At that, it appeared Luce had ceased to breathe altogether. Her eyes flared, yet not a lash fluttered. The only motion that caught Emillie’s eye was the subtle parting of her lips. Tension wavered between them. Even the air went still as they stared at one another.
“I am probably completely wrong,” Emillie said after several aching heartbeats of this. She stood and started for the door. This was a mistake. She should never have assumed something so foolish. Perhaps if she left now, she could salvage their flimsy friendship. Without looking back, she continued to mumble, “I am so sorry. I misunderstood. I—”
A hand closed around her wrist, dragging her to a halt just as she reached the door. Heart launching into her throat, Emillie froze.
“It’s not that,” Luce said, her voice softer than Emillie had ever heard it. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s nothing I’ve felt before.”
Swallowing hard, she turned slowly. That familiar hunger burned in Luce’s gaze, sending a wave of heat through Emillie akin to nothing she had ever before experienced. It burned in her core, causing her to press her thighs together at the sudden ache there. In response, Luce inhaled long and slow, that fire burning hotter.
“Luce…” Gods, her voice was husky.
The lycan shook her head slowly, never shifting her attention. “I should hate everything you are—everything you represent.”
“Why are you saying—”
“But I can’t.” Luce pulled her, not ungently, bringing Emillie closer. She swept a strand of her hair back from her face, fingertips sliding along her skin and leaving a burning path in their wake.
At a loss for words, Emillie merely gaped up at her.
The lycan’s eyes snapped to her mouth, pupils expanding. “Vampires are hideous, wicked creatures. You’re abominations. A mage curse gone awry. None of you were meant to survive.”
Though the words were horrible, the pain and confusion dripping from each syllable had Emillie waiting with bated breath. Each inhale had her silently begging for more. Something. Anything.
“When I first saw you,” Luce hissed, sliding another step closer, “I never wanted to sink my teeth into someone more. I wanted to tear into you and savor every drop as you swept into my veins. Into mysoul.”
What was Emillie supposed to say to this? They stood now a mere breath from one another, her head tilted back to stare into those golden pools, her heart throbbing as hard as her sex.
“I hate…you,” Luce breathed. She tightened her grip on Emillie’s wrist and let her head drift to the side, her attention flitting from one place to the next on her face. “I hate—”
Emillie slammed her mouth to Luce’s, cutting off the lycan’s words and satisfying the building inferno deep inside her. She sent a silent prayer to Keon and Silve that she had not made a massive error.
Yet after a moment of hesitation, Luce responded in kind.
Holding Emillie’s wrist tight, the lycan forced her to retreat until her back connected with the door she had just been about to open. Luce lifted the arm she gripped above Emillie’s head and pinned it to the wood while deepening the kiss. Tongues tangled and teeth clashed as they all but devoured one another. In a blind search, Luce found Emillie’s other arm and yanked it up high to hold it alongside the first before pinning her body with her own.
There was something about the release of control as Luce held her there that Emillie found herself enjoying more than she ever thought possible.
“Tell me you want this,” Luce breathed, kissing across Emillie’s jaw to nip at her earlobe. “Tell me you need me as much as I need you.”
Words abandoned her. Gods, Emillie had thought of this moment for weeks, and finally…finally it was happening. Rather than respond, she nodded, pressing her body back against Luce in invitation.
“Say it.” This time, the words were a command. Luce dragged her tongue up Emillie’s neck and adjusted her grip on her wrists to hold both arms in place with one hand. The free hand ran down Emillie’s side, pausing at her hip to scrunch the skirt of her dress into her fist. “Say you want me to fuck you.”
“I do,” Emillie whimpered. “Fuck me, Luce.”
The responding growl was pure wolf. She dragged her teeth along the crook of Emillie’s throat and yanked the dress higher, exposing her thighs. “I am not gentle.”
A warning or a promise?
Emillie shook her head. “I want it all. I wantyou.”
“If you want to stop, you just have to say so.”
“Never.”
Luce groaned. “Fuck, Em… You have no idea what you just agreed to.”
The memory of Siobhan strung up in Alek’s bedroom flashed through Emillie’s mind. Blood had dripped from the Rusan’s arms, and somehow, she found pleasure in the pain—welcomed it, even, from the Lord Governor of Waer.
