"You think I'm soft?" Her voice held a note of challenge even as her body arched into my touch.
"I think you're soft where it matters." I kissed her again, deeper now, pouring everything I couldn't say into the press of my mouth against hers.
She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "And what are you? Beneath all the scars and the reputation and the fear you inspire?"
The question caught me off guard, and it made me hesitate in ways I rarely did.
"Tired," I admitted finally, the truth pulled from somewhere deep I'd thought I'd locked away forever. “Tired of pretending the only thing I feel is rage."
Her expression softened, her hand coming up to cup my face with surprising tenderness. "Then maybe we can both stop pretending, at least with each other."
I silenced her with another kiss, this one less controlled, more demanding. Showing her with my mouth and my hands and my barely restrained hunger exactly how real this was. How much I wanted her, needed her, and was willing to risk everything for her. When I pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"Real enough for you?" I asked, my voice rough with desire I was fighting to control.
She nodded mutely, her pupils blown wide, and her lips swollen from my kisses.
"Let me show you that being mine doesn't mean being owned,” I rasped. “It means being worshiped.”
"Wrexxon—" My name on her lips was half prayer, half plea.
"Tell me to stop and I will," I promised, my hands gentle even as desire threatened to overwhelm control.
Her hand slid from my face to my shoulder, her grip tightening as she pulled me closer instead of pushing me away. Her legs shifted restlessly, her body answering what her voice couldn't quite say. Her hands were in my hair, on my shoulders, gripping me like she was afraid I'd disappear. Her body arched into mine, every curve fitting against me like she'd been made for this, for me.
“Give yourself to me,” I growled against her lips. "Let me mark you and claim you and show you exactly what it means to be a Vandar Raisa. My Raisa."
"Yes," she whispered, and that one word shattered the last of my control.
I tore at her dress, breathless and desperate to make her mine in every way.
"Don't stop," she breathed, her legs curling around my waist, pulling me closer. "Please, Wrexxon. Don't stop."
I might not be the hero she’d envisioned for herself, but I would happily be the villain who took her, anyway.
Chapter 35
Jasmine
Isank up to my chin in the crimson water and let out a moan, folding my arms on the stone ledge as the steaming water uncoiled my muscles. Then the water sloshed around me and Wrexxon cocooned his large body around mine from behind.
He kissed my neck, pressing closer to me as the thick bar of his cock nudged my ass. “You aren’t tired of me already, are you?”
I might be a bit sore from going two rounds in bed, but I was far from tired of him, even if a part of me hated to admit how much I craved his touch. “Not yet.”
He slid his wet his hands so that they cupped my breasts, as he nipped my neck and sent shivers down my spine. “I know we should get some sleep, but I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”
Even though his caresses made my legs weak and a rush of heat pulse between my legs, I twisted my head so I could meet his eyes. “I might be changing my mind about you not being a monster.”
He growled, and pleasure skittered across my skin. “I thought I was a brute.”
“You are.” I dropped my head back to rest on his shoulder. “But I guess you’re my brute.”
“I am yours,” he husked, “and you are mine.”
The tip of his furry tail stroked between my legs before parting them. I arched back into him as the tip of his tail circled my clit, a laugh escaping my lips even as my body hummed with desire.
“Your Raisa?” I asked, tentative, even though I knew the title was mine.
