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Her gaze roams across our bodies, lingering on Corvin’s wings a bit too long, and I agree—they’re hideous things.
“I almost died today, and yet this is more shocking. What are you two doing?”
“Playing,” I answer.
She steps out of her room, and Corvin doesn’t release me. “Dawn, this doesn’t concern you. Go back inside.”
“Like hell it doesn’t,” she says, stepping closer, and the little thing barely comes up to our chins. “It’s happening outside my room, and if you two want to kill each other, please be my guest, but not outside my door. I suggest going somewhere with better drainage.”
This time, even Corvin chuckles, which is a surprise, considering he has a pole up his ass all the time.
“Corvin, let him go,” she commands, and I do admire her strength.
But the bastard presses harder, and the bite sharpens as skin breaks. Blood drips down the front of my throat. Corvin glances at me with hatred, sneering, and with a fluster, he rears off me, taking his blade with him. He stares at Dawn for a long pause, clear that he’s struggling with what to do with her. I can think of a few dozen things off the top of my head.
“That was pleasant,” I snap, wiping the blood from across my throat.
“Next time, I’ll take the whole thing off.” He turns and stalks down the corridor without another word.
“Oh Gods, do you bleed gold?”
Dawn’s words seize my attention, and I swing it in her direction, smiling. “Trust me, it’s not, even if it might look that way.”
“Come inside. Let me help clean that up before you get it all over the place and upset the king and he executes us.”
I chuckle, loving her cute excuse to draw me into her place.
I follow her inside past a locked door I never got a chance to pick. Now it’s open for me.
Inside, the accommodations are better than mine, which might have been done on purpose by the Gamemaster. He’s appeared annoyed with us for bringing Dawn into the city for some reason. Regardless, we’re here now. I kick the door shut behind me and take in the wall of glass that overlooks the city in the distance and part of the palace. It’s rather breathtaking. The room is filled with leather furniture and more of the floating lamps, except I’m not paying attention to my surroundings.
My gaze follows Dawn.
She disappears into the bathroom, and I’m on her heels, staring at her tiny waist, the curve of her hips. How she swings them as she walks, as though knowing I’m staring. Back in the Obsidian Sun palace, women court men through dances, moving their bodies provocatively, and seeing her this way makes me think she’s calling to me.
The bathroom is large, with a deep tub sunk into the floor, and there’s a broad window ledge that draws me closer. I plunk myself down there, knees open, sprawled against the glass, watching Dawn dampen a towel in the sink.
She’s a determined little thing.
She turns toward me, then pauses, staring at me as though seeing me for the first time.
“Does my monster form frighten you?”
She shrugs. “A bit, but I’m curious more than anything. Especially after learning that I’m from the same place as you.”
“If you want to look closer and touch, you can. I’ll only bite if you ask.”
She approaches me slowly and steps between my thighs. I don’t touch her but sit back and let her study me. She runs the tips of her fingers tenderly across the top part of my chest where my shirt pulls open over my collarbones. Her touch is so gingerly that I grin to myself, curious to discover how soft she is under my hands.
Not a word, just focused intensity as she traces the golden lines that cover my body. They run down my arms and legs, across my chest and back. And they pulse with my heartbeat.
Her sweet fragrance coats the back of my throat, and my cock throbs with her in such close proximity. She’s a pretty girl, more attractive than I should be paying attention to. Dark hair cascading down her back, striking violet eyes, and full lips made to part for my cock.
“You should see me in the dark,” I say teasingly.
“It would be beautiful,” she answers seriously, which takes me aback. “Do the fiery lines do anything?”
“It’s a bit like armor,” I admit, lifting my hand to her cheek, brushing a few strands of hair off her face. But she catches my hand, so tiny against mine, studying my bronze-tinged claws and the small curving spikes protruding from each knuckle. “They stick out more when I close my fist.”
