Page 17 of Lord of Dance and Desire

“I only meant that?—”

Constin hissed. “Just be quiet, Anah.”

Andrei moved forward, and Constin leaped.

He couldn't bring Andrei down at first, though he tried. But the High Lord stopped, allowing Constin to slip behind him, wrap an arm around his neck and hold him in a lock. Andrei’s shoulders and chest bunched as if he fought the urge to lunge forward.

I blinked as Constin’s free hand slid around Andrei's torso, down, and under the band of his leggings, gripping the erection I’d barely noted in favor of watching emerging fangs.

Gripping, and stroking. I jerked my gaze up to Constin, but there was no sex in his eyes, only grim focus.

“He's slipped the leash a little, darling,” Constin said, voice still a calm whisper. “Court, and then—well, one of us can give him sex, or one of us can give him blood. It's your choice. But those are the only two options that will calm him back from the edge.”

“He was fine last night.” We’d cuddled in bed, no sex, though I didn’t think he’d slept.

Constin’s eyes slashed me. “He was not fine. And we were monitoring.”

I suppressed a rare urge to curse. I’d been doing that a lot more lately. “When you say one of us, does that include me?”

A sound released from Andrei's chest, the combination of a growl and a purr. A predator trying to sound enticing. Epic fail, except it really wasn’t.

“It includes you,” Constin said. “But if you don't want to risk him in this state, we will handle him. We heal faster.”

There was too much grim at the corners of Constin’s eyes, in the downturn of his mouth. They'd handle him, but there would be consequences.

“Let him go,” I said.

“I’ll release him on one condition. Sheathe the baby diva claws, darling. Play possum tonight. Can you do that?”

I bit my lip. “I just won't talk.” I kept saying the wrong thing, but not on purpose.

“Not talking might be for the best,” Mathen muttered behind me. “I'm not leaving her alone with him like this.”

“Nor am I,” Constin said. Then he released the kraken.

Andrei crossed the room in two soundless leaps and took me to the ground. I screamed, a short sound more startled than afraid.

“I don't own you?” he whispered in my ear, pressing his full weight into me, nudging my knees apart to cradle him. “I own your breath, I own your tears. I own every scream you make whether you're climaxing under me or on your own fingers.”

My body clenched. He’s slipped the leash a little, Constin had said.

. . .unhinged was their version of a little.

“I own your pain when you fall, and your joy when you rise. I'll own the blood between your thighs when you birth our children, and the milk from your breast will be mine too.”

His hand cradled the back of my head, obscenely gentle, because there was nothing gentle in his eyes.

“You’re mine. And you’re merely human. You’ll never be strong enough to challenge me. Do not forget what I am.”

Blinking back tears of frustrated rising fury, I snapped, “A monster?”

The glazed look in his eyes sharpened and?—

The adolescent bond between us flung wide, flooding me with sensation. I screamed, my back arching as his thoughts, his emotions, his needs and wants, his hopes. . .his fears. All of them seized me, enveloped me in a cocoon that allowed no room for writhing.

But underneath the animalistic fury, possessiveness, need to claim and fuck and mark, was a helpless, melting tenderness. A piercing core of love as hard, as brilliant, as cutting and resolute as a diamond. As beautiful. Birthed in fire and pressure.

I wanted to spit anyway.

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