“I think we need to establish some ground rules,” I say quickly. “Starting with clothes? Maybe we could grab that bed comforter if there’s nothing else available?”
He pauses and studies me, the chain relaxed in his massive hands. “What areground rules?”
I blink. Right. Medieval monster. Different cultural expectations.
Before I can explain, he’s moving again, the decorative links chiming musically against the ancient stone as we continue forward. I hurry to keep up before the collar can tug.
“Well,” I explain breathlessly, “ground rules are helpful between two people. Especially two people from very different... backgrounds, like us. It’s about personal space and mutual respect. Sometimes I’ll need alone time to process things.”
His magnificent wings rustle, and several enormous black feathers drift to the floor like dark snow. I noticed them scattered throughout the bedroom earlier, too. Normal guys shed hair in the shower; apparently, he molts.
Then he whirls to face me, those incredible wings flaring to their full span, easily thirty feet of glossy black feathers that catch the light like oil on water. The sight is breathtaking and terrifying simultaneously.
He grasps the chain close to my throat, drawing me forward until we’re almost nose to nose.
And he gives me that spine-tingling smile again.
Except now it’s mere inches away.
“There is no per-son-al space. Or a-lone time.” He pronounces the words like foreign concepts he’s testing out. “You are my consort. Your time belongs to me.” He pulls me closer until my nose nearly touches his cool, leonine features. Those liquid amber eyes blink in that distinctly feline way as he stares straight into my soul. “Your space is my space. Your body, my body.”
I nod quickly, heart hammering... and something else I refuse to acknowledge. But nothing gets past that supernatural nose of his.
He pauses, nostrils flaring, then grips me under the arms and lifts me clean off the ground until my?—
“Hey!” I shriek, batting at his face as he brings me to eye level for a thorough... inspection of my most intimate areas.
He grins up at me with obvious satisfaction. “My consort is not truly opposed to these arrangements. Your body tells me truths your mouth will not.”
I’m freezing and frustrated, and I can’t believe my traitorous anatomy is betraying me like this. Just because my body happens to remember how incredible last night felt has absolutely nothing to do with how annoyed I am about being collared and led around like?—
I kick out with these surprisingly strong new legs, putting real force behind the motion.
But he’s already lowering me gently, setting my feet back on the frigid stone with careful hands.
“Time for that soon,” he says, head tilting in that predatory way. “First, sustenance.”
I’m about to inform him that no, first we finish discussing boundaries and per-son-al space, and then we find me some clothes because not all of us can regulate temperature with a built-in fur coat?—
But my stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly.Dammit.WhendidI last eat?
By that point, he’s already guiding me toward the enormous table.
He gestures down to where a small velvet cushion rests beside the imposing chair at the table’s head. The meal before his seat smells incredible, the freshly prepared meat still steaming. I look around for my place setting.
“On your knees. No food unless you assume the proper consort position.”
My mouth falls open, and I’m sure my eyes blaze as I stare up at his massive form. We’ve been in morning light for about thirty minutes now, and honestly? After the initial shock of his sheer size has started wearing off, I find that he’s not exactly terrifying anymore.
Yes, it’s still somewhat startling to see a human-shaped man with leonine features—that short golden fur covering his face except for those impressively bushy eyebrows. Those curved black horns are definitely attention-grabbing, and those unnerving cat eyes. Not to mention the dark feline nose and that fascinating split lip I remember all too well from last night...
As if reading my thoughts, he extends that impossibly long tongue and slowly licks those same lips.
I step back, hands on my hips in my best power stance. “Why the hell did you give me functional legs if you’re just going to order me to my knees constantly?”
That wicked mouth curves into a devastating grin. “You kneel only when I command it. I am the one who granted you strong legs, and I could reclaim them. So you bow to me when I decree it appropriate.”
His answer only fuels my irritation.
