Page 9 of King of Pride and Talons

Finding her voice, she stood her ground. “This has been a mistake.” She spun on her heel to leave.

“Where are you going?” The king’s voice still held an arrogance to it.

“Home.”

“Wait.”

Before she could take a step, the king grabbed her wrist.

The touch sent a vibrating sensation through every nerve ending, making her hot and cold all at once. They both froze, her wrist clenched in his hand.

Everything inside of her screamed that this man was meant to be hers. She was ignorant of how he knew she was his fated mate, but the way that her magic reacted to him told her there was something there worth looking into.

She’d told her sister she was ready for this, but now that it was here gripping her wrist, she wasn’t so sure. Not because of doubting who he was to her. But for the simple fact it scared the shit out of her.

FOUR

THORNE

What happened inside the alpha when he touched her was altogether mesmerizing, a sensation that had been a fable to him till that very moment.

The feel of her skin sent a surge of electricity down through his very bones. Time seemed to slow down as Breya’s plump rosy lips gaped open in surprise.

It wasn't mere infatuation. It wasn't lust. It was something cosmic and enchanting that went beyond their separate experiences as supernatural beings. Thorne’s lion roared deep within the wells of his soul, a robust thrum in his veins that made him feel both lightheaded and grounded.

There was nothing left to stop him from getting what he wanted. She was undoubtedly his mate, and he needed to have her. To devour every inch of her with a trembling, spiritual sense of pleasure.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers and felt no resistance. He pressed against her harder, and she groaned, her free hand moving to stroke his chest. Their lips did not part, but the passion was brewing like a volcano that had been lying dormant for decades.

She tasted of sea salt and fresh water springs.

His lion rumbled hungrily against her chest.

The king wanted all of her right then and there but managed to pull away for the sake of politeness. His heart hammered in his chest.

He had to do the cordial thing before his shifter nature took the helm.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Hmm?"

Breya’s green eyes showcased their brilliance under the dim torchlight. Her expression was flat, her lips having thinned out post-kiss, but her hand remained settled on his chest. Thorne stifled the urge to brush his mouth along each digit.

The woman was flabbergasted, and she wasn’t angry.

“For all of the confusion,” Thorne continued. “I didn’t want to tell anyone that you were my fated mate. It was divined to me by an acquaintance. But I wanted to be sure before saying anything."

Breya nodded along, still looking dumbstruck. She kept her gaze averted, finally removing her hand from his chest and taking a small step away. It wasn't aggressive, but it was enough to make Thorne feel a stab of disappointment.

"I understand, I do," she said, muttering, running her thumb along her bottom lip. "I really do."

An awkward silence hung between them like a heavy anchor ready to drop at any moment. Fearing trepidation, or even worse, regret, the king changed the subject, straightening himself and settling his tone back to that of professional courtesy.

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” he asked.

Breya appeared to come back to earth in that instant, looking herself over in a glittery golden gown. She raised an eyebrow at him, one that seemed both suspicious and sexy.

“Is that why you gave me this?” she said, motioning at herself with a sweeping motion. “I don't think I’ve ever worn something so…lavish."

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