A soft, broken sound escapes me beforeIcan stop it.Ipress a hand to my mouth, glancing quickly around the room.Noone seems to notice.Orif they do, they pretend not to.
I lie back on the cot, staring up at the ceiling, willing my body to calm down…it doesn’t.Ifanything, the stillness makes it worse.
I can almost feel him again—the warmth of him, the strength in his hands, the careful way he held himself back for my sake.Hiswarm, spicy, masculine scent and the way he called me “good girl.”Thememory burns through me, feeding the ache instead of easing it.
I turn onto my side, curling in on myself.IwishIcould go to him–to ask him to help me again, butIknowIcan’t.
IfIsee him again…ifIstand in front of him like this, feeling like this—Iwon’t be able to stop myself.Iwon’t be able to ask him to help me the way he did before.
I’ll beg him for more–foreverything.Andthis time…Idon’t thinkIwould want him to stop.I’dbeg him to fill me…to fuck me and shoot his seed deep in my pussy.
The realization sends a shudder through me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers tangling in the thin blanket beneath me.
No,Idefinitely can’t go to him.Ican’t–Idon't trust myself.I’lljust have to grit my teeth and bear it.
I don’t know howI’mgoing to survive.
17
THERON
I can’t stop thinking about her.
It’s been days now, andIcan’t get the curvy little priestess out of my head.EverytimeItry to focus on something else, she slips back in.Thelook in her eyes…the sound of her moans when she was coming so hard for me…the way her body trembled when she stood in front of me, begging for something she clearly didn’t want but needed so badly…
Fuck.
I drag a hand over my face and stare down at the half-finished blade on my workbench, the metal cooling too fast becauseIhaven’t kept the heat steady.Theforge crackles beside me, throwing off waves of heat, but it doesn’t matter.Myconcentration is shot…again.
This is the third timeI’veruined a piece today.
I mutter a curse under my breath and set the hammer down harder thanImean to.Theclang echoes through the smithy, sharp and hollow, and for a momentIjust stand there, staring at nothing.
Why can’tIstop thinking of her?Thecurvy little priestess with the wide blue eyes and the soft voice that didn’t match what she was asking for…what she was begging for.
I clench my jaw.I’veheard what happened to the others–the priestesses who gave in to the curse.Hardnot to–the whole damn town’s been talking about it.Abunch of young priestesses, all begging for the roughest males they can find to take them and coming back ruined.Belliesswelling, eyes changed, cast out of their precious temple and sent off to some halfway house for unwed mothers.
Then the whole lot of them giving birth to half-breed children.
They’ll never be able to go home again–Faesociety doesn’t allow half-breeds.Especiallywhen the half-breeds have any kind of animal in them.
Of course the males who got them that way don't care.Whywould they?Aquick fuck, a warm body, and then they move on.Noresponsibility.Noconsequences.
It makes something dark twist in my gut.I’mgladIdidn’t do that to her–Gods,I’mfucking gladIdidn’t take her like she begged me to.
But knowing she escaped that fate doesn’t stop the ache whenIthink of her.Ifanything, it makes it worse.
Because nowIknow what she feels like in my hands.Iknow the sound she makes when she’s coming.Iknow how soft she is, how warm?—
“Mine.”
The word cuts through my thoughts, low and insistent.
I freeze as myDrakestirs under my skin, restless and sharp, pressing against the edges of me like he wants out.He’sbeen like this since our time withElowen—more active, more aware.More…focused.
Onher.
