Page 102 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

The thought sent liquid fire through his veins, quickly followed by an icy jolt of jealousy. Had the others seen her like this? The idea of her with anyone else made his blood boil, his hands itching to destroy, to claim, to possess.

He pushed the thoughts aside. It didn’t matter now. He would ensure she never wanted to look at another again.

As she turned, moonlight caressed the silver strands of her damp hair, creating a halo that caused his chest to tighten. His gaze devoured her, taking in every detail—the graceful slope of her shoulders, the delicate curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric.

How long had this scene played out in his mind? