Page 131 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
The hand around my throat tightens, not cutting off my air supply, not yet. Just threatening.
And something warped inside me… likes it.
“If you want to play at being a brat, be very sure you’re ready for the consequences.” His voice has dropped an octave, turning silky with danger.
“If it hurts?—”
“It will.” He doesn’t bother lying. “But I would never risk harming you, and I promise that you’ll come so hard riding my cock afterwards that it will be worth it.”
That promise, combined with the arousal snaking through me, gives me the confidence to raise my shaking hands to the fastenings on my cloak.
They come undone torturously slowly, and the fabric drops to the snow beneath me with a muffled thud. Then comes my gloves, then my jacket. Inch by inch, I peel my body out of my layers until I’m bare before him, shivering—but not from cold—as I face him down.
Drystan released my neck to let me pull my shirt over my head, but now he reclaims it, holding my nape possessively as he looks me over.
“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “Giving me those big purple eyes won’t save you, huntress. You knew the rules, and you broke them for him. Twice.”
“I’d break them for you, too.” My nipples pebble beneath his blazing stare.
His other hand comes up to pinch my chin between his forefinger and thumb.
“I would rather freeze for a thousand years than watch you die of exposure out here. Now, what do you say if you want me to stop?”
A blast of warmth hits me, his power heating the air around us as if to punctuate that statement.
“Stop.” I answer in the mortal tongue, the word feeling strange in my mouth now that I’m so used to speaking Fae.
“Good.”
That’s all the warning I get before his hand on my nape shifts, fisting into the roots of my hair. His mouth meets mine in a dark claiming that seems to travel straight down to the ache between my thighs.
“I want to tie you up,” he says when we part.
“What?” I’m panting, breathless.
He traces one hand down and grabs my wrist, pinning it behind my back. “You can say no, but if you say yes, you’ll take your spanking while suspended from that tree.”
He jerks his chin in the direction of some kind of black needled spruce which juts out of the snow. This one has no low branches, except for one that’s a little out of my reach.
How does one even…? Why is that so…?
I can’t seem to form a full coherent thought. Half of my cognitive powers have been wiped out by an eager flood of lusty curiosity.
My cheeks are burning, but I nod. I trust Drystan completely, and there’s no one around to see.
Only an idiot or a fae with the gift of fire would ever brave this deadly court at night.
His amber eyes turn molten as he captures my lips with another kiss that makes my toes curl before returning to Blizzard’s saddlebags. The tan-coloured rope he pulls out is thin, but glittery in a way that tells me it’s notjusta rope.
He holds it loosely in one hand and offers the other to me. I take it, allowing him to lead me over to my doom.
“I might touch your wings accidentally,” he murmurs, throwing the rope over the branch and testing it with his weight before looking at me. “If you’re not okay with that, I need to know so I can do something different.”
Biting my lip, I think about it for a moment before dropping the glamour over them with a sigh. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
I want to conquer this stupid panic. It’s ridiculous that Elatha can still affect me so badly, even though it’s been months since I was trapped beneath the mountain. My mates are my everything. I know without a doubt that Drystan will never ever hurt me like that, or threaten my wings, and when they do touch them, the pleasure is out of this world.
He nods, then takes my hair in his hand again. “Kneel.”
