Chapter 8 #3
He must see it in my eyes. “I will kill her because this is not the first time she’s dared attack you.
Last night can be forgiven—she didn’t know who you were.
But now she has no excuse. I will kill her because you are mine and she hurt you.
I will kill her because I promised myself I would protect you. No matter what the cost.”
Kill her? My eyes widen. Mine? What is this?
“Stay here,” he says, trying to push me aside. “I will be back.”
He’s going to ruin everything and in so doing, cast me to the wolves. Or, to be more precise, my father’s lack of mercy.
There’s only one thing to do—
I kiss him.
There’s a moment of stillness as if I caught him by surprise. Hands lock around my forearms as if he seeks something to steady him.
And then, it’s as though he surrenders utterly to the sensation. Keir kisses me hard, shoving me back against the door, his soft mouth claiming me. His tongue lashes against mine, the stone wall of his chest pressed firmly against me.
I knew his body was carved of pure marble by some long-ago artisan who conjured him into flesh, but the sensation of it…. All that muscular flesh pressing me into the door, grinding me there until we’re practically struggling for breath and surrender, steals my wits.
Maybe we aren’t the ones fighting—maybe we were fighting our own desires—because it feels as though desperation twines itself through my body.
I need to kiss him.
I need his hands on my skin.
His tongue in my mouth.
I need this like I need air. Or water.
He kissed me once, his oath biting into my lips and drawing blood. At the time I was frightened and reeling, and though the memory of that kiss has replayed itself a thousand times over in my head, it wasn’t entirely something enjoyable.
But now I’m not thinking about pain, or oaths, or stopping him.
Now all I can taste is his mouth.
That hard, relentless mouth that tastes like all manner of sin. I can taste apples on his tongue, tart and sweet, and his hands slide down my hips, capturing my ass in both hands as he hauls me up, driving into the welcoming embrace of my hips.
A gasp tears loose from my ragged throat. I should stop this right now. This is dangerous, like throwing oil on a fire, but I can’t. Just a second more. Another second. I’m stealing seconds and drowning in the passion of his claim.
Keir doesn’t just kiss me.
He steals my breath, my thoughts, my tremulous heart…
and if I’d had my soul, I think he’d be engraving his name permanently on that too.
I can feel his magic running through my veins like molten honey—or slow-acting poison.
It slides through every inch of me, igniting something within me that I’ve never felt before.
A hand cups the back of my neck, fisting in my hair.
“Zemira.” My name is a gasp on his lips, and then he’s no longer being kind and gentle.
Instead, he claims me with some sort of desperate growl, stirring a beating hunger within me.
It feels like we’re eating at each other, as if I’m inhaling some sort of primal essence from him and breathing it into my lungs.
It’s too much.
I break away, shuddering for breath as I rest my forehead against his. The slam of my heart against my ribs feels like a mule kicking its stall walls. I don’t know what just happened. Except whatever did occur, I can still feel it, like lightning dancing through my veins.
Our eyes meet. I can see the storm within him, dark clouds bubbling on a distant horizon. This is the primordial darkness within him. The conqueror. The prince. And he wants to claim every inch of me until he owns me.
Oh no.
I think I’ve roused the dragon.
“Put me down,” I whisper, heart racing like a carriage out of control.
He turns and strides toward the bed, carrying me in his arms. “Good idea.”
“Not like this—"
My back hits the mattress and Keir kneels between my thighs. Reaching down, he tries to capture my mouth again, but if he does all is lost.
Because I won’t let him out of this bed again.
I shove his shoulder, and we roll, me ending up astride him.
I don’t know who’s more shocked. Him, to find himself flat on his back, with my thighs straddling his lean waist, or me, to discover that the position, whilst the dominant one, seats me right where I shouldn’t want to be.
I freeze, fingers curling in his shirt.
Someone’s happy with the situation. And if what I can feel grinding into my ass is any indication, I do not want to unleash that battering ram for fear it will conquer me as surely as any castle.
