Feral Darlings

Chapter Two

Paloma

“ Has it been a century already?” I ask, my voice coming out stronger than I expected it to. “ How time flies.”

“ A little less,” he murmurs, his eyes raking over my exposed skin like he ’ s a tortured Jesus, fresh out of the Judaean desert, thirsty and starved. “ They let me go a little early for good behavior.”

I can ’ t help the humorless laugh that escapes me. “ You?” I ask, an eyebrow raised as he eagerly smiles in my direction. I ’ d forgotten just how handsome he could be. “ What? Did you bribe them with gold? Promise the ladies-in-waiting endless orgasms if they would just speak to the Queen on your behalf?”

He reaches out and grabs a handful of my hair, twirling the tight curls around his fingers. The coppery strands compliment the tan of his skin nicely, and I have to fight the pang of longing I feel at his return. I ’ ve missed him…desperately.

His face turns serious, those strong eyebrows scrunched together and jaw twitching. “ I have not touched a woman since you, Paloma.”

Disbelief turns my heart colder than he left it. “ Why are you here, Emris?” I ask, wanting to get to the point of this discussion. If I’m going to be punished in some way for turning him in, I want to get it over with. I have a business and a life to get back to, specifically without him in it. “ If it is to extract an apology from me, I fear you will be severely disappointed. What ’ s the saying? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?”

I narrow my eyes at him as he slinks back into the pillows, somehow taking up even more space than he had been before. Both hands go behind his head with a flourish, and his legs cross at the ankles.

“ I ’ m not so self-centered that I need an apology from you, dear Paloma.” He shrugs as he takes in my stunned expression. “ You think what you did was right, and because of that, no apology could ever be sincere. So why waste my time?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, an old habit I picked up from my mother, who picked it up from hers. Before Emris turned me, the action had made a permanent wrinkle right down the center of my nose, and I was thankful that little reminder of my family had remained through the change.

My temper was going to get the best of me. I have worked on it over the years, trying to become a calmer, more pleasant person to be around. You can ’ t earn the trust of humans when you ’ re killing everyone who steps one toe out of line on a bad day. But it goes against my nature to do so. Ever since I was born, I have always been the fiery one of my family, with strong lungs that I have been using since day one.

And this asshole was about to ruin my good record.

“ Then why are you here?” I groan, my patience wearing very thin. “ To torture me with non-answers and a blasé attitude?”

“ Your anger tastes almost as sweet as your cunt.”

The hatred and anger I have held toward him all these years flare back to life. My blood boils underneath my skin, and my breathing becomes uncontrolled. My nostrils flare wide as I stare down at him, pouring every ounce of pain he caused me into that one look.

And yet, at the same time, that heat spreads lower. My body betrays me by remembering what it was like to have him between my thighs, his tongue sinking deep inside of me while his fingertips dimpled the flesh of my hips.

It ’ s an onslaught of memories, both heartbreaking and thigh-clenching.

His eyes widen just slightly, and they dip down to my breasts, waist, and thighs before flicking back up. And that damned smile never leaves his lips. At that moment, I know that he knows. He can practically smell it on me—the want beneath all the ire.

“ I ’ m not here for an apology, Paloma. Nor am I here to enact some sort of revenge. I know I have a reputation but… tsk tsk tsk.” He shakes his head back and forth slowly. One of his arms unfolds so his fingers can play with the soft hem of my satin robe. “ I am merely here for you, wife.”