Page 42 of Blood On His Lips

He lifted a brow, then chuckled. “Are you appealing to my sense of fair play?”

Yes, I knew how foolish that was.

“I am not entirely certain what my blood in significant amounts would do to you,” he said. “You’re at a precarious stage in your development. A taste is fine, but more presents a risk I’m unwilling to take even if you are, little one.”

“Then what riskareyou willing to take, Prince?”

The amusement vanished from his expression. “Speak the words, Aerinne. Unleash my bindings.”

I slid my hand between our bodies, wrapped my fingers around his hard, silken length. His cock pulsed in my palm.

“You feel unleashed to me.” I slipped off his lap and lowered to my knees, ghosting my lips along his length.

He hissed, and I smiled, then took him into my mouth.

Males were the silly ones. I couldn’t have his blood, oh no, but he’d come in my mouth, in my pussy, and give me his seed.

I kept my amusement to myself though, enjoying the sounds he made as I moved my head up and down, taking him down my throat as deep as I was able. I’d practiced with others a time or two in my life, and I found my rhythm fast enough.

All males were putty with a set of soft lips around their cock. Renaud was no different.

I intended to milk him dry, to fuck him with my mouth and teach him a valuable lesson about who controlled whom. He thought he could subdue me with his bed, seduce me with skill honed over millennia.

I didn’t need millennia. Though a Fae female in heat yearned to submit, she retained her sanity. Not so much with the males. The Prince should have been more careful around me. I was puzzled as to why he hadn’t simply banished me from his presence until he got hold of his instincts and crushed them.

He was a moment from coming in my mouth when he snarled, yanking my head off his cock. “I don’t think so.”

Renaud hauled me back into his arms, straddling his lap. His mouth aimed for my neck, teeth clamping down but not breaking skin as the head of his cock nudged my entrance. I had a moment of panicked realization that he had just taken back every droplet of control I’d managed to wring from him.

Which meant he’d given me nothing but an illusion.

As his hips began to surge, I twisted, slapping my hands against his chest. “No, Renaud.”

The hiss from deep in his chest was nothing Fae. A flicker of dark wings, trapped at his back. He shifted his hips again, intent plain.

I clamped my thighs closed, trying to lunge out of his arms. His fingers dug into my flesh, hard enough for bruises, imprisoning me against him. The last time he’d used his strength against me, we’d been on the battlefield, and even then, he’d held back. This was a different kind of battlefield, but from the fury rising in the air, his restraint was a moment from shattering.

“Rein it in, Prince,” I said, then abandoned the attempt to flee and grabbed his neck with my taloned hand. My nails dug into his jugular. He wasn't the only predator in the room.

We stared at each other, mutual threat sharp and metallic in the air.

Renaud’s eyes paled, his entire body going still. “What game are you playing, halfling?”

Oh, he was pissed now. He’d dropped the possessive pronoun like trash.

I steeled myself. If he wanted me, I had requirements. If I were just another female in my House, I could afford to come to him with no thought but pleasure.

I was not just another female, no matter my fantasy of being ‘normal.’ Nor was he some pretty, harmless Fae boy. Taking his cock into my body meant accepting a whole host of problems, the least of which being the mind of the male said cock was attached to.

“This is not a game,” I said. “But it is a negotiation.”

If I was going to fall, I wouldn’t plummet off the cliff alone. He held too much power over me. I had to take some back, whichever way possible. With whatever weapons were in my meager arsenal.

For whatever inexplicable reason, biology, chance, similar heritage. . .he wanted me. It wasn’t a desire he entirely controlled, and that gave me a sliver of an opportunity. At least I had enough honor not to wait until he was buried in me, and distracted enough to promise anything.

. . .That was a lie. I worried thatI’dbe distracted enough to promise anything once he was buried in me.

“A negotiation,” he repeated. The Prince leaned back against the wall, lowering his lids to half shield his eyes. His body relaxed, muscled limbs languid.

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