Page 49 of Whispers Beneath the Deep
“Does it matter to you?” His words weren’t unkind, and yet they wounded me just the same.
I gripped the hem of my dress in my fists. “Of course it matters to me. How could you think it wouldn’t?” My eyes went to the visible parts of his skin, to the kelp bandaged against his wound. I couldn’t stop myself from scooting forward until our tails were touching. My hands went up to hover over the wound. “You got hurt trying to save me. Why wouldn’t it matter?”
Kai’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he pulled my hand away from his wound, bringing it up to his mouth instead. The tips of my fingers hovered just over the edge of his lips.
“I cannot read you, Princess.” His breath was hot as it fanned against my skin. Too hot. Was he feverish? He sounded fine, if a little dark and dangerous. “Before I could. Easily. You were unbearable. I dreaded marrying you.” He pulled at my wrist until the tips of my fingers pressed against the warmth of his mouth. “And now…” His tongue darted out to lick my skin. I shivered, and not entirely out of fear. “I like this version of you so much more.” He moved to the next finger, licking it. And then to the next. “Is it hypocritical of me to despise that other part of you, and yet want you to want every piece of me?”
I swallowed. “No…” My voice came out a breathy rasp. He finished licking every finger, and moved to the palm of my hand. He pressed a soft kiss there.
“Yet, you do not love me.”
His words were an accusation, laced with dark amusement. My hand tensed, and I nearly pulled away but he held me in place, hand tightening around my wrist, the other digging into my hip.
“You cannot make someone love you. I know that.” He pulled me close. Too close. My body curved into his treacherously until I was on his lap. Our chests were pressed against each other. I could feel his heartbeat, the rasp of his erratic breathing. The hand at my hip slid around to my lower back and up the length of my spine. His fingers traced at the back of my neck just before he dug them into the roots of my hair. His rough touch sent the tie holding the pieces back snapping, causing my hair to tumble around my shoulders. He tugged, and my neck arched, naked and vulnerable to his ministrations.
A kiss was pressed to the base of my throat. I was wound so tightly, I could hardly tremble. Yet my breath hitched. He kissed my pulse, tongue warm, licking my flesh.
“But if I cannot make you love me for me…” He pressed a kiss to the side of my mouth.
I could do nothing but wait for the fallout. Wait to see what he did. I should’ve pushed him away, yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when my gut was curling. Not when, despite my better judgment, I wanted him to continue. To see how far this would go.
The hand holding my wrist forced my palm to his chest, to touch the burning panes of his body. He slid my hand down. I did not fight it. I let him guide me, pushing past the material of his robes, down the ridges of his abdomen, past the sash…
“...then I will make you love me for my body.”
He wrapped my hand around the hard length of him.
I gasped at the scorching feeling of soft steel against my palm. My eyes flew open—when had they closed?—and I took him in. His eyes were fixated on me, dark, and glowing around the edges. It was all daring. All consuming. I’d wanted to be devoured by the Dragon Prince, and now I was getting my wish.
“Make your decision now, my gem.” He slid my hand up and down that part of him that was wholly male. Smooth, hard, and hot. “You can leave if you do not want any part of me. But if you stay…” He leaned forward, our lips touching slightly. “I will make youmine.”
Subconsciously, my tongue darted out to lick my lips, and he was so close, that I licked his too. His eyes flashed, like what I imagined the strike of a bolt of lightning would look like. Still, he did not move. Awaiting my response, lava and ice raging a war in his eyes. Dragon eyes, I realized with a start. They were wider, pupils slit, a blue glow of ice around the edges.
I should leave. Get up, and swim out. Prince Kai was not mine. We weren’t meant to be. A wilder part of me thrashed like a fish on a hook.Stay. It begged. It begged for a sensation other than loneliness, a sensation of importance. To be held by a prince. To take and not care of the consequences. Did it matter if I wasn’t who he thought I was? He knew my soul.
That was good enough.
“Stay,” I whispered with a savagery I’d never felt before.No longer will I let anyone else dictate what I could or could not take…
Kai smiled, just before he pulled me into a hungry kiss.
His tongue dove in, exploring, hungry and demanding. He devoured me with his mouth, and I let him take all of me. Our mouths melded, dancing in a way that was foreign and familiar at once. A clash of tongue and teeth, just like the day we’d danced with swords. Daring each other to be bolder, to attack without restraint.
His hand covering my own moved. Up and down the feverish length of his member. He groaned against my mouth, sound rumbling deep in his chest. His hips moved, and the strokes of his hand—myhand—went faster, faster. I squeezed, closing tightly around him because as much as he was commanding my movements, I wanted to feel him too. The heel of my palm grazed the rounded head of his member.
Kai tore his mouth away andgrowled. He yanked on my wrist and I fell back. The only thing that cushioned me from hitting the floor painfully was his arm snaked around my waist. I gasped as his body loomed over mine.
There was something all too predatory about him when he leaned down and took my mouth again. It was a branding, a possession. He tasted like ice and spice, and I couldn’t get enough of it. His nails dug into my waist, and the sound of tearing assaulted my ears.
I tore away from his kiss to look down. Inky black talons curved against my skin just where his nails had been. He pressed the tip of one against the dress and slid it up. Sharp as knives, my dress ripped at the seams. All. The. Way. Up.
He pinched the yellow dress between two talons and peeled it off. It ripped some more until the newly tattered garment was pulled entirely from my body.
I hadn’t expected him to move with such fervor. Hadn’t expected the ardent desperation he touched me with. Like I’d vanish if he stopped. I hadn’t expected my own reaction, equally feverish, gripping, pulling, tugging. My body curved into his, shyness dissipating. I didn’t care about my injury, didn’t care that he’d see my scars. His teeth grazed across my collarbone, and I shuddered, responding by sinking my own teeth into the side of his neck.
It was rough, and his body was hot, too hot it couldn’t be normal.
I pushed down at his clothes, desperate to feel every inch of his skin against mine. His fingers ripped at his own clothes, at the sash. The material was pushed to the side, and he lowered himself onto me. His body a brand. A claiming.
