Page 73 of Given to the Black King

“It wants me to roll you under me. Hold your head still. Put both fangs into your neck and empty the venom until nothing in your body remains outside me.”

Her thighs tense around mine.

I smell arousal, not permission.

“It thinks you should already be bound,” I say. “It does not understand why I keep leaving the last part of you beyond my reach.”

“And what do you want?”

“The same thing.”

The answer is rough enough to hurt.

She puts both hands on my chest. “Not tonight.”

“No.”

“But I can choose something else tonight.”

I look at her.

“One night,” she says. “One answer. Not a standing promise. Ask me when it wakes you. I decide each time.”

“I will not use you as medicine.”

“Then do not.” Her palms slide over my chest. “Use me because I want you. Let it help because our bodies are involved whether we like the timing or not.”

Her scent thickens.

The ache surges.

“What do you choose now?” I ask.

She lifts my shirt over her head.

Her body appears in the low firelight. My marks have darkened across her shoulder, breasts, and hip. Her nipples tighten when the cold air reaches them.

“This.”

My claws extend fully.

Iona takes my right hand.

“Show me again.”

“Not now.”

“Now.”

She turns my palm upward. Five black claws curve beyond my fingertips.

“The underside is smooth,” I say. “The outer edge and point cut.”

She touches the flat underside of my forefinger claw to the curve of her breast.

My heart stops.

“Iona.”