Page 62 of Shattered Jewel

Kaspian

THE BOGEYMAN

I’m not kind. Nor am I gentle, or empathetic, or even somewhat good.

I’m not Elara’s knight in shining armor, but rather the devil clothed as one.

Not one ounce of virtue runs through my veins as I capture Elara against my front. She struggles like a mewling kitten even as I hold her with one arm. I’ve wisely put my legs between hers so she can’t knee me in the balls like so many panicked women tend to do.

I catch her not only to restrain her, but to bottle her fury—maybe feed off it—but my body hums with a different sort of craving as soon as she’s molded against me. My tongue craves the taste of her skin. My hands itch to explore under her clothes. It’s such a primordial and savage need that it’s rumbling from deep within, demanding a deadly price.

Elara’s innocence shines through even during a temper. Like sweet nectar on my parched soul. For some damn reason, it sparks a new kind of fire inside me, possessive, protective, destructive.

“Take off my sling.”

Elara halts mid-punch and whips her chin up. “What?”

“My sling.” I nod to my injured shoulder. “I can’t very well remove it while pinning you to my body, now can I?”

Her eyes widen, a hint of panic appearing.

“Why would I help you?”

Insubordination coats her every word.

“Because,” I murmur, leaning close enough that our breaths mingle, “you wouldn’t want me to use my teeth.”

I can see her mind processing it, the wheels turning behind the beautiful color of her eyes.

“I’m not doing a single thing to help you until you let me go.”

“Hmm,” I say, dodging her forehead easily when she tries to connect it with my jaw. “That’s unfortunate for you because I love it when you get angry.”

When Elara’s teeth go for my bottom lip, I let it happen, her sweet growl dancing along my tongue as blood bursts along hers.

Chuckling once she releases me and spits red, I lean closer to her ear, my lips brushing against her soft skin. “You know you want me to touch you, to feel you down there. You remember what it’s like, don’t you?”

“We’re not here for that. We have to find the last flash drive.”

The scent of her fear mixes with the lingering sweetness of her shampoo, making my mouth water. My lips tingle in anticipation of the mark they’re about to leave.

It takes some wrangling, but I grip her hair, pushing her head toward my bloodied mouth and watching as she tries not to wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t look away though, unable or unwilling.

Slowly, deliberately, I drag my tongue across the small cut on my bottom lip, then lick her mouth.

Elara trembles—a mix of revulsion and curiosity. When I pull back, my blood is smeared across her lips, marking the loss of her innocence with a crimson stain.

She tries pushing at me again, but I lean into her more, pinning her tighter until we’re practically one entity.

“I’ll ask you nicely one more time,” I say. “Untie my sling. There won’t be any hunt for a flash drive until I’m satisfied.”

Her heart thumps hard against my chest, and I swear everything else goes quiet. From her throat comes a quick sound of annoyance.

I yank at the fiery mass of waves framing her face until she yields under my grip, then lower my head to taste the pulse beating wildly in her neck, all the while whispering promises of sugared torment in her ear.

There’s a burst of something in her eyes then—resignation? It must be, because she starts working at the knot carefully, her small hands ripping at the linen.

“Good girl,” I purr as the sling falls away from my arm and onto the floor with a soft ripple.

---