Page 65 of The Curse of Golden Blood
"You're not allowed to have lovers," I reminded her, fighting to keep the growl out of my voice.
Her jaw tightened. "That's not true. We're allowed to have lovers as long as we don't... procreate with them."
I struggled to maintain my composure, but my control slipped and I growled out what she needed to know, the sound low and rough in my throat. "Make sure you follow the rules."
The light rain beaded along her skin, catching in her lashes, turning the loose strands of her hair dark and damp. She tilted her head, the wind pressing her skirts against her legs, and I felt the shift in her gaze before she spoke.
“And what if I broke the rules?” she asked softly, almost teasing. “You’ve made it clear you wouldn’t hurt me.”
The space between us seemed to narrow even though I hadn’t moved.
She held her ground, and I could hear her blood beating beneath her skin, smell the sweat and rain mixing on her skin. Her amber eyes gleamed in the half light, and I could see her pulse pounding in her throat.
“I,” I murmured, stepping closer until the damp heat of her breath mingled with mine, “wouldn’t need to hurt you to make you regret it.”
She didn't move, didn't try to run away or even back up. Instead, her gaze narrowed, as if she were searching for something I wasn't letting her see. I kept my face cold, emotionless, giving away nothing. I could see the thoughts whirling behind those honey eyes.
"What would you do to me then?" she breathed.
Her voice was a challenge, an invitation. My gaze traced the shape of her lips, the delicate line of her throat. She was still holding my gaze, still refusing to back down.
My fingers brushed along the line of her jaw, down the column of her neck. She shuddered, and I felt a small, fierce smile curve my lips.
I traced the shape of her collarbone with a finger, watching as her pupils dilated, darkening her eyes to black. “If he were to lay his hands on you... touch you... I would break every bone in them. I would make him wish he had never been born."
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I let my thumb graze the side of her neck, feeling her pulse jump against my skin. She swallowed hard, her eyes locked on mine.
"You don't have that right," she whispered.
I raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"No." Her voice was steadier now, despite the way her breath hitched. "You kidnapped me. Forced me here. Made me a prisoner in your court. That doesn't give you the right to dictate who touches me."
"Doesn't it?" I murmured, my voice dropping to a low growl. "You are under my protection. That makes you mine to defend."
"Yours?" She let out a breathless laugh, though there was no humor in it. "I belong to no one."
I slid my hand up her throat, taking hold of her chin and tilting her face toward mine, in the exact pose of that saucy illustration she’d been staring at a few nights before. Gods, the memory of her blushing as her eyes hungrily went over every detail of the page had nearly made me lose control. Her breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. Her gaze flickered to my lips for a heartbeat, and I felt my pulse speed up.
"Then why are you blushing, little dove?" I slid my fingers into her hair, tugging at it just enough to tilt her head back. "Why are you trembling like a trapped bird?"
She glared at me, but the anger was stained with uncertainty, maybe even a hint of desire. "You arrogant—"
"Tell me," I interrupted, my voice softening into something dangerous. "Tell me you want nothing to do with me. That you wish I had never brought you here. That you hate me."
Her eyes flicked over my face. She swallowed. A hint of color spread across her cheeks. Her pulse was pounding under my grip, and her pupils had dilated until her eyes were almost black. But she was stubborn. Too stubborn.
"I hate you," she breathed. "Gods help me, I hate you."
I smiled, slow and wicked. "I don't believe you."
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and I dragged my thumb along that pretty mouth. I bent closer, a thrill going through me when her breathing grew shallow, her body tense.
"Then push me away," I whispered, brushing my nose against hers. "When I do this—" I pressed my mouth to hers, the tip of my tongue stroking the seam of her lips and tasting her, gentle and slow. My hands slid down to the nape of her neck.
The kiss was like a light burning inside me, warm and bright and consuming. Her hands slid to my chest, her fingers splaying across my heart.
My shoulders dropped, some of the tension leaving me. Her lips were soft, a light pressure, and her hands slid from my heart to my face, pulling me closer. She parted her lips, deepening the kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair.
