An idea popped into my head. A devious one, though I would delight in testing just how far Kythel’s control stretched.
“Hello,” I greeted, giving him a small smile. I knew I was in trouble, judging by the disapproving scowl on his face, the small jump just underneath his jaw, and the way his icy eyes pinned me into place as he straightened to his full, imposing height. “How was your day?”
“It’s after nightfall,” he growled.
I looked pointedly toward the sky and beamed. “I see that.”
When he glared, I approached, placing my hands on his chest and going up onto my tiptoes to press my lips to his tight jaw. His chest rumbled beneath my palms. I pressed another kiss to his cheek, feeling its surprising softness against my lips. I sensed when his shoulders loosened. Just a little.
“I’m sorry,” I said. Wedidhave an agreement, after all—I was to return to the keep before nightfall. “I lost track of time. Forgive me?”
He didn’t mention that I’d lost track of time just two days ago too. We’d already had this argument before, and he likely knew that I’d find a creative way of distracting him. But perhaps it was a game he wanted to play, considering his glare never left his features.
I bit back my smile, licking my bottom lip instead.
“I’m going to wash up before we return to the keep,” I informed him, turning. “You can feed afterward, if you’d like.”
“Washatthe keep,” he ordered. “I have an export contract from Gharata that I need to review tonight.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” I said, looking at him over my shoulder as I retreated back into the cottage. The warmth from the fire made me smile, made nerves of excitement and glee spike in my belly. The stairs leading up to the washroom were in direct line of the front door. Leaving it open, I tugged up my loose, green tunic, a chill making its way across my exposed back and belly. I pulled it over my head, dropping it onto the floor behind me. The supportive band around my breasts joined it, my nipples pebbling tight.
From Kythel, I heard…loud silence. I grinned at the stairway, my fingers dropping to the laces of my trews, toeing off my boots before I began the ascent up. My pants were discarded on the top step, giving Kythel a flash of my bared backside before I rounded the corner and disappeared into the washroom.
My heart was thundering as I turned on the taps to the bathing tub manually. Down below, I heard the front door slam closed as I twirled up my hair into a loose bun on the top of my head, securing it with the pin I’d used earlier, tangled in the wild strands. It put the two bite marks on display, decorating the column of my neck. Kythel liked to see his mark on me. I quite liked it too. It made me feel like his. It madehimfeel like mine.
Kythel still hadn’t appeared by the time I sank down into the chilly water. I sucked in a sharp breath, though it did nothing to dispel the heat building between my thighs, a gentle throb that seemed commonplace these last weeks.
Then I heard it. Steady, heavy steps on stone, ascending the stairs. He paused on the landing, however, and I held my breath, wondering what he would do, what he was doubting. To distract myself, I scrubbed at a muddy patch on my arm and cleaned underneath my fingernails, shaking out the soap crystals from the jar next to the tub and lathering them in my palms, smoothing them over my body.
I was shivering when he appeared, looming in the doorway of the washroom, my tunic hanging from his clawed fingertip. He’d seen me naked before—the night of the storm when I’d showed up at his keep, when he’d rapidly stripped me of my soaked clothes and sunk me next to the blazing hearth.
This felt different, though. Kythel watched me, his blue eyes glued to my hand as it trailed over my slick skin. Above the line of the water, my breasts were bared, the pinkish brown of my nipples puckered tight in the chill.
I was no great seductress, not like the dancers I’d seen on Qapot’a or the high-paid escorts at the travel ports, and yet I didn’t feel shame as Kythel’s gaze swept over me. And when my hand trailed below the water and washed between my legs, when my fingers lingered against the heat of my sensitive folds, those eyes practicallyscorchedme. My tunic dropped to the ground. He stepped into the washroom that felt five times as small with him in it. His wings banged into the jar of soap as he crouched at the side of the tub, sending it scattering to the floor.
But neither of us flinched or moved. His eyes were stuck between my legs, watching my movements become gentler, more purposeful. My pussy clenched, my clit pulsing with excitement.
I didn’t know how to be more obvious with my invitation without resorting to begging.
Well, I could be a little more obvious,I thought, reaching for his hand, which he had draped over the lip of the tub.
He hissed in surprise at the icy water when I led his hand beneath it.
“Why doesn’t yourakkiumgenerator work?” he asked, voice thick. Disapproving.
I smiled, drawing his hand between my thighs. “I’ll have it repaired soon.”
He hissed again but for an entirely different reason, his thumb brushing the heat of my sex.
“Aren’tkyranassupposed to satisfy their mates?” I asked, the question tumbling out of me, though I never broke his gaze.
Disbelief flashed over his expression, but then it clouded with dark desire. It was a taboo thing, what I’d just done, wasn’t it? We’d never said those words before in this context—in reference tous.Kyrana. Ormate. It felt forbidden.
“Do I not?” he asked. A thrill pulsed through me when he didn’t protest, when he played along. “Do I not ensure your pleasure every time I feed?”
“You do,” I said, cheeks heating, thinking of the way he hummed every time I came with his fangs lodged in my neck. “But you aren’t giving me what I really want.This.”
He grunted, his eyes turning dangerous as he shifted forward, pressing over the tub to grab my jaw with his free hand. Hard. My breath whistled in my throat, molten desire flooded my veins. I loved when he was demanding, when he handled me a little roughly, like he knew I wouldn’t break but that instead I would bloom with his touch.
