He crawled across the mattress and swung a leg over me, bracketing my hips with his knees, pinning me to the bed.
A cold thrill shivered through me. This was it, then. It had to be. I slid a hand beneath my pillow, curling my fingers around the hilt of my dagger.
“Thefunpart,” he crooned. “The part that makes all this absurdity worthwhile.”
My breathing accelerated. I would let him get close, I decided. As close as he liked. Then, the moment the pain began, he’d find a knife in his back for his trouble. “You mean the part where you make me scream?”
“If I do things properly, yes.” He grinned. “May I?”
Sweat broke out on my palms. Was he reallyasking permissionto hurt me? Whatever. I was done playing. “Go ahead.” My voice rang with challenge. “Do your worst.”
His eyes went hot and hooded. “How about my best?” He reached up and flicked his shirt buttons open, one by one.
An involuntary breath sliced from my lungs. I should have looked away. I really, really should have. Instead, I lay transfixed, like a snake beguiled by the charmer, or maybe a hapless rabbit, snared by the gaze of the lynx.
Kyven peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside. Fucking hell, but he was all lines and angles, sketched with an unforgivingsharpness that filtered straight into my bloodstream. And in that moment, I’d never envied Amryssa her imperviousness to temptation more, because this man had the kind of beauty that could make me forget myself. He was all chiseled savagery, flesh stripped to its barest essentials, malice gloved in the thinnest of satin.
Revulsion and excitement clashed in my belly. My dagger awoke, humming a question, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond.
Kyven leaned down. When I didn’t recoil, he angled his head to nuzzle at my neck, and the moment his mouth found my throat, my spine bowed. Everything in me rioted.
Gods among us, that didn’t hurt. At all. It felt...fuckingdivine.
I closed my eyes and tried to think past the rush. Because this was all part of my plan, wasn’t it? Yes, yes, the plan. Now I only had to decide where to sink my blade. Maybe into his kidney, or the back of his neck, or...
Or...
Ohshit,that made my toes curl.
Kyven’s tongue painted languid strokes against my skin. One of his hands slid past my ear while he rucked up my nightgown with the other, his fingers trailing a caress along my thigh. The room shrank to an airless puddle, just heat and velvet and candlelight.
I whimpered. Seven hells, I should just stab this asshole and be done with it, but my willpower had receded. Probably because I’d never killed anyone before, and now the possibility immobilized me. Or maybe that was the russet-haired prince pinning me down.
The wet heat at my neck became insistent. Kyven sucked and teased and panted soft sounds against my ear. My stomach clenched, a million fluttering ribbons unspooling within.
Damn it. Maybe therewassomething worse than marrying a gorgeous psychopath who thought he was clever—marrying a gorgeous psychopath with whom I had blistering physical chemistry. And who, for some inexplicable reason, had decided to bepassionatewith me.
Kyven’s efforts increased. The dagger sizzled in my hand, but I rammed my eyes shut and blocked it out. As awful as it was, as horrific a person as it made me—and it did, it really did—no part of me wanted this to stop. That thing he was doing with his tongue was intoxicating. And the more I thought about it, didn’t he owe me some kind of compensation for putting me to all this trouble of killing him?
Yes, I decided. Absolutely yes.
“Touch me, lioness.” His breath was a lick of fire against my skin. “Wife.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. My free hand leapt to obey, skimming down hard planes of muscle before settling at the small of his back.
Kyven’s hand roamed under my nightgown, dipping into the curve of my waist. His palm was unexpectedly rough, but that hardly mattered when it felt like someone had plunged me into a vat of my own yearning, then dumped me out on the bed again, flushed and slippery and panting.
An unchecked moan worked free of my throat. Kyven responded with a sound that made my thighs clench, and then he was pulling my legs apart, settling between them, rocking his hips into mine.
“I’m going to relish every moment of this,” he said thickly. “There’s something captivating about you. Like if I’m not careful, you’ll bite.”
Oh, he had no clue. “Maybe I will.” I ground my hips upward, mirroring his movements.
“Mmm. Promise?”
