“Because he can.” Domanikk’s jaw tightens. “Stay around him long enough and you’ll understand. I need to keep you away from him as much as I can. Something’s going on, and he won’t open up to me.”
I sit up, wincing as my body aches in protest. Between being blacked out for hours and the abuse my body has taken while here, I’m surprised it’s still functioning.
“Did you speak to him?”
“He left with Ceira straight after and ignored me when I called after him. I’ve been here with you since.”
“Playing nursemaid?” I grin at him.
“I’d look delightful in just a frilly apron.” He laughs, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.
A memory surfaces—a time when I played healer to Kiernan after his father beat him. The first time we gave in to our passions. The first time I got to feel his smooth skin below my palms, when he sank to his knees and showed me what I had been missing.
Something in my expression must shift, because Domanikk’s gaze softens.
“What’s in that pretty little head, my love?”
My love.
Oh Gods, those feelings I had for Domanikk yesterday at the pond flood over me, heat rising to my face, mixing with painful guilt until my head spins with emotions.
“Just thinking of my life at the castle,” I reply.
“Do you miss it?”
“Some of it,” I admit. “I miss visiting the Western Pasture and … Heller.”
Another stab of guilt. I haven’t thought of him since that day I watched him die.
“The kid Reth killed? Your boyfriend?”
“He wasn’t a boyfriend. He was the only friend I had.” The words come out sharper than I intend.
Domanikk lowers himself next to me.
“Sorry, Alaya,” he says, pulling the blanket off. The air chills me after the warmth of my cocoon.
He leans over and kisses me so gently, a mere caress of his lips upon mine. No pressure to meet his desire.
But I do—my hand cups his face and I kiss him back.
He grins. “You need to relax. We are going to play my favourite game.”
He kisses down to my breasts, his hands roaming to play with my nipples on the way, hardening them at his touch. His kisses on my belly have me writhing, his lips tickling.
His mouth and hands explore me, my skin tingling under his touch. When his face comes back to mine, the heat has already started to rise within me. I let out a small laugh, soft and involuntary. Just the thought of him is enough to make my body yearn for him in ways I can’t fully control or understand. This feeling, this pull towards him—it has no logical reason to exist. And yet it does.
His hand slips between my thighs and pushes, spreading both my legs wide.
“I need you wide and waiting.” He grins. “I’m going to help you remember the good things in your life, one step at a time.”
His hand comes up between my legs and trace a finger along my lips, already slick.
“Every step, you are going to tell me one thing about your life there that made you happy.”
My brow furrows. His finger swirls my clit, and my breath catches—pleasure rising, but my mind still trying to piece together what he means.
“One.” He growls out, his finger sliding inside me, hooking back to touch that sensitive spot. I clench around it, the force sudden and sublime.
