Page 68 of King of Storms and Feathers

“Then he is likely already dead. Cast him from your thoughts,” Arrow said, his voice silky, but an unnerving shadow flickering over his hooded gaze.

A shiver skated down my spine as he tugged my top below my breasts, exposing me to the cooling breeze. My nipples pebbled instantly, and Arrow’s eyes fluttered closed, then cracked open as he tugged me forward, closer to his heat.

“Try to be good, and this may not go so badly for you,” he said against my lips, his hand cradling my skull as his mouth forced mine to open with a perfect, mind-spinning kiss.

“You have a strange idea of punishment,” I whispered when he broke away and cupped my breasts, his thumbs grazing the hardened peaks.

He grunted in reply, and despite my best efforts to remain unaffected, the rough sound made heat pool low in my stomach. Why did he have to be so magnetic, his arrogant face so breathtaking?

His beauty was excessive. Almost sickening. And only made me hate him more. At least that’s what I told myself as my knees weakened and I fell farther into his embrace.

I kissed him back with clumsy enthusiasm because the terrifying, wonderful things he made me feel transported me away from this prison. Made me forget I was a human with no name in a city full of supernatural predators.

I hated Arrow. Hated him with a passion. And yet, right now, I felt like I would die if he didn’t touch me and fill the ache inside me.

Obviously, my mind was a mess. Awash with relief that the Storm King wanted to torture me with his kisses instead of a variety of sharp instruments.

I moaned as his tongue brushed mine, first soft and then demanding.

“Yes, that’s it,” he said, smiling against my lips. “Let go.”

His hand palmed my breast, then traveled slowly down my stomach, coming to rest over my molten center. His smug smile skated over the side of my neck as he discovered the evidence of my body’s betrayal, no doubt delighting in my blatant need for more… more pressure… more of him.

No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to get enough of his touch.

“Arrow…” I moaned, lifting my hips.

“Leaf,” he whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice as his thumb stroked over the damp material of my pants. The bastard was enjoying my undoing. “Off with these,” he commanded, tugging the edge of them.

Wriggling my hips, I slid the material down to the tiles, my eyes locked on his. Although it would cost me my pride, my self-respect—my only possessions of worth—I wished he would hurry up and make me forget everything. Everything except… him.

He bent and ripped my pants away from the chain still attached to my ankle, then when I was naked, turned me carefully, inspecting my body. His finger traced my lower spine, and he made a tsking sound. “This bruise on your back is especially bad. If I knew who did this, I would—”

“What would you do? Kill them like you did the blacksmith?”

The wildness in his gaze told me that was exactly what would happen.

“Prepare to punish yourself then, King Arrowyn.”

A frown creased his brow. “I… I didn’t do this.”

“You did. When you slammed me against the wall in Bonerust.”

His breath hitched. “I was angry… afraid for you. I shouldn’t have been so careless… All I want is for you to stop disobeying me.”

Ari’s words swam through my mind. Pretend to be who he wants. That is your first step forward on the path home. As much as I disliked it, deep in my heart, I knew she was right.

“Instruct me, and I promise I will do your bidding without complaint. I’ll give you my complete obedience tonight as penance for—”

“For what? Your betrayal of my trust today?” Flames from a sconce lit up his eyes, and they darkened from mirror-bright to slate gray as he released a rough sigh. “Fine. Come here.”

I closed the small distance between us, and he wrapped a hand behind my neck, taking control of my movements while his other hand snaked up my body to knead my breast. Slowly, he teased his hardness against me, squeezing my sensitive nipple until I moaned his name with shameless abandon.

A chuckle grazed my ear. “You enjoy that—pleasure laced with pain.” A statement, not a question.

Fever gripped me as he pressed hot kisses over my chest, then suckled my nipple deep, his tongue teasing, making me writhe and burn. With a curse, I surrendered completely, bucking against his fingers as they danced over my drenched folds.

“Oh, God,” I moaned, and the asshole had the nerve to laugh.

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