“You want to come, Temptress?”
It wasn’t a question. It was a taunt, a challenge.
“Beg me for it. Give in to me.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. The silence between us was charged, electric.
“Please.”
The bond pulsed to life, his satisfaction at my submission flooding through, mingling with my arousal to the point of pain. Tears pricked my eyes, and the pressure of his fingers at my nape sent shivers cascading down my body.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The chanting was so loud now that it blocked out all other sounds, all reason.
Ryker thrust into me, his rhythm punishing. I felt him swell inside me, stretching me to my limits. My pussy clenched around him as pleasure built low in my stomach. Each thrust drove me closer to the edge.
When I came undone, it was with his name falling from my lips like a prayer. Ryker’s movements became jerky, more erratic, more desperate. The pulsing waves of my orgasm triggered something primal in him.
His fingers dug into my hips as he chased his own release; the sound of skin against skin sang out all around us. He drove himself into me with a ferocity that bordered on violent. The sounds that tore from his throat were more beast than man.
I felt him spill inside me, hot and claiming, marking me in the most primitive way possible. His body went rigid above mine, muscles locked as he emptied himself.
A guttural groan vibrated through his chest, sending aftershocks rippling through my oversensitive body. The bond flared between us, our pleasure intertwining until I couldn’t tell where his ended and mine began.
For several heartbeats, we lay there in the dirt, his weight pinning me down as we both struggled to breathe. The open field was eerily quiet, as though nature itself was holding its breath in the aftermath of our violence, waiting to see who would draw next blood.
When Ryker pulled away, the loss of his warmth made me shiver. I stayed pressed against the ground, unwilling to face him, as confusion warred with satisfaction.
It would be so easy to give in to him. To let him claim me and care for me as he promised he would. But when the sweat cooled on my skin, his countless betrayals would remain.
He would still be the man who murdered my mother, and nothing could ever change that.
The rustling of fabric drew my attention, and I watched in silence as Ryker tugged my pants back into place. When he was done with his own clothing, he lifted me from the ground, pressing me against his chest.
I inhaled his familiar scent, letting it wash over me and calm my racing mind.
“Come, Temptress, let’s get you home.”
The soft press of his lips against my forehead was too much to resist. I let myself embrace the moment, just this once, as he stepped into the shadows.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cadence
Eamon’s gaze kept darting around the bustling marketplace, assessing the young boy carting melons back and forth to his father’s fruit stand, to the older woman kneading dough as the scent of warmly baked bread teased my senses.
“Why the sudden urgency to consult the gods, Cadence?” he asked, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “You don’t strike me as one of the faithful.”
Truth be told, I wasn’t. However, Melania’s source had agreed to meet me at the temple in the lower village, and I was not about to miss the opportunity to save my brother from his own stubbornness.
But I could hardly tell Eamon that.
“The more time I spend with Ryker, the stronger the urge to cleanse my soul,” I said instead.
He let out a harsh laugh, and the young boy jumped, dropping his melon. I rushed forward, scooping up the fruit and setting it on the display.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment.
