Page 210 of Bitten & Burned
“Quil, I know I did something stupid?—‘
“It wasn’t stupid. That’s the thing. You didn’t do anything wrong. Still, there’s nothing you can say that will take away the way my heart broke when I realized you were in danger.”
I sniffed, a tear pooling in the corner of my eye.
“Gods, I can’t stop thinking about it. About you, lying in that cell, in too much pain to cry. Calling for me.” His chin quivered. “I can’t stop.”
His shoulders were tight, every line of him sharp and taut, like they had been before the bond. Before I knew how soft he could be. But he was shaking.
“You have to learn that not everyone is good like you,” he whispered. “You can’t trust them to do the right things. Most people aren’t good. And I want you to stay like this—soft and warm. I need you to stay. I need you not to go anywhere alone. I can’t protect you if you do. I need you to—obey.”
His eyes flashed when he said it.
And if they hadn’t, I might have been upset with him for saying it in the first place. But gods—the way he looked at me. The fucking heat in his gaze. The way those eyes dragged over every inch of my body until I could feel it. Fuck, it felt good.
Too good. Like phantom magic sparking in my fingertips, good.
“Obey?” I murmured, shifting so I could rise on my knees. He was close, close enough to touch. “You want me to obey?” I whispered, tugging on his hand. Ipressed my lips against his throat, wetting the skin with my tongue. Blowing on it to watch him shiver.
“Rowena…”
“I know. You want me to obey. But I…I want you tomakeme.”
His eyes darkened, his lips parted as he ran his tongue over his fangs.
“You want me to make you?”
I nodded, reaching up to start unbuttoning my sweater. “Lock the door.”
He growled and tore himself away from me, closing and locking the door before returning to my side.
“Floor,” he growled.
“Couch is more comfortable.”
He threaded his fingers through my hair, wrapping it around his fist and yanking my head back to bare my throat. “I said…floor.”
I scrambled to obey him, crawling onto the floor as he unbuttoned his shirt, practically ripping it off as he knelt beside me on the carpet.
I shoved my sweater off, feeling the seams pop as I let it fall and tossed it aside. My hands went to my skirt, but his stopped me, hard and pressing. He pulled them from my clothing, sliding in close, and he held them both behind my back, forcing my chest forward.
He dropped his head to my shoulder, lips pressing softly against my skin.
“Are you sure you want this? That you want this side of me?”
“Quil,” I murmured. “Do you remember that first time you bit me?”
He inhaled sharply. “Rowena… I?—”
“Do you remember before you lost control?” I pressed on;my point was necessary, even if it caused momentary discomfort.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Tell me about it.”
“Rowena,” he protested.
“Quil, please.”
