Page 4 of Serpent King's Bride

“Tell me, Nathan,” I said, leaning close so my lips brushed his ear, “is this how you thought it’d go? You, the feared Fangs Zhou, at the mercy of a fed?”

His hands flexed against the floor, a visible sign of restraint—or perhaps an urge to touch. But he didn’t move them toward me. Instead, he exhaled sharply, a mixture of frustration and arousal evident in his expression.

“Careful, Agent,” he warned, his voice low and rough. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, rising slowly before sinking down again, setting a rhythm that was both torturous and intoxicating. “But aren’t the most dangerous games the most fun?”

His laugh was humorless, a dark sound that resonated with the complex tangle of emotions we found ourselves in. We were enemies, bound together by a forbidden attraction that defied logic and duty.

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Nathan finally said, his brown eyes burning into mine. “But there’s no denying...it’s something.”

“Wow, how flattering,” I murmured. “Now shut up and let me ride you, Nathan.”

I gasped, picking up pace, driven by a craving for him, for him, for more of him. And as I rode him, as I felt him move beneath me, I knew one thing for certain: whatever this ‘something’ was, it had changed everything.

“Are you going to behave if I let you touch me?” I asked, the question coming out more breathless than I intended. There was a raw edge to my voice, betraying the intensity of the moment.

Nathan’s gaze was locked onto mine. Finally, with a barely perceptible nod, he gritted out a “Yes.”

I pulled away from him a little, my heart hammering against my ribcage as he brought his hand up to my waist. His fingers were rough, calloused from a life I was only beginning to understand—a life of violence and power. But here and now, his touch was anything but violent. It was possessive, yet reverent as he guided me, urging me deeper onto him.

The sensation of him pushing into me sent a shockwave through my body. Our movements became synchronized in desperation and desire, each thrust a shared escape from the reality waiting for us beyond his living room.

“Fuck, Abby,” he groaned, his control slipping with each passing second.

“Shut up,” I shot back, my own resolve fraying as pleasure built inside me. This wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable, this was a means to an end. But as I felt him inside of me, with every pulse and beat of our frantic hearts, it was impossible to think of anything else.

I started speeding up, my body moving on instinct. Nathan’s hands tightened on my waist, his eyes darkening further, a sign that he was close. He fought against it, his jaw clenching, trying to hold back.

“Let go,” I commanded, locking my eyes with his. I needed this—needed to see him unravel beneath me.

With a final push, his restraint shattered. He came hard, his release triggering my own climax. I tried not to crumble on top of him, fighting to stay upright as waves of exhaustion crashed over me. My muscles quivered, but I kept moving, milking him through it until we were both spent.

“Damn you, Abby Harper,” Nathan breathed out, a mixture of admiration and something darker lacing his words.

“Right back at you,” I replied, too drained to muster the energy for anything more than honesty.

After the frenzied blur of limbs and breaths, we were silent. The room was still charged with the intensity of what had just transpired, but a different tension now hung in the air—thick, heavy, and impossible to ignore. I held the knife to his throat, a cold line of steel pressed against the warmth of his skin.

I watched him carefully, my breathing finally slowing down as I tried to read any sign of betrayal or mockery in his expression. I wondered if he would go for the knife.

His dark eyes met mine, revealing nothing but the calm acceptance of a man who’d walked on the sharp edge of danger all his life.

“So are you going to behave?“ I asked, my voice steady despite the wild beating of my heart.

“Yes,” Nathan replied simply.

“Good,” I said, easing the pressure of the blade without removing it entirely. “We can talk. I’m not going to hurt you...as long as you don’t hurt me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in an almost imperceptible smirk. “Fair enough.”

And then, as if the absurdity of our situation suddenly dawned on him, Nathan started laughing. Not just a chuckle or a snort, but a deep, hysterical laughter that seemed to bubble up from somewhere deep within him. He laughed with the kind of abandon that should have been impossible given the circumstances—with me still straddling him, his release still warm inside me, and the knife at his throat.

And he wasn’t going soft.

His laughter was infectious, and though I tried to suppress it, a giggle escaped my lips, too. This whole scenario was insane—we were enemies, brought together by lust and need, both fully aware that when this moment ended, nothing would stop us from being on opposite sides again.

But for now, at least, I was relatively sure he wasn’t going to kill me.

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