Page 103 of The Curse of Golden Blood
The confession broke something in me. I pulled her down for another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. Sheresponded immediately, her body melting against mine, her hands tangling in my hair. I rolled us, pressing her into the mattress, needing to feel her beneath me, alive and warm and real.
"Devour me," she whispered against my mouth, a sexy challenge in her voice that made my blood sing.
I traced the line of her throat with my tongue, tasting the salt of her skin. "Maybe I’ll ruin you completely."
Her laugh was breathless, wicked. "You think you can?"
I pulled back to look at her, taking in the way her golden hair spread across the dark pillows like spilled sunlight, the way her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. The morning light streaming through the windows caught in her eyes, turning them molten.
I let my power slip just enough that electricity danced across my fingertips as I traced the curve of her collarbone. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as the current sparked against her skin.
"I have so many plans for you, little dove." I kept my touch gentle, teasing. "So many ways I intend to break you."
"Promises, promises."
I chuckled.
I chuckled, then caught her wrist and pinned it above her head. Her pulse hammered against my thumb.
"What's your word, Miralyte?"
Confusion flickered across her features. "My... what?"
Of course. Sweet, inexperienced little dove. "Your safe word. Something you can say if I push too far."
"I won't need—"
"I won't continue until you have one."
She blew out a breath, her hair shifting slightly against her shoulders. She seemed to realize there was no arguing with the look on my face. "'Kallir'" in Old Fae. To stillthe storm.
She blushed furiously, and the sight made my cock twitch in my pants. The corners of my mouth tugged upward. "Very well. That will do, little dove."
"Won't you need one, too?"
I chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. "Oh, Mira, there is nothing you could ever do to me that I wouldn't welcome."
She frowned at that, but didn't question further.
Instead, she pulled my mouth down to hers, and all other thoughts fled.
The taste of her was intoxicating, sweeter than the most forbidden wine. I lost myself in the feel of her lips on mine, her breath mingling with my own. When her tongue flicked across my bottom lip, I groaned and captured her mouth with renewed intensity.
I explored her slowly, savoring every moan, every shudder, every breathless gasp. The feel of her hands in my hair, nails raking across my scalp, the bite of pain a counterpoint to the heat coursing through my body.
When I finally allowed her to break the kiss, her breathing was unsteady. "Please." The word came out in a whisper. "Zydar, please."
My hand slid up her thigh, feeling the tremble in her muscles. "You beg so sweetly." I kissed the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, working my way down to the pulse point in her throat. "But I want to hear you beg properly."
"Zydar—"
"No." I bit down on her neck, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make her gasp. "You'll address me correctly when I have you like this."
Her breathing hitched. "I don't understand."
I pulled back to look at her, letting her see the hunger in my eyes, the darkness that I'd been holding back. "My lord. YourHighness. Warlord." My thumb traced her bottom lip. "Pick one, little dove. But you will use it."
She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing deeper. I could see the war playing out behind her eyes. Pride against desire. The need to submit warring with the need to fight.
