Page 25 of Corrupted Tyrant

As I sink onto the bed beside him, my eyes fluttering closed, I let the music wash over me. Let it carry me away on a tide of longing and hope and… affection.

The song ends too soon, the last notes fading into silence. For a moment, neither of us moves, afraid to break the spell. But then Courage lowers the flute. When I open my eyes, his are piercing mine in the dim light.

“I should get my guitar,” I whisper, the words thick as I return from my fantasy. “We could play together.”

His gaze drops to my hands, to the fingers that itch to pluck out a harmony. “Maybe you don’t need it.”

Slowly, carefully, he sets the flute aside. Then he reaches for me, his palm warm and rough against my skin as he guides my hand to his chest.

“Feel that?” His heartbeat thrums beneath my fingers, steady and strong. “That’s all the music we need.”

And he’s right. As his lips find mine, as his hands tangle in my hair, and his body molds to my curves, I feel it. A symphony of sensation, of emotion, of connection.

My fingers are wound so tightly in his shoulder pelt that he has to pull to ease away from me. His gaze flicks from my eyes to my lips and back again as he swallows, then husks, “Fuck, Candy. I’ve vowed a hundred times not to do this. I forbade myself even one more kiss.”

He pauses as though he’s completely forgotten what he was saying, his gaze focused on my mouth.

“You should stand up and march your pretty little ass back to your room.”

“Why?” I manage to make the question into an accusation.

“Because if you don’t leave in the next ten seconds, I’m going to rip your clothes off and discover exactly what you taste like.”

I grip the spread, determined to hang on tight even if he lifts me and tries to bodily carry me out.

“You’re killing me, rock star.” Those expressive blue eyes are piercing to my soul. I’m not sure whether he’s begging me to leave, or pleading with me to stay.

“It’s been ten seconds, big, bad wolven. I’m still here.” I toss my hair. “And FYI, I’m dying to know what you taste like, too.”

His eyes widen, he gasps, and his flute rolls to the floor as his fingers grip the bottom of my t-shirt.

Chapter Eighteen

Courage

I’m a male wolven. How much self-control can anyone expect of me?

My cock is hard and fat and thumping against my jeans. I’m smitten and desperate and Candy’s scent is swirling in the air, tempting me until I’m half-crazed with lust.

I’ve ripped her shirt off and tossed it to the corner before I’m aware I’ve even moved.

“Tell me to stop.” My voice is so deep and full of grit it doesn’t sound like me.

“I want you, Courage.”

I growl, my feral instincts taking over, threatening without words.

“You don’t scare me, Courage. I want you.” She smiles and beckons me closer with the crook of one finger.

“Leave, Candy. We both know this isn’t right.”

“We both know how much we want this.” She sits up straighter and grips my thigh, far too close to my desperate cock for comfort. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take your pants off. I’ll do all the work.”

She’s serious! And look at her. Her eyes are glazed with lust. She’s licking her lips like a… hungry wolf.

It’s this—her need for me, her pungent scent, her lack of doubt. There isn’t a bone in her body that wants to turn back. It pushes me over the edge and I skim her pants and panties down and off her body, barely remembering to retract my claws as my fingers graze her tender skin.

If I don’t slow down, I fear I’ll hurt her with my claws or fangs, so I spring off the bed, retreating until my back hits the wall with a hollow thump. Panting, I plan my next steps. I’ll get what I want—we’ll both get what we want—without me being so crazed that I harm her.

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