“What the fuck were you planning to do with that thing?” I squeak, looking down as I heave my weight forward onto my knees. “Broach the castle walls?”
Keir captures my thighs in his hands, his eyes lazy-lidded. “Maybe I’ll fuck you into oblivion instead. Maybe we can dispense with these stupid fucking games and simply skip to the enjoyable part.”
Another squeak of shock escapes me. “Games?”
“What’s wrong, Zemira?” His thumbs ride up the inner slope of my thighs. “You can take it. You know you can take it all.” A dangerous look enters his eyes. “I’ll even let you be on top.”
Oh no. This is a bad idea.
My body begs otherwise.
“We’re enemies,” I blurt. “You locked me into a year and a day of service. You’re a dragon. You’re supposed to be concentrating on the horn!”
“Keep lying, my love.” His thumb digs into my inner thighs as he runs the other hand up my leg. “Maybe we’ll both believe it.”
What is happening here?
He rolls me onto my back again, and then he’s kissing his way down my throat and I let him.
“They’re all truths,” I blurt as his lips reach the edge of my neckline. I can’t believe the dress is still in place.
He lifts his head, his eyes shining like lighthouses in the night. “You’re only my enemy if you believe it, Mira.”
Mira.
I can’t breathe. No. No, this isn’t happening.
“And yes, I will hold you to me for a year and a day.” His roughened palm skates up the silk of my dress, right where I want it. I gasp and can’t help undulating as it curves over my breast. “I will hold you to me forever, if you let me.”
“I. Can’t.”
Frustration firms that sensual mouth, and his hand stills. “Why not?”
Why not, indeed?
“Because you’re a prince!” I yell. “You own me.” And my father will kill me if he catches wind of this, or worse—he’ll see a means to bend the Prince of Dreams to his whims. I don’t know which is worse.
I have to stop this. “And you are meant to be flirting with other women! What happened to our plan?”
“Change of plans.” His eyes are like molten pools of fire as he stares down at me.
“There will be no more of this distance between us. You belong to me. You’re my promised bride.
” He leans closer, his breath stirring against my scalded lips.
“And I don’t care what anyone thinks. You will be by my side until this plays out.
You’ll sit on my fucking knee if I have to make you.
You don’t leave the room without me, you don’t vanish into thin air—”
A growl of frustration escapes me. Trust a fae prince to start making power plays when I definitely do not need them. “Why not just tattoo ‘property of the Prince of Dreams’ on my ass?”
There’s a look in his eyes, one I don’t like at all. “Don’t tempt me.”
“You’re supposed to be the distraction. Not painting glowing foxfire all over me that says ‘this bitch needs to be watched.’”
He captures my chin. “You’re already being watched.
You have a fucking blood curse wrapped around your heart, Zemira.
” His voice comes out half-growl, all menace.
“You want a choice? Then here’s your choice…
you obey my new rules, or I’ll go after Belladonna and remove the threat of that blood curse. ”
He’s going to set the entire court on fire.
Or maybe rip her heart right out of her chest.
I can see it in his expression.
I shove against his chest and escape the close confines of his body.
“Fine. No more solitary sojourns. Drape me over your knee, pretend I’m the woman who stole your heart, stomp the ground and beat your chest like some pagan beast making his claim, but do not ruin this for me.
If you kill the princess, I lose any chance we have at getting our hands on that horn. ”
And that, I can’t allow.
Keir’s lips curl in a satisfied smile. “I won’t kill her, Zemira. But an affront to my claim on you like this must be satisfied.”
I thump his chest with my fist. “Don’t—”
He captures my hand and presses a heated kiss into the palm of it. “I’ll do nothing that will risk the horn. I swear to you, by the Goddess who Blessed me, I won’t harm a single hair on her head.”
It will have to do.
I finally nod.
And then I escape to the antechambers so I can breathe again, knowing I just left a territorial dragon in my bed unsated.