“Your brother suggested you talk to me?”
I grunt. “He said I should ask questions and listen to answers.”
“That’s... actually good advice.”
“But I do not know what questions to ask.”
She studies my face for a long moment. “Maybe start with something you actually want to know about me.”
I consider this carefully. What do I want to know? Everything, but I cannot form that into a proper question.
“Why do you clean the walls?” I finally ask.
“Because they’re dirty, and I don’t like living in filth.”
“But you are a consort. Consorts do not do such work.”
“Says who?”
“Says...” I pause. “Says Creator-Father.”
“And where is he now?”
I bare my teeth. “Dead. I killed him.”
She goes very still. “Oh.”
Another silence.
“This talking is more difficult than fighting,” I grumble. She remains pointedly silent, moving her hands from her hips to cross her arms stubbornly over her chest. This hides her teats from me, and those two points of color are still high on her cheeks. My cock refills and comes back to life.
“Fine,” I growl. “We will not talk.” I stride toward her. “I will make every part of your body hungry for my every twitch until you obey me.”
“How can you be so full of yourself?” She throws her hands in the air even as she backs warily away from me.
I grin. I like this dance. “Soonyouwill be full of me. So you can tell me what it feels like.”
NINETEEN
HANNAH
My mouth dropsopen at his audacity. “Did you really just say that to me?”
I want to slap him for his insolence. Instead, I do something better.
I snatch up the bucket of wash water at my feet and toss it straight at him.
The water splashes across his chest and shoulders, soaking into his thick fur. He freezes, staring down at himself, dripping.
“You’re filthy,” I snap, though my bottom lip trembles with equal parts fury and… something else.
He shakes his head, muttering, “Strange creatures.” Then, unbelievably, he turns and stalks back out the door, heavy steps echoing down the hall.
I stand there, clutching the empty bucket, panting. Did I actually just?—?
When he returns, his mane and fur are still damp, the faint scent of cold lake clinging to him. Cleaner. Wilder. More devastatingly male.
And somehow, that only makes things worse for me. Because the moment his lion’s eyes land on me again, glowing with hunger, my stomach swoops and the treacherous tingling returns between my thighs.
