Page 66 of Heirs of the Cursed

But that night was entirely different. She wasn’t afraid of the commander’s presence, but about what she desired him to do. Even after walking away from him on the Night of the Tides, her heart had ached with a possibility she refused to acknowledge—that he cared for her. In his own twisted way, Ward had protected her from the madam. He’d set his priorities aside to defend her against the Bellmarians who had refused to allow her entrance to the library.

Despite the anger that coursed through Naithea’s veins, a twisted, dark part of her craved him enough to set her morals aside. She was anxious because she’d fantasized about this moment for a long time and had gone to sleep mad at herself over the guilt of yearning for a man who hid a beast.

Because somehow, he was a reflection of her.

Trained to act and not feel.

Ordered to obey, but never truly free.

A few steps away, Ward scanned the room intently, is midnight-blue eyes taking in the emerald walls and the uneven white streaks of skipped paint above the headboard. He took a few seconds to admire the bed, spacious enough for two bodies to fit and do all sorts of perversions during a night of passion and lust.

Naithea was frozen in place as she watched him discard his weapons and lay back on the mattress. His gaze swept over her body under the revealing dress. In them, she found something more than desire: a struggle within himself, one that he didn’t seem ready to fight.

“Let’s get this over with,” Naithea said, moving away from the door.

The mist in the commander’s eyes dissipated just in time to see Naithea moving her hands up her body until she reached the sleeves of her dress. The fabric peeled away from her skin and revealed her firm, round breasts.

Naithea walked to him with ponderous slowness, pulling the veil away from her face to drop it next to her feet. But before she could take another step, Ward lunged forward to catch the fabric of her dress, stopping her from exposing the rest of her body and pushing one of the sleeves back into place.

“As much as I desire this, it won’t happen.”

She looked at him with wide eyes and arched eyebrows. “So you paid for my services to belittle me?”

Ward placed the other sleeve over her shoulder, taking all the time in the world to caress her skin with his fingers. Her stomach turned in anticipation.

“I don’t plan to touch a hair on your head until you really want me to, love,” he whispered next to her ear. “And you will. You’ll be so desperate for my hands that you won’t be able to find pleasure in yourself without thinking of me.”

Naithea’s heart raced at his words. He hadn’t even touched her and she could already feel the heat growing between her legs.

Her job had ruined sex for her. While she had had some pleasant encounters with men before, none had ever ignited that consuming, primal pleasure her sisters whispered about. Yet she couldn’t escape the sharp, exquisite ache at her core, the burn that only deepened the more she crossed her legs in her failed attempt to stifle it. In vain, because all it did was intensify the desperate longing to feel the commander’s hands, the weight of him against her.

“You have a disgustingly filthy mouth,” Naithea whispered.

“There are many ways this filthy mouth can please you,” Ward assured her, looking down at her lips. “Far more than any dryad man has before.”

“You think you know everything about my sex life because I’m a whore, but maybe you’re wrong, Commander,” she blurted out, haughtily. “I don’t like you, so don’t think this is anything but my obligation.”

“Is that why you’re crossing your legs,Naithea?”

Her toes curled in her heels as she heard him utter her real name.

Naithea folded her arms over her chest, not knowing what to do with her hands. “I thought you wouldn’t call me that.”

“We’re alone. And the truth is, I want to get used to the sound of your name on my lips before you moan mine,” he admitted with satisfaction.

“There are many names I call out every night and I can pretend to like you as much as you can pretend to care about me.”

Ward watched her silently as she brushed aside the strands of onyx hair covering her shoulder blade to reveal the reminder of her punishment she wore with pride despite it all.

“I suppose words leave less ephemeral marks than scars.”

“The last thing I thought about that day was my image, because all that kept torturing my mind was that I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer. Because, of everything I’ve had to endure, seeing the pain on your face as you surrendered to her was the worst.”

His words ignited a fire in her chest. There was brutal anguish in them, as if he were unfamiliar with such emotions and it was the first time in his life that he’d dared to admit them aloud.

Naithea scanned his face, waiting for him to burst into laughter so she could remind herself the beast he was. If the commander wasn’t a monster, her heart could be in great danger.

A danger she wasn’t ready to surrender to.

---