Page 61 of The King is Dead
“No more distance, Melek, be angry if you must, but… you’re mine. You’ll always be mine. And I want this—I want you. I wanteverything.”
Something in him swung open. I felt the rush of him through the bond, a wave of resistance, resentment, fear that broke like a dam giving under the pressure behind it.
Still clinging to his neck, I buried my face under his jaw and kissed that vulnerable skin as he growled and moved again, lifting me, getting to his feet without leaving me.
I whispered his name against his throat and wrapped my legs around his waist as he straightened and turned, a strange low rumble in his chest as he turned circles, looking. Then moved us with that whip-crack speed he had at times.
My ass hit the dresser and he groaned as he planted me on it. His wings unfurled behind him and something nearby crashed to the stone floor, but we both ignored it as he lifted his head to meet my eyes, one hand in my hair, the other cupping my ass, holding me there as he thrust again, and the dresser, despite its size and weight, began to thunk against the wall with the force of him.
Our eyes locked and even though my vision was beginning to blur, something about having his eyes on mine opened my heart—and the bond.
We both groaned as the bond spiraled and whipped, lashing us with light and power that pulsed and throbbed in time with our lovemaking.
I plunged both hands into his hair, grabbing his warrior’s length with one, fisting the shorter strands with the other and arched into him, panting as he took me again and again.
“Melek… please…” I whispered.
He shook his head, but his eyes never left mine.
“Melek, Iloveyou.”
“You’remine.”
“Yes—and Iwantto be—”
Tearing his eyes from mine with a snarl, he grabbed me up again and turned us both, dropping me onto the bed so fast, I lost my grip on his hair and my upper-body bounced. I barely had time to gasp before he grabbed my waist and yanked me towards him, the fur tickling my skin as he pulled me onto him, then held my hips, driving into me with a long, low putter of frustrated need. Ass half-off the bed, and my body plundered, I was helpless and could only grip the furs and let him drive into me, watching as his gaze dropped to my breasts and his eyes flashed with need, his cock thickening within me so my mouth fell open.
When he tipped forward, I reached for his chest, but he grabbed both my hands and lifted them over my head, pinning my wrists, manacling them in one of his hands, grabbing my hip with the other and pulling me up to meet him as he drove into me again, so hard that I cried out.
I was bowed backwards, my body extended, and Melek growled and groaned, dropping his head and nipping my breasts as he rocked into me again and again.
But the bond was thrumming, singing, alight with joy, and there was ragged relief in him that hadn’t been there when we started.
With time, we were moving together, and his thrusts grew less aggressive, and longer, our bodies undulating together.
“Melek… I want to touch you,” I whispered, clamping down on him because he made mefeelso much.
He groaned and released my hands, standing back, pulling my legs tighter around his waist and holding my thigh on one side to keep me positioned as he stared down at me, his eyes glazed with lust, and his forehead sheened in sweat.
“You’re so beautiful, Yilan,” he croaked, reaching for my breast with his free hand, cupping it, teasing my nipple with his thumb. “These days have been…God…”
“I know. I know,” I almost sobbed, I felt sofull.“Me too.”
“I need you, Yilan. You can’t do that to me again.”
“Together—we have to do thistogether.”
I was reaching for him, stroking his arms—ridged and lined like steel bars because of his tension. “I need you…”
“You have me!”
“Then kiss me. Tell me you still love me.Please.”
With a strangled groan, he pitched forward, falling over me, both elbows braced over my shoulders, his hands cupped over my head. His jaw twitched and rolled, fighting the pleasure. But his eyes…his eyes were pained.
With a clench of grief in my chest, I reached for his precious face, cupping his jaw and holding him there so he didn’t break eye-contact.
But he didn’t fight me. He was searching my eyes now, his thrusts becoming longer, rolling questions—reaching for me from within.
