Page 30 of Her Fallen Angel

They scramble away, and I release Aren's chin. But she stays staring up at me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was watching me with longing. Or maybe I'm just hopeful.

But I can't take my eyes off of her. Can't let her away from me at all. Not for the rest of the afternoon or that night either.

Even as the moons rise, I find myself watching her sleep again. The light streaming through my windows catches on her dark waves, spread across the pile of cushions I've added to her pallet. I tell myself it's about maintaining control, about ensuring my property remains where she belongs. But my chest tightens as she shifts in her sleep, murmuring something too soft to catch.

This possessiveness is about ownership. Nothing more. I repeat it like a mantra as I add another blanket to her pallet, careful not to wake her. The softness of her breathing fills the silence, and I force myself to turn away before I can acknowledge how it soothes something raw inside me.

During dinner,Aren sinks to the floor next to me, head bowed just enough to show respect while maintaining that infuriating core of dignity. But it's not what I want anymore. I want more from her.

"Come here." I push my chair back from the table.

Her breath catches, but she obeys, allowing me to pull her onto my lap. The silk of her dress whispers against my leatherpants. She's light - too light. I've noticed she barely touches her meals when left to her own devices.

"Open." I press a piece of roasted meat to her lips. Her jaw clenches for a fraction of a second before she parts them, accepting the morsel. "Good girl."

She shivers as I trail my fingers along her throat, feeling her swallow. My cock is instantly hard from the sight, and I feel my restraint slipping. I want to make her. To make her mine.

I gather her dark waves aside, exposing the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. Her pulse jumps beneath my touch. She tastes like sunlight when I drag my teeth across her skin, marking her with bruises that will bloom purple by morning. Mine.

"Kai," she whispers, trembling against my chest. But I know she doesn't fear me - no, my little flame still burns with that quiet defiance. But her body betrays her, even as she tries to hide it.

I feed her another bite, watching her throat work. Fuck, it's messing with my head - that one little action alone. "You're mine, little flame. Every inch of you belongs to me." My fingers trace the line of her jaw, down to where my marks are already darkening her tan skin. "Never forget that."

She doesn't answer, but she doesn't need to. The way she shakes in my arms, trying to maintain her composure even as I brand her with my touch, tells me everything. I continue feeding her between marking her neck, ensuring everyone who sees her tomorrow will know exactly who she belongs to.

Her pulse flutters beneath my fingers as I tighten my grip on her throat. Just enough pressure to remind her who's in control, but not enough to truly restrict her breathing. Aren's head falls back against my shoulder, exposing more of that delicate neck.

The sound she makes - somewhere between a whimper and a moan - sends fire through my blood. My wings curl forwardinstinctively, caging her against my chest. The candlelight catches on the marks I've left on her skin. But it's the way she responds that makes my grip tighten.

She should be fighting. Should be trying to maintain that infuriating dignity she wraps around herself like armor. Instead, she arches into my touch, seeking more even as she trembles.

"What are you doing to me, little flame?" The words scrape from my throat before I can stop them.

My free hand slides down her side, feeling the way she shivers. Part of me wants to squeeze until she breaks, until that inner light finally gutters out. But the thought of her spirit dimming makes something in my chest constrict painfully.

Her fingers clutch at my forearm - not trying to pull away, but anchoring herself as she presses back against me. The silk of her dress does nothing to hide how her body responds to my touch.

"Please," she breathes, and for once there's no calculation in her submission. No strategic compliance or hidden defiance. Just pure need.

I growl low in my throat, tightening my grip until she gasps. "Please what?"

"I don't- I can't-"

"You can't what?" My teeth graze her ear. "Can't admit you want this? That you crave being owned?"

She shudders, nails digging into my arm. The scent of her arousal fills my lungs, mixing with the incense from her earlier prayers. It's intoxicating - this willing submission from someone who refuses to truly break.

But I draw it out a little longer. I want her begging for me, desperate for me. That's why I denied her in the bath and why I deny her now as I tell her to stand. I rise from the table, looking over her body before stalking off to find a way to distract myself.

Before I become so addicted to this woman I can't breathe without her.

Once the moons are high in the sky, and I'm certain she'll be asleep, I prowl through the halls of my townhouse. I know that I'll stay up watching her, wanting her, and that the time apart did me no good. The taste of Aren's skin lingers on my tongue, along with the memory of her desperate pleas.

A whispered voice draws me to the courtyard. Through the glass doors, I spot Aren kneeling in the grass, her dark hair spilling down her back like ink. The sight of her in nothing but her thin nightdress, bent forward like she wants me to take her, stirs something primal in my chest.

"Please," she breathes, hands clasped before her. "I don't understand these feelings. He should revolt me. Everything he stands for, everything he's done..."

My fingers curl into fists. How dare she- but then her next words freeze me in place.

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