Page 92 of His Eternal Claim

Elena lowers her head, sensing the suffocating shift in the room’s atmosphere.

“Do the rest in the morning,” I say, my voice cutting through the quiet.

“Yes, sir.” Elena bows quickly and exits, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind her, sealing us into the silence.

I take a single, heavy step toward Selene.

She jumps, clutching at the front of her flimsy red dress, trying to pull the low neckline higher. Her eyes finally lock onto mine.

“I… I will sleep on the couch,” she stammers, nodding toward the leather sofa near the fireplace.

“No,” I murmur as I close the distance between us until I am standing right over her. “You’re sleeping on that bed.”

“Undress,” I command softly.

She looks at me, her wide eyes reflecting the low, amber glow of the fire crackling in the hearth, searching for any sign of hesitation on my face. She finds none.

“Zagreus, please…” she whispers, her voice trembling as she takes a half-step back, her heels hitting the edge of the plush mattress.

“You came to my room, Dolcezza,” I remind her, my voice a low, gravelly rumble. I don’t move an inch closer, letting the sheer weight of my presence trap her against the bed. “You said you wanted to sleep where it’s warm. I don’t sleep with clothes on, and neither do you. Take it off.”

She hesitates for three agonizing seconds, her jaw tensing as she swallows. Then, with shaking fingers, she reaches for the delicate zipper at the side of her red dress.

She lets the fabric pool around her ankles, stepping out of it until she is standing before me in nothing but her bare skin.

Christ.

My jaw tightens so hard that it aches. Her body is a masterpiece of soft curves and pale, flawless skin, completely enticing me beyond any semblance of sanity. The cold water of the shower and the release from minutes ago are instantly rendered useless; the heavy heat in my gut flares back to life. I want to throw her onto the mattress and bury myself in her until neither of us remembers our own names.

Instead, I force my expression to remain neutral. I back up a step and sit down on the edge of the mattress, resting my forearms on my knees, my eyes never leaving her face.

“Now,” I murmur. “Please your husband.”

She blinks, completely caught off guard, a flush spreading from her cheeks down to her chest.

I am testing her. I’ll never lay a hand on her unless she wants me to. But I know the game she’s playing.

Gathering what little courage she has left, she takes a step forward, kneeling on the carpet between my thighs. Her small, trembling hands rest tentatively against my damp knees, her touch sending a jolt of pure electricity straight up my spine.

Awkwardly, she leans forward, her full lips parting as she attempts to press a soft, deliberate kiss to the inside of my thigh, trying to play the part of the temptress.

It lasts less than a second.

The sensation of her mouth against my skin snaps the final thread of my restraint. Before she can even register the shift, my hand shoots out, my fingers tangling firmly in the silk of her hair. With a tug, I overpower her, pulling her upward until she is splayed across my lap, her gasping mouth inches from mine.

“Stop,” I growl against her lips, my chest heaving against her bare breasts. “Don’t play games you aren’t equipped to win, Selene Vitale. Do not awaken the animal in me tonight. Because I promise you, if I lose control right now, I won’t hold back. I will tear you apart, and you won’t leave this bed for a week.”

She whimpers, her body trembling violently against mine, subdued by the dominance radiating from my frame.

For a long, agonizing moment, I just hold her there, letting her feel the rigid length of my cock pressing against her thigh, letting her realize exactly how close she is to the edge of the cliff. Then, with a harsh exhale, I release her hair. I shift her off my lap, rolling onto the mattress and pulling the heavy velvet duvet over both our bodies.

“Sleep,” I command roughly, turning my back to her. “And do not try to poke or touch me.” I lie completely rigid, staring at the dark wall, every muscle in my body coiled tight as I fight the urge to turn around and claim what is mine.

“Zagreus…” she whispers. I feel the mattress shift as she edges closer, her small hand reaching out in the dark, her fingertips brushing tentatively against the heavy ink on my shoulder blade. “Please… touch me. Just… under different circumstances. If things were different… would you have still taken me?”

The raw vulnerability in her question hits me harder than any bullet ever could. It slices through my anger, leaving nothing but a fierce, devotional ache in my chest.

I turn around slowly and, in the dim light of the dying fire, I look down at her tear-stained face. I reach out, cupping her jaw, my thumb wiping away a stray tear with agonizing tenderness.