Page 21 of The Reign of Blood

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip as my pulse quickens. I can feel it vibrating through me.

“You’re a princess.”

“I’m a fae.” That’s what’s important here. My origin overrules my status—it always has, and it always will. If my father drilled anything into me the most, it was that.

“A fae princess.”

“You’re a wolf prince.”

My chest rises and falls with every breath between us. His pupils dilate as he searches deep into my eyes. I catch a glimpse of the storm brewing in his, but before I can attempt to decipher it, our lips crash together.

I don’t truly know who moves first, but my fingers are clinging to the neckline of his tee for dear life. My body pulls him closer, despite my mind being eager to push him away.The internal battle won’t stumble into a war, not with how he’s claiming my mouth.

My body wins every time.

It may be a huge mistake, but that can be tomorrow’s regret. Right now, I’m desperate to lose myself in his touch and forget all of my problems.

Fighting for control, I nip at his bottom lip, forcing a growl from his throat that resonates deep inside of me. He moves one hand to my throat, flexing with precision, just how I like, while his other hand lands on the familiar spot between my legs.

It should not be this hot when someone grips your pussy, but he makes it the perfect possession and I can’t bring myself to deny it.

I groan as the heat between my thighs increases from him pressing his palm against my clit. His lips tear from mine, his breath ghosting over my cheek in short, sharp puffs, forcing me to pry my eyes open.

My breath lodges in my throat as my eyes meet his.

Feral.

It’s the only word to describe the glint in his dilating pupils.

His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but they quickly slam shut before his eyelids fall closed and his nose swoops over my cheek and down my throat.

Fuck.

I pout when his hand moves to accommodate his lips, pressing against my pulse with purpose, but the second he sinks his teeth into my flesh, my tantrum dissolves and desire ignites even deeper in my soul.

My eyes roll back as the thud from my head hitting the wall echoes around us. I can’t see, I can’t think, all I can do is feel.

A tear rips through the air, and before I can realize what it is, Cassian speaks.

“You ripped my fucking t-shirt.”

A ghost of a smile curls over my lips as I run my thumbs over the separated fabric. Blinking my eyes open with utter reluctance, I find him gaping at my hands. His muscles flex as he slowly drags his gaze to mine.

The familiar heat between my thighs disappears as he grips my black tee and offers the same to me. Our arms fall to our sides in sync. Breaths heave with every rise and fall as we stare at each other in our reckless states.

We shouldn’t. We really shouldn’t. This should be our warning sign to stop, but we sailed past that too long ago.

One breath, two breaths, three… we collide.

Lips, fingers, skin.

Everything. Everywhere.

It’s not enough.

Clothes scatter at our feet as he inches backward, and I move with him. I don’t shiver when there’s no longer a single piece of fabric touching my skin. My body is on fire.

His fingers wrap in my hair, gripping tight as he pulls me toward him. Our lips soften, the urgency ebbing slightly, but as soon as I think that, his movements become savage. Hands grapple at my waist, hoisting me in the air, tossing me toward my bed, and I tumble off the side. He catches me just before I hit the floor, but he only adjusts us enough to maneuver me into position.

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