For a moment, I wonder if that’s what he’s sorry for.
But then he unthreads his arm from around my waist. My eyes flash open but I’m staring at the high, gilded ceiling above us. I hear a metallic sound and try to push away with my grip on his hard, solid arms.
But he doesn’t let me move.
And a second later, there is a bright, slashing pain along my bare thigh, something cold and silvery on my skin.
My legs start to tremble around him. He moves his fingers from my jaw to slide back into my hair, pulling strands from the braid as he forces my head down so I’m no longer staring at the ceiling. My eyes lift to his.
He presses his temple to mine, his nose lined up with my own as he drops something to the carpet with a smallplink.His gloved hand circles around my thigh, pressing on the wound he made.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, his breath on my mouth. He doesn’t sound sorry, though. He sounds cold and detached. Strange. His fingers tighten in my hair, along my scalp. He pulls several strands, twisting them and tugging, making me wince as I stare at him, a heavy weight of exhaustion starting to blanket me. His hand shifts up my thigh and I can no longer keep my legs around his waist.
They fall, dangling from the windowsill, his fingers sliding under my shorts.
“So very sorry, Karia,” he whispers in my mouth, his breath light, delicious even, like toothpaste. “But this time,” he tilts his head, lips brushing mine, fingers dancing over my upper thigh. “I promise I’ll give you everything you asked for.”
I feel strange, like I’m drunk. A little dizzy, a lot tired, but my eyes don’t close, and it isn’t like when he put a needle in my belly. My hands are still on his arms and I marvel over howsolidhe is. The thought makes a smile form on my lips, one I don’t remember wanting to put there.
I look up at him through hazy eyes, his handsome face so close to mine. “I feel weird,” I tell him, and my tongue is heavy but the words come out clear.
He nudges his nose to mine. “Oh?” he asks, and there’s something teasing in his question.
“What did you do to me?” The pain along my skin. It’s faded now, but he… did something. I think of Cosmo. The chain around Sullen’s neck. The scrape on his face. I can put it all together, but what I can’t figure out is how he would have gotten the scalpel or needle or miniature knife back from his father.
“Nothing yet,” he says quietly, once more brushing his nose along my own. “But I will soon.”
I laugh a little, because he means to threaten me. But good times don’t require warnings. “Hmm,” I say, holding his gaze as the room seems to darken around us. “Do you promise to touch me?”
He slides his hand higher up my thigh and I widen my legs as much as I can, giving him more access. A startled breath leaves his lips and I know he’s always discounted my begging, but maybe now he’ll see.
“I am touching you, Little Sun,” he rasps, but some of the cockiness from his voice is gone.
I can rise up to meet you. You don’t frighten me.
“Do you promise to kiss me?” I ask as he squeezes my inner thigh. His body is in the way of touching more, but he doesn’t want to move, I can tell.
He drags his lips over my jawline and I lift my head up, letting him suck on my neck again. Then he follows the same path, facing me once more.
“I am kissing you,” he says, and I don’t clarify that I mean on my lips.
He knows that.
“Do you promise tofuck me,Sullen?” I ask instead.
He slides his hand to the back of my neck, gripping me tightly, the leather cool on my skin.
He drives me back by leaning in closer, my neck crunching from the angle of my skull against the window.
Then he turns his head until his lips are at my ear and he says, “Even if you’re unconscious…” He bites my earlobe, sending sparks under my skin. “Ipromise,I won’t stop.”
Chapter 19
Karia
My hands feel jittery, a tremble crawling up my wrists as I hold onto his arms, his tongue along my throat now.
I let my eyes fall closed, my chest heaving so fast, it’s hard to catch my breath. He grabs my thigh, lifting it up and pinning my knee to his side. I try to engage my muscles and keep it there, but it’s like I’ve lost my control. It doesn’t seem to matter anyway; he doesn’t let go.
