Page 95 of Heir to His Court

He shuddered, lowering his head and yanked my hand to his mouth, holding my gaze as he licked each bloody finger. “I wonder, little Darkling. Is my blood as delicious as yours? I suspect not.”

Renaud leaped back when I swiped at his head. That's what I thought. He didn't mind my talons opening up his rib cage, but he wanted to protect his pretty face.

I used all the power of my thigh muscles to leap into a sprint, the Prince hard on my heels a split second later. Hampered by the denseness of the forest, we were still Fae. We ran.

He was still an elite male warrior inexplicably in peak condition despite decades of sleep.

Renaud tackled me to the ground, arms around my waist as I crashed against the forest bed; I hit the side of my head on something and tasted blood for the few heartbeats I remained dazed.

He flung me over onto my back, and I drew up my feet kicking out, my fangs lengthening as I reared up and attempted to sink them into the side of his neck.

The Prince laughed, wild and dark, evading. “Fight me, halfling, fang and claw. It makes subduing you an even greater reward.”

“I willneversubmit to you.”

“Oh, you will. I will wring submission from you as I wring your neck.”

We struggled, my speed and Skills against his speed and superior strength. Renaud didn't lower himself to employ the use of power; his nonchalance enraged me, cemented my internal oath to do everything I could to become stronger.Everything.

Anything.

He wrenched my head up and to the side, exposing my neck. I managed to get my hands between us and slammed the heel of my palm on the underside of his jaw.

Low, vicious curses in three different languages spilled out of his mouth as he grabbed and flung me away from him, touching his nose gingerly.

I laughed, and he immediately lunged, eyes malevolent as he caught me. I screamed in fury, pulling on the harpy's voice. The forest canopy burst into panicked noise and movement as night creatures fled the area. Renaud's preternatural snarl echoed my shriek.

“You will not have me,” I panted as we fought, “I am not your prey. I will never fall prey to a pathetic Montague princeling.”

The back of his hand crashed against my cheek; I went limp.

Dazed, I watched as matte black nails arched down, slicing through the skirt of my dress. The chainmail wasn't so easily dealt with, but he dealt with that too, stripping me until I lay bare beneath him like an obscene sacrifice while he retained the dignity of his robes.

I kneed him; preternaturally fast, he shifted his hips. I crushed my elbow into his nose androlled to my stomach to crawl away, then pushed to my feet.

Claws grabbed my ankles, jerking me back down and to him as my talons grabbed at the earth, digging in in the attempt to stall the inexorable backward motion. He settled a knee in the small of my back, leaned his hands against my shoulders.

“When I'm through with you, you will beg me to have you any way I so please, and you will call me master.”

More cloth tore. I growled, incoherent in my fury that despite utilizing my full strength, I fell to him like a mewling babe. Renaud shifted his knee off my back and yanked my hips up as he pressed my face against the ground, his robes rustling.

“You have one choice, halfling,” he said. “Hmm. . .never mind. You have no choices.”

He opened my thighs and shoved inside.

Screaming, I arched my back at the violent invasion. No foreplay other than the chase, the seduction of his voice. No preparation other than my constant craving for his hands on my body.

It hurt; it was meant to hurt. His claim punched me in the middle; and that was intended as well.

He stole breath and will as he stole my body, sliding his hands beneath to grasp my breasts; digging claws into my flesh the way I needed; drawing blood, stoking desire as he pinched and rolled my nipples.

I bucked backwards, trying to push him out of me, trying to meet his violent thrusts. One or the other, or both.

His hips surged in and out with brutal speed Raniel had held back, only the strength of hands now on my hips keeping me still. The thrusts forced my face into the ground, the harpy’s screams tearing bark from nearby trees.

“You,” he said, thrusting, thrusting, “can deny. Me.Nothing.I will take everything from you. Your body, your will, your blood, your love, your womb. I will break you on my fingers and tongue and cock and make you nothing but this—”

He snarled, shifting his angle and going deeper, harder, longer.

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