Page 79 of Threaded

She must’ve felt him, the hardness now digging into her lower back, and—Enfaradamnher—she knewexactlywhat to do with it. Slowly, she tilted her hips up, sliding her ass up his body, until his cock rested against the firm flesh of her backside. She continued to move slowly, teasing him with the feeling of her skin on his.

It was making him ravenous, once again consumed with an insatiable need forher.

He slid the arm wrapped tightly around her chest down her body, tightening his hold on her arms with his other hand. Her skin was so unbelievably soft and smooth; just the feel of it beneath his fingers was addicting, a tactile drug as maddening as her scent.

He kept sliding his hand down her body, over the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips.

Without a second thought, he reached between her legs, the skin there softer than anywhere else. She was drenched, satisfaction rushing through him at knowing just his touch had her body reacting in much the same way his was.

He could already taste that wetness between her thighs.Svass, he’d said to her last night. Another word from the language of his mother’s people.

It meantsweet. Like honey.

He drug his finger through her center, pulling one of those decadent, breathy moans he was beginning to enjoy far too much from her throat.

Just as he was about to dive in, to make her gasp and shake and whimper his name, his nightmare memory came screaming back into his mind.

His father’s voice, the last voice he ever wanted to hear—especially inthatmoment—tore through the haze of lust that had settled over his vision.

“I swear upon the depths of Enfara that she will meet a fate worse than death.”

It was as if he’d been doused with a bucket of cold water. The icy chill from his childhood suddenly washed over him, cooling every ounce of heat the woman beside him had drawn to the surface.

With a stifled, frustrated groan, he pulled his hand from between her legs and slid his other arm from beneath her head, rolling onto his back and disentangling from her, his eyes moving up to stare at the ceiling.

The mattress dipped beside him as she shifted, his sudden absence rousing her further from sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her roll away from him and onto her stomach.

“Andrian.”

That haunting voice pulled his eyes from the ceiling and back to where she lay on the bed beside him. She’d propped herself up, her head resting on her hand, her dark hair a heavy blanket across her shoulders, forest green eyes smoldering with questions.

Mariah Salis was … stunningly, perfectly beautiful. He felt his heart constrict in his chest, his lungs squeezing desperately for air, just as they had on those days in the palace courtyard and in Qhohena’s temple.

His father should’ve known. Never should’ve made that promise to him. Should’ve seen that the next queen would be so much more than just another woman, but a goddess made flesh.

Andrian had never stood a chance.

But … he had to try. If not for him, then for the wicked siren beside him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you just going to make me stare at you all day?”

Despite the panic lingering in his mind from his nightmare, he couldn’t help his smirk.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy staring at me,nio.”

Mariah rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

He huffed a laugh in response, but then fell quiet, the smile falling from his face.

She was far too smart, he knew. He had to tell hersomething.

And the best lies were always those based in truth.

“Did you know that I was born Royal? Not just Royal, but the heir to House Laurent?”

Her eyes widened slightly, her nostrils flaring in slight shock. She shook her head slowly, and he waited for her to roll away from him in disgust.

But … she didn’t. She only continued to watch him expectantly, waiting for more.

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