Page 37 of Given to the Black King

“No penetration tonight.”

The answer surprises me. “Why?”

“Because I can smell that you came here ready to prove you are not afraid.”

“I am afraid.”

“Yes.” His eyes travel slowly down my body. “You are also wet. Neither fact decides for the other.”

My breath shortens.

He looks back at the map as if it has offended him. “Tonight you learn what it is to touch me. I learn what I can do without losing the line. We stop before either of us has to guess.”

It is so reasonable that I want to hit him with a rolled survey.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Those are my terms.”

He turns his head. “You are angry.”

“I have spent nine days being stalked across rooms by a man who refuses to come within arm’s reach. Allow me one unreasonable feeling.”

“I have not stalked you.”

“No?”

His pupils spread.

I put my palm on his forearm.

The muscles jump beneath my hand. A second claw slides out. Then a third.

“Tell me to move.”

He catches my waist.

The speed steals my breath. One moment I am standing. The next my back is against the map rack and his body blocks out the room.

“I will not tell you again,” he says. His voice is lower now. Rougher. “Do not ask me to send you away when you want me to keep you.”

“I want you to keep me.”

His mouth takes mine.

The first kiss is hard enough to bruise.

His fingers knot in my hair at the base of my skull, claws curved safely away. His other arm locks around my waist and lifts until my toes leave the floor.

I grab his shoulders.

He angles his head sharply before his tongue enters my mouth. His fangs are always there. I feel one hard point outside the corner of my lips when I turn too quickly.

He stops.

Not slowly. At once.