She fucking glows.
Not metaphorically. Actually glows. Gold light radiates from her skin like she's swallowed the sun. Her hair seems lighter, her eyes brighter. She looks like something divine—an angel who just ate nightmares for breakfast.
Our magic did this. Our bond. Nightmare inside her, feeding on darkness, converting it to light.
She's magnificent.
I stare at her, and an embarrassed smile graces her lips. “Did I do okay?”
“Okay?” The word gets strangled in my mouth. “You did more than okay. But you were reckless and careless and I told you to stop and then you didn’t, and what is wrong with you?”
Chelsea blinks. Then she licks her lips.
That’s my breaking point.
In one fluid motion I take her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her.
Last time I kissed her, I was bleeding out. Desperate. Claiming her because I thought I might die.
This time I'm kissing her because she's alive. Powerful. Mine.
And I'm never letting her go.
Chelsea
Eryx’s lips are hot as he kisses me. It’s unexpected, and my body goes completely rigid. But only for a moment.
Then I melt.
I wind my arms around his neck and tug on his silky strands of dark hair.
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him, his body pressed against mine.
And all the while he kisses me—slowly, passionately, like he’s tasting me for the first time and wants to savor me.
And I want to savor him.
There’s something about eating nightmares that has made me hungry—for Eryx.
My chest expands as the kiss deepens and his hands slowly work up my arms to my face. He pulls back, breaking off the kiss.
When he looks at me, his crystal-blue eyes are full of warmth. His lower lip trembles as he murmurs, “You should have stopped when I told you to.”
I lift my brow. “And that kiss was my punishment?”
He smirks. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
I search his face, trying to decide if I should say my next words. My teeth scrape over my bottom lip, and his gaze flicks down to watch.
His pupils go wide.
“I want it all,” I tell him.
His eyes dart back up to mine and he stiffens. “Chelsea…”
It’s a warning. Eryx telling me not to want him, to be afraid of him. To listen to the scary stories told about the nightmare king.
I take his hand that’s cradling one side of my face, and I place it on my breast.
