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My cheeks burn hotter, and I try to turn my head away. I can’t look at him, not like this. Not when I’m flushed and shaking and my heart is pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it.

His gaze is relentless.

He studies every twitch of my mouth, every sweep of my lashes. When my thighs tense beneath him, I feel the answering flex of his hands.

“Let me go,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure I want him to.

He leans in so close that his fangs graze the shell of my ear. “No.”

He draws in a shaking breath, and I feel his restraint splintering, like he’s one heartbeat away from feeding on me. The fear spikes again. A quick, electric rush that nearly knocks me out. I squeeze my knees together, trying to edge his hips away, but all that manages to do is make his eyes burn a shade brighter, and he moves between them.

He looks so pleased with himself, but I want to scream.

His hips rock forward, slow and deliberate. I make an embarrassing noise, biting my lip bloody when his cock rocks against my core.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, softer now. Like he means it in a way I don’t understand. “And I’m yours. That’s how this works.”

“I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s. You can’t just—”

He cuts me off with a growl, not even a word, just that predatory sound vibrating through my chest.

“You are, though,” he says, quieter now. His tongue flicks over his lips, fangs peeking white and deadly. “Unless you’d prefer I go find your sister instead?”

Over my dead body.

I arch up, shoving again. “Touch her, and I will kill you.”

He grins, showing all those impossibly perfect teeth. His grip on my wrist softens a fraction, like he finds it funny that I just threatened him.

“Don’t worry,” he purrs, leaning in so I can feel his breath on my mouth. “You’ll be all I need, if you behave.”

Every word sends a shiver through me. I hate him . . . I do . . . but I want more. I want him pressed against me, want him to taste me, want him to . . .

I bite down on my lip so hard it nearly draws blood, and a whimper escapes me. I hate this man, so why would my mind even go to such thoughts?

He lowers his body until every inch of him is flush against me. It’s too much.

“Kylian,” I whisper. There’s a new note in my voice now. Not just panic. Hunger, too, and humiliation for wanting anything from him.

He traces a cold fingertip along my jaw. “You’re so easy to read,” he says, sounding amused. “All your little tells. If you want me to believe you, you should learn to lie better.”

I glare at him, cheeks boiling. “I hate you.”

“Yet your arousal . . .” He breathes in deeply. “It tells me you want me.”

I open my mouth to deny it, but his hand on my hip moves between our bodies and between my legs.

“Admit it.” He nips at my lips. “Admit you want me, and I will let you up.” Tears burn my eyes. “I’m waiting, little mortal,” he murmurs. “Or do I need to prove it to you?”

I’m not given a chance to reply when his fingers brush my slit, and I jerk at the sensation.

“So wet for me already.” The next moment his finger prods my entrance, and I hiss, not expecting the intrusion, and wiggle closer up the bed. “Kylian,” I whimper but his lips only brush mine gently.

“Shh, it’s just one finger,” he says against my lips, my body tenses as he pushes as deep as he can go, and my face flames. He groans a vulgar sound before dropping his head against my shoulder.

“I can’t wait to see this tight cunt bleeding all over my cock,” he purrs. Tears prick my eyes, and I struggle beneath him. Then he sighs, slowly withdrawing from inside and showing me his glistening finger. Blood seems to rush to my head. “See,” he smiles before sucking on the finger. I turn my gaze away. “You embarrass far too easily. You have nothing to be ashamed about,” he says, pressing his lips to my cheek.

Then his heat is gone, and he climbs out of bed with the casual confidence of someone who has never known shame. My breath catches in my throat as I realize he is naked, his body sculpted like a god, all lean muscle and glistening skin. My eyes dart away, only to notice a damp towel lying across the chaise, evidence that he must have woken in the middle of the night to shower.