Page 52 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
Mason smirks against my throat. I feel the sharpness of it. He lifts his head and licks a line up my cheek, following the trail of a tear already shed.
“Good,” he says.
I almost scream when he finally tightens his grip and begins to stroke me. He doesn’t go slowly. His hand moves rapidly up and down my length as he lowers his head to bite and suck the skin on my throat. There’s nothing I can do but hold on, head tossed back, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“Come for me, little lamb,” Mason says, and I do, two or three firm strokes after the words pass his lips. Cum shoots over my chest and stomach as pleasure explodes through my body, making my legs shake and my back arch.
Mason kisses down my throat. No bites this time. Just soft presses of his lips over and over again.
I go slack beneath him, trying to catch my breath. Mason lets out a little hum and lowers himself down onto me, the entire length of his body against mine.
“I’ll kill Dane for you,” he says, and the words come out so matter-of-factly that I bark out a laugh.
“No, you won’t.”
Mason moves his hand—or something; all I feel is a faint rush of air—and the candle next to the bed comes alight. I stare between it and him.
“How did you—”
“I will,” Mason says. His face is flushed from what we’ve just done, and not just that. His eyes glitter with the truth of his words, the vehemence behind them. “I’ll kill him for thinking he can lay a hand on you.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Sometimes I might do things you don’t want. Especially if I think that’s best for you.”
I bristle at that, but only a little. Mason kisses me hard, stealing away any words, and for a moment, I wonder if it really might be so bad if he killed Dane after all.
No. Nope.I’lldo it if it’s necessary, but I don’t know that it is.
“How did you just light that candle?” I ask instead when Mason lets me catch my breath.
The grin he gives me now is mischievous. “Magic.”
“Mason…”
“I mean it. I healed your face, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And Otto’s shoulder. Emma and Sal did the same.”
“You expect me to believe in magic.”
“I expect you to believe inme.” He tilts his head to one side. “Besides, you said it yourself. There should have been a wound.”
“They healed it all away? The virus…”
“All of it,” Mason says with a nod.
“And everyone in this town can do that, can they?”
“Yes. You’ve seen their marks.”
The blue swirls on their skin. That means they have magic? My eyes sweep the length of him. “You don’t have one.”
“It never appeared for me,” Mason says with a careless shrug.
“But you have magic?”
