He hummed, fisting the railing as he stumbled up the stairs, turned a sharp corner, and clipped the door frame with the edge of his shoulder.
“Come’ere,” he slurred, flicking his fingers before my face. Grinning when my wrists and throat burned at his command—a dim glow lighting the gloom—he entered his private bath and kept me close. Even when he flipped the latch on his belt, shimmied where I couldn’t see, and emptied his bladder.
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” I drawled, cheeks flushed, scandalized, but unable to tear my attention from so intimate an experience.
A sinister gleam entered his gaze as inky eyes slid over his shoulder, but without a word, he reached for the tap at the sink and flipped it on. “Drink,” he said, and shook himself off.
All but dunking my head, I obeyed. Gulping at the flood of cold water with a moan of purest bliss.
Rough hands traced the length of my spine, he took advantage. My position an invitation I hadn’t meant to issue. “Iwouldget the only priestess in the world who’s untrained,” he murmured, pressing a raspy kiss to the ring of bruises he’d left on my shoulder.
I shivered, hands shooting out to brace, but I slipped against the porcelain. Arching my back as he pressed against me, I hummed, flush with Carina’s toxic, spinning energy. Brave and confidant, despite the predator draped over my back. “Poor, pitiable Asher,” I cooed, and clenched when I felt him grow thick with interest. “What a tragedy for you. Such hardship.”
A grin whispered at my nape—I felt it twitch. “Mmhmm,” he purred, and let his pants drop to the floor. “And growing harder by the moment.”
“Go bother your intended wife,” I returned, knocking a jar to the floor when my head spun. The world tilting off its axis in such a way that left me clinging to the sink. Inhibitions washed away by the sloppy rush of intoxication I’d pulled from Carina’s body into mine.
He tugged at the ties keeping my dress in place. “Would you like that? Watching me bed another woman?” Shifting my hair to one side, he hauled me upright. Spun, and watched with a wicked glimmer as my dress fell, pooling in a puddle at my feet. As I was exposed. My nipples already pebbled. “Or,” he murmured, and sucked a breath between his teeth, “maybe you’re jealous?”
I laughed through a sneer, cupping my breasts in a delayed attempt to hide from that wicked gaze. Said nothing in response to such a ludicrous sentiment.
“So,” he said, and stepped into the narrow shower stall at his back, dragging me in with him. “What devious little plan have you and Sasha cooked up, hmm?”
“And what makes you think—”
“I may be drunk,” he drawled, and turned the tap without so much as a backward glance. “But I’m not stupid. And you know”—a spray of cold water struck his back, making him shudder as he took the brunt of the icy blast—“I’m almost eager for the challenge. I prefer a little more…fightin my pets.”
Recognizing the devious glimmer in those glassy eyes, I raised both hands and issued a warning. “Don’t you dare—”
He tipped to the side.
I screeched, coughing as glacial water washed over my face, my chest and belly. It warmed before I could muster simple speech, but still, I trembled. Cringing back in a vain attempt to evade the frigid water. Spine pressed to the tiled wall, hands cupping my nudity as I pranced in place. “You sadistic bastard!” I hissed, scowling and dripping.
Unrepentant, the captain licked his lips and produced a bar of soap, working it into a quick lather against his chest. The suds trickling over the bumps and ridges, the pebbled flesh that rippled over his chest. A lure meant to draw my eye…lower.
Without a word, he pressed the soap into my hands. Head tipped back as he washed, he watched me from beneath hooded eyes, but didn’t touch.
It was his influence that surged through my blood, doing his bidding, exactly as he’d promised he could. Full control with an errant thought.
And yet, he did not seem to notice the shield. He moved around it as I was made to mimic his actions. Whipping the suds into a froth, scrubbing away the day’s stress—the morning’s stains.
I swallowed. Blinking and disoriented, latching onto the one thing that might lead to another small victory. That he hadn’t thought to plunge inside me with dark flames that could see what others could not. Taking advantage with his senses, to learn and touch with the gifts of a priestess, for he was an elite, first. A man who thought in terms of offense and force, to whom the idea of stealthy subversion was a chore.
Breath catching, I reached instead for the unsteady verve Carina had donated.
Embraced it for what it was.
The energy of a seductress.
My fingers plucked at beaded nipples, cupping and lifting all that grew heavy beneath that obsidian stare.
Pushing lower, the captain seized his cock at the root. Squeezing as he washed, he pumped that turgid flesh without a hint of shame. Knuckles going white when I was made to do the same—my veins singing with molten gold—he grunted. A breath puffed where it hissed through clenched teeth.
I panted, reckless, holding eye contact. Unable to speak as he gave himself a show.
“Show me,” he breathed, and picked up a heavy rhythm. The muscles in his forearm coiled beneath the strain, his chest flexing as he moved over his length with smooth confidence. And then, with his free hand, the captain reached for the sack hanging between his legs. Tugging, massaging at that heavy purse as his wrist twisted around the knob of flesh glaring at me with an angry, reddened tip.
I shivered—and slipped one soapy finger inside. Showing him exactly what he wanted to see. Hands moving at his whim.
