Chapter 19 Tarek
TAREK
“You haunt me, Annelise,” I murmur, my voice low in the menagerie’s dank silence, my manticore blood stirring as I picture her bare before me. “I see you spread out, wanting me, moaning for me as I moan for you.”
My cock hardens, straining against my tattered pants, sparking a primal growl in my chest.
Her eyes meet mine, wide and forest-green, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “Tarek,” she whispers, her voice trembling with unspoken desire, “you shouldn’t say such things.” Yet her gaze lingers, betraying a longing she can’t name, a spark that threatens to consume us both.
My control, forged through years of war and loss, frays like worn cloth. The elven salves she risks her life to bring knit my wounds with unnatural speed, restoring my strength. With it, the manticore’s urges awaken—a fierce need to claim the woman who anchors me in this filthy cage.
Her quiet courage, her terrified desire, dismantles my defenses. I memorize her: the way she tucks golden hair behind her ear, the faint frown when she thinks she’s alone, the intelligence blazing in her eyes. She’s not just my charge; she’s my mate, a truth burning in my soul.
The distance between us torments me, a pain I can no longer bear.
Her unspoken longing mirrors my own, a dangerous fire flickering in this prison’s shadows.
The sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her breath, is a poison sweeter than any wine.
I endure a shattered leg, this cage’s humiliation, the despair of Osiris’s fall, but her nearness, separated by cold iron, is a new hell, my erection throbbing as proof.
“I should go,” she says, turning away.
I catch her wrist, my grip gentle but firm, her pulse racing beneath my thumb. “Tarek,” she gasps, her eyes flying to mine, gold flecks glinting in the torchlight. Her “don’t” is a plea, but her body leans closer, drawn to our forbidden fire.
“I want you, Annelise,” I say, my voice rough with truth. “I see your desire, feel your tremble—you want me too.” Her protest fades, her eyes admitting the beautiful, terrified truth she can’t speak.
I tug her wrist, and she follows, trance-like, her face inches from mine through the bars. The iron is a cruel, irrelevant barrier, her skin radiating heat, her eyes a constellation of gold. The world—cages, cruel masters, impossible odds—narrows to this moment.
Our lips meet through the bars, a hungry, desperate clash, teeth and tongues colliding in a dark, exotic storm. The kiss is a battle, tasting her fear, courage, and desire—a nectar that sets my blood ablaze. The manticore within claims her, my erection pulsing with need.
I pull back, my forehead against the cold bars, my body taut with desire. Her swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and dazed eyes fill my vision, tenderness crashing through me. “I won’t take you fully here,” I vow, “not in this cage, but as my mate, under a free sky.”
Annelise trembles, her eyes alight with want, my restraint fueling her courage. “You’re right, Tarek,” she whispers, her lips brushing my ear through the bars. “But you’re a mad beast if you think I can’t claim you now.”
Her words unravel me, a moan of surrender escaping as she kneels, the grime of the floor coating her knees.
Silently, she turns, her hands moving with deliberate grace, lifting her silk dress inch by inch.
The fabric whispers up her thighs, revealing pale, luminous skin, an offering that stops my breath.
She bends forward, pressing her ass through the bars, vulnerable yet commanding, a vision that threatens to undo me.
“Lick me, beast,” she whispers.
I move forward, my tongue tracing her rim, slow and reverent, savoring her forbidden heat. Her soft whimper pierces the silence, her body shivering, teetering on the edge. Her lady-like composure fractures under this dark intimacy.
I deepen my licks, exploring her with exotic hunger, each stroke a silent vow to worship her.
Her fingers grip the bars, her breath hitching, a muffled cry escaping as pleasure builds, sharp and overwhelming.
Her release crashes through, a trembling, tearful wail echoing off the damp stone, her body quaking as if she might faint.
She slumps on the dirty floor, her breath ragged, my heart pounding, my erection still straining. She pulls down her silken skirts and glances at my cock, still throbbing against my trousers. Her eyes widen at its size, bulging against the thin fabric.
“That’s for you,” I say, turning my back to her.