The smile he offers me isn’t arrogant. Not like Aidon’s or Jestin’s. He smiles as if he’s relieved I find him attractive. That gentleness clashes with the tattoos and the air of savagery around him.
I feel all tingly when his lips curve on one side, a single brow raises. I swallow, ready to be served as an offering to the Deity. Yet, before I throw myself at him, I make the mistake of glancing down. The view gets only better.
His warrior muscles… Let’s say I will lick every hard bulge.
“May I?” He asks with perfect etiquette, putting his left leg forward and right hand on his chest.
I can only nod; evidently, the cat got my tongue. Avoiding threats to my heart was never my strength, especially under the influence.
Refusing isn’t an option.
He offers me his insane, masculine hand, but instead of grabbing it right away, I lift my hand, and the servant appears with more wine.
I down the liquid, again.
He chuckles, but doesn’t take a shot himself. A flicker of self-consciousness hits me, but the familiar rush of wine clouds it instantly. His hands settle on my waist, pulling me to him with a possessive ease that makes my pulse quicken.
We sway together, bodies perfectly aligned, every subtle movement synced as if we have done this a thousand times before. Nothing else exists, no music, no garden, just the warmth of him, the magnetic pull of his presence. I whimper as he draws me even closer, and it feels like we share something older than us, something written in the stars. I swear Gorok himself placed him on my path, a living emblem of fate I cannot resist.
I don’t know how long we stay like that before another male steals me away. I dance with the intruder for a brief moment, desperately wanting to return to the Deity, but when I turn back, he isn’t there.
The sudden emptiness hits me like a physical blow and my chest tightens with an ache that spreads to my very soul. The warmth, the magnetic pull, the connection we shared, it is goneand I cannot fill the void. Not wanting to dance with anyone else, not wanting anyone else’s touch, I slip away from the dancefloor, my movements hollow, each step heavy with the absence of that Dragthrall.
I head to the veranda and see the deck chair where Jestin had been surrounded by the brothel workers now stands empty. His eyes find me, solemn and unblinking, studying me in a way that makes my skin prickle.
I flash him a grin and his brow lifts. His gaze pins me, intense and calculating. “I saw you met your tutor.”
“That’s an interesting development,” I say with a smile. I shall certainly reconsider my statement about needing tutoring.
Excited I will be seeing the stranger again, I hop onto the edge of Jestin’s deck chair.
“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning I cannot place, certainly not now when my brain is hazed by the wine.
“Not the way you are, apparently,” I tease, commenting on his previous activities with the sex worker.
“Shh,” he murmurs, pursing his lips before offering me his rare dimpled smile. He looks sublime, with his messy hair and chest on display.
“I can fix it,” he purrs, lazily rising to his feet. “I know exactly what to do with you.”
He apprises my flushed cheeks and the dazed expression. “Are you sure you’re sober enough to consent?”
“How dare you assume I don’t know my own mind? Believe me, Jestin, from all the things you can worry about me consenting to, pleasure is not on the list. In fact, I am painfully sober.” I snatch a glass from the nearby table and gulp the liquid in one go.
His jaw ticks. “I don’t want you to have regrets in the morning. Again.”
“I was afraid of my feelings, not your magic penis.” The rush of oblivion clouds my mind, cleaning the rage away. “Do you want me to beg you to make that night better?”
His laugh grinds on my pussy like a two-day stubble. “I don’t mind a little begging.”
In answer, I open my thighs.
“Lean back,” he orders.
A shiver goes through my spine. I love his dominant side. Not many are brave enough to command me, but it’s his court; he’s used to giving orders. He doesn’t even second-guess it, especially since it is not our first time.
I comply, and he nods.
“I suppose we’re past the point of just being friends,” I mutter, no fucking idea why.
