“I’m not sleeping with you.” I smirk at the thought of Kelter on the floor. “And Kelt would be pissed. He’s slept in this bed dozens of times.”
Disgust unfolds across his features. “There’s no way you’re sharing with Kelter. If he kisses you when you’re half a foot away from me, what would he try in bed?”
Nothing, actually.“What do you care?”
His endless eyes are the only thing I see. The taste of blood overwhelms my tongue, but a soft breeze hits at the same time, his light and dark sides mixing, turning gray. “I don’t.”
Right. As I thought. But it still hurts.
“But you’remyprisoner.” His shoulders lift with each bitter breath. “No one will have you but me.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. Maybe I can hide the flood of feelings building up, but before I get the chance, they slam into a protective dam and retreat, never hitting their target—my heart.
“You can’t even put your hands on me.” The number of tiny touches that often go unnoticed are glaringly obvious when they’re forbidden. I shouldn’t want them, but I do.
He strides across the room until his chest is in my face, then tucks his hands away in his pockets with a seam-ripping force, as if physical restraint is required to keep them off me. “Eyes up here.”
I bend my neck back until I have a clear view of his stubble. His eyes tack onto mine. “I’m not your prisoner anymore,” I whisper, the argument no longer sounding as convincing as it did in my head.
He levels his face with mine, his lips hovering over my mouth. Steamy breath passes between us in tension-thick puffs. “If you need cuffs and chains to remember who you belong to, I won’t object, but a little gut-wrenching pain won’t keep me from touching you.”
It doesn’t help that I actually want his hands all over me. My lower lips swell and moisten, a steady pulse creating waves of pleasure. I curl my toes.How hard is it to stay mad at this man? Genuinely I-don’t-want-to-fuck-you pissed?
Impossible.
Because I would have done the same if I were him… planned an abduction, lied, killed maybe. I’d do anything to rid my mind of these visions. At least I don’t have thousands of ancestors throwing thoughts around my head all day.
He draws in air through his nose, then his low chuckle hits my face. “But I clearly don’t even have to touch you to make you soak those panties. You can hand them over to me later.”
It could be the thought of what he’ll do with my wet underwear in my room tonight while everyone sleeps, or the grin that reaches his eyes with slight crinkles, or it could be the rising rebel in me, itching to make him eat his words, but I don’t care which spurs the moment—I grab his ears.
He grunts and staggers back, tripping on the edge of the mattress and landing on his ass with a laugh. “Fucking magic.”
Magic.“Hold on. Why does it still happen in Caldera? This was my mother’s gift.”
“It’s not a gift now that it’s in you. It’s something deeper. I don’t know why or how, but you break every damn rule of nature.”
I hold my stomach and look straight at him as the quiet words leave me. “I don’t want it.”
“You need to learn to control it.”
“Why? You still haven’t learned to control your cock.” I roll my eyes toward the bulge in his pants.
He straightens his back and shoulders. “I’m not going to hide that I want to fuck you.”
“You wouldn’t make it an inch inside me without cowering in pain.”
He takes off toward me without warning. I shouldn’t be running when I’m the one who can hurt him, but something about the glinty, blown-up black of his eyes has me on the move.
But the room is so small. I dart back and forth, indecision wasting a precious half second, then leap to the side and sprint past the door, jumping over the broken glass and hugging the wall. He steers the same direction, following me around another corner. His legs are so damn long, but I’m fast and nimble in this tiny space. I barely slip past him with a laughing squeal as I look over my shoulder.
His hand shoves off the wall behind me, a mere step away. I dive forward, only to find myself captured midair, his arm slung around my middle. He swivels, flinging me around and dropping me onto the bed with a roar of pain. The springs screech under the assault.
I clamber off the bed, only making it as far as the next wall. The man stands over me, looking down at his catch, still hard, painfully so judging by the lust-laced grimace on his face. I’m trapped. And turned on. Dammit. I scoot backward and tuck myself into the corner.
He crouches in front of me.
“What?” I hide my arousal with a scowl so hard it hurts my forehead.
