Page 66

For one terrible moment, we just stare at each other, me squashed beneath the monster king. Kylian’s mouth latched onto my neck like a—

Like a vampire.

The servant drops his gaze instantly, tucks his chin, and mutters, “Majesty, I brought breakfast,” like nothing is amiss, like this is a normal morning, and I’m not pinned under the king with my dignity in shreds.

He shuffles inside, barely breathing, and I try again to twist free. Kylian’s grip only tightens; he nips at my throat, tongue tracing a line lower.

I shove at his chest. Nothing. It is like fighting a block of marble.

“Stop it,” I hiss, voice so small and desperate I almost don’t recognize it. “You’re squashing me!”

He stills, finally looking up. His eyes find mine with an intensity that makes me gasp, burning, feral. Not the normal reddish hue, but a strange fluorescent ruby color, blindingly and intense.

His mouth is parted around a breath that shudders against my cheek. Fangs, definitely visible now, glinting between his lips.

“Forgive me,” he says, but he doesn’t sound even slightly sorry. His voice is thick and rough, scraping over my skin like claws.

He pushes himself up enough that I can breathe easier but doesn’t let go of my wrists. He keeps me boxed in, and I become brutally aware of how small I am to him. How all it would take is one bad mood for this to end in disaster. But I can’t tear my eyes from his wild, hungry expression.

The servant has his head down, as if he wants nothing more than to drop the tray and bolt. The breakfast clatters softly to the side table. I catch him risking a glance at me from behind his hair, just brief, wary, but his cheeks are red, and he flinches as soon as Kylian glances up and snarls.

There is a perverse, awful relief when the servant ducks out and the door shuts.

Kylian doesn’t move away. He just leans into me, rolling his body into mine until I can feel every inch of him. The tension in his torso, the way his thigh slots between my legs, the ridiculous heat between us. I can barely think with him pressing so close.

He nuzzles my throat, scenting me, his nose dragging from the base of my jaw down toward my shoulder, lips moving softly over my skin. He makes a sound, low and utterly obscene, like he is barely keeping himself from biting down.

“Mine,” he says somewhere between a word and a growl.

“Please,” is all I manage, voice breaking. I meant stop, let go, move, but Kylian only laughs, dark and soft against the hollow of my neck.

He lifts his head so we are eye to eye again, and his expression makes the world drop out from under me.

All hunger. All intensity. Like I am the last drop of water in a drought.

“You’re afraid,” he says, fangs catching on his lower lip.

“No . . . I mean, yes, but . . .”

Gods. He is so close. I can barely summon words with his body on top of me and his eyes filling with heat, need, and a predatory hunger.

“You should be,” he said quietly. “But you’re curious too. Aren’t you, little mage?”

I jerk my head, forcing my chin up in what I hope is defiance. My face is still burning, but I try to glare at him, even though I feel like a silly kitten facing a wolf.

“You’re insufferable,” I say. “You could’ve at least let the servant think I was . . . not . . .”

The idea is so mortifying that I can’t get the words out. I twist again, but his body is like a wall.

He just smiles wider like he enjoys my helplessness and discomfort. The way I can’t look away from him even when I want to claw his eyes out for embarrassing me. I want to hit him, or maybe I just want to scream. My whole body is trembling, and I have no idea if it is from fear or something else entirely.

“Can you just get off me?” I try to sound commanding. It comes out pitiful.

He makes a show of considering it, that awful smirk still on his lips. He lifts his weight, not enough to let me go, but at least enough that I can suck in a deep breath.

His thumb keeps stroking circles on my hip. I hate the tingling sensation that spreads across my skin and the warmth between my legs while my stomach flutters.

“There. Is that better?” His gaze is locked on my face, studying every twitch, every blush.