Page 28 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

“I hate you.”

“You would not hate what I have in mind, darling. A few more steps and you will beg me to rub you down.”Pure, primal male eyes raked her head to boots.

Alora cocked her hip and crossed her arms. “Bite me,”she challenged.

Garrik’s smile widened, eyes darkening with predatory intent. They seemed especially brighter when they found hers. The silver glow radiated like crystals under direct sunlight. He didn’t break his stare for a moment as he took a measured step toward her.

She staggered back, only to brace herself against the hewn wall. His power surged in the air between them. She couldfeelit as Garrik advanced again, closing the small distance between them. So close she glimpsed the fine line, almost perfectly healed, of the wound Soulstryker had made. So close that the scar on his neck was no longer a shadow but a raised ridge. Long and brutal across the side of his neck.

The artery unusually pulsed below.

Alora’s heartbeat quickened.

His metal and leather scent carried on the winter breeze, threatening the little nerve she had remaining. And she became painfully aware of every vein and every rippling muscle in his arms as his broad hands cautiously laid against the stones beside her taut shoulders, caging her in.

“Are you asking me to put my mouth on you?”Did his voice always sound that deep—that low—that eager that it reverberated through her entire being?

Impossibly bright eyes fell to her lips and traced steadily over her leathers, brushing up the warmth of her neck, her jaw, until it was her eyes he captured. His mouth twisted into a feral grin.

Was she still breathing?

His mouth.She willed herself not to swallow at the thought of all the places he could put it. The places shewantedhim to put it.

Alora inhaled deeply. Her chest rose, almost brushing his. She followed the open collar of his tunic, not a speck of dust or dirt on the fabric. Greedily, her eyes trailed over the swells and dips of his muscles and scars from her starfire. Until her eyeshovered at his lips and her heart jerked, remembering how they felt utterly perfect against hers before he sought out Kerimkhar.

Garrik’s eyes went lazy, and she almost melted into the stones at her back.

For a moment, she wanted to allow him to take her lips. Explore inside her mouth and dance his tongue with hers. Such time had passed since she allowed herself to even consider, to actually desire like this. To want and even need it.

His intoxicating voice flowed across her mind.All you have to do is ask.

Wasshe asking?

In her hesitation, Garrik drifted away, his scent receded as his hands lifted from the stone wall. But Alora’s hand swung out and grabbed his side. His gaze cocked low, staring at her handhold as Smokeshadows danced around her fingers and misted away.

She could have sworn she heard him stop breathing as her other hand gripped his tunic collar and pulled him until his hand delicately caressed the side of her neck, tangling in her hair. The other planted above her head, tethering him to the stone wall.

Every sound silenced, as if Garrik was the only thing on the entire mountain.

He trembled under her touch, but slowly he lowered his head and brushed her neck with his lips. They remained there, tickling her skin with a cruel and perfect movement as he whispered, “What would you like, darling? Ask me.” It sounded more of a desperate plea. His lips traced her jaw, and she gripped his tunic tighter, pulling his chest to hers.

Warm tears threatened to form when his thumb tenderly brushed her chin. His lips teased the shell of her ear, and she heard a pleasured hum from his throat.

Alora’s eyes closed as she stretched her neck, offering more.

“Ask me,” he breathed. Another plea.

“Do you want me to beg, High Prince?” Her voice airy, longing.

But Garrik’s breath fanned across her neck as he gently pressed a kiss there. “Ineverwant to hear you beg. It is I who will be begging.”

Alora released a soft moan, her hips greedily pressed into him, feeling him hard as steel under his pants. The mere thought of his desire sent a leaping ache tearing through her lower stomach.

That hand above her on the wall drifted down to her waist, wrapping around to the small of her back, before his thumb stroked her. His hand pulled her closer to him until it was impossible to deny he was enjoying her touch.

Garrik’s nose brushed hers as his lips opened dangerously close. “Fuck, Alora. I?—”

Before he could finish. Before she even thought of doing so, her lips stole his. The movement was as simple as blinking. Garrik’s lips were everything she remembered them to be: feverish, slow, demanding.

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