Page 90 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
His hand rests beneath my chin, face tilting until his breath ghosts across my lips. “Answer me, Lenore.”
I prefer Roseheart or little raven. I can sense the weight behind my first name. Like a punishment when you’re caught doing something naughty as a child.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Just once.”
There’s an almost imperceptible tightening of the hand on my face before it loosens again.
Harrow releases me and takes a step back. Emotions whir through his eyes. They speed past each other in a fight for finality. “Once. I suppose that will be an easy record to break.” He unfastens the chain holding his cape in place. It drops to the floor, landing in a pile like silky ink. His wrist shields come next, followed by his breastplate.
My mouth hangs open. He can’t be serious. “We’re doing this here? This doesn’t seem like the right time.”
“I don’t care if we’re in the middle of a hellscape. If you think I’ll go another minute without re-claiming you after another man has touched you, beeninsideyou, then you’ve severely underestimated my possessiveness.”
His torso is bare. A soft glow radiates off each edge of his carved figure like moonlight.
I’m staring, speechless, even as he drops his pants and bares his lower half to me. Harrow’s smooth, long cock juts upright, hard and ready. If it’s possible, it looks even larger than the last time I saw it. His wings expand outward, dwarfing the room.
Harrow snaps. The dark veil that’s been acting as a dress and shielding my body vanishes. He crooks a single finger, his silver rings glinting in the soft cabin lighting.
I stop when there are just a few feet between us. Harrow reaches an arm out, wrapping it behind my back and pulling me flush against him. The reaction I have when our bodies meet, skin to skin, is electric. Heat races through me, settling between my thighs.
Harrow leans down and grazes his nose along the underside of my jaw. “Where did it happen?”
My brain overheats when he runs his tongue up the column of my throat. “The… floor…” I’m panting already and we’ve barely touched.
When Harrow pulls back, white flames burn behind his eyes. “You let him take you on this filthy floor like some animal rutting you in the woods?”
My cheeks flame. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it? Allow me to see for myself.” His fingertips hover beside my temple, waiting for my permission.
He’s going to delve into my memories again. No, he’s asking me if he can see my memories.Oh gods, this is going to be humiliating.There will be no denying it now.I nod. As embarrassing as this will be, I don’t want to keep secrets from Harrow. It’s too draining.
Harrow sifts through my recent memories. I feel his fingers twitch, his search slowing as we pass my mother in the chapel. Just as quickly, he speeds past, halting when he lands on my time in the cabin with Cassius. The pressure of his fingertips against my temple intensifies as he replays the memory of Cassius pinning me to the floor.
Having to watch it for myself is brutal. The encounter looks worse than I realized. Cassius is unrecognizable as he takes me on the floor.
Harrow says nothing as he pulls free from my mind. His body presses against mine, backing me toward the bed.
“What did you see?” I ask, hoping he wasn’t able to view it as clearly as I just did.
“Enough to know you’ve been a very, very naughty little raven.”
“It was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Clearly.” His eyes narrow. “This took place the day after I made your bed my own. After I pleasured you until the sun rose.Did I leave you so unsatisfied that you were in need of another man’s touch so soon? Was my giving nature undesirable?”
“No. I told you. I wasn’t thinking clearly. There was a lot going on. Cassius was just trying to help.”
“Help?” The word comes out as a snarl. “The way he treated you was unacceptable. He borrowed your body and now he’s on borrowed time. How does it feel to know you’ve condemned him?”
“You can’t kill him if it’s not his time. You told me that.”
“I never said I would kill him. Use your imagination, Lenore.”
My throat is tight when I swallow. “What will you do?”
“I ought to turn his dick into a turnip and force you to bite it off.” A flicker of joy passes across Harrow’s serious features.
