Page 44 of Right Hand Of The Reaper
“No, I don’t. You take that back,” he replied with a pout. “I’m a walking nightmare, I am not adorable.”
I traced his lips with the tip of my finger. “My cute widdle nightmare.”
He nipped the end of my finger, his sharp teeth pinching it and I yelped a little. “There’s nothing little about me, kitten.”
I giggled, honest to Gods, giggled like a schoolgirl. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Atticus lay back down his head on my chest and I ran my fingers through his hair again. I swear the guy was one second away from purring.
“This is a first for me,” he mumbled with a low contented rasp.
“What? Sex?”
“No. Cuddling.”
My hand stilled in his hair. “You’ve never cuddled?”
“No. Nightmare demons are not an affectionate species. Even after sex. It was always just about the act, never about the intimacy of it.”
“So you’ve never been held like this? Touched like this?” I asked as I went back to stroking his hair.
“No. But I like it. I like it because it’s you, Roux.”
And with those words I fell for him a little bit more. Who knew Metus demons liked to be cuddled? Although, the thought of Atticus cuddling with someone else both amused and angered me. I didn’t want him touching anyone else but me and boy, was that a possessive thought. A spot on my sternum grew hot and Atticus pulled back from me to look at it.
There, right down the middle of my chest, were a swirling collection of delicate black marks that matched some of the designs on Atticus’ torso. They were beautiful.
Atticus let out a contended sigh at the sight of his mark on me. “What thought made it burn, kitten?”
I blushed. “The thought of you touching anyone else. I think I’d probably gouge their eyes out with a spoon if anyone so much as looked at you.”
He hummed appreciatively at my words, his fingers tracing the black lines that ran the length of my sternum. “Possessiveness is a good look on you. Makes me want to fuck your beautiful cunt again.”
I jolted at his dirty words but I couldn’t deny the fact that my core clenched at the sound of them.
“I know you have a connection with the twins, and while I don’t completely understand it, I wont stand in the way of it or anyone else your heart might choose. You chose me. That’s all that matters.”
How was he so perfect?
“I like you with my marks,” he said, his fingers dancing across my skin.
So did I. A lot. I loved the way I felt branded by him. Marked.
Owned.
It was only then that he realised the twins weren’t where he left them. “Where are your Hounds?”
“Well…”
“The only way they could have broken from my hold on their mind was if I’d died.”
“Um…”
“Did sex with you kill me?” he asked an amused, and slightly puzzled, look gleaming in his starry eyes.
“Um…I think it did.”
“What?”
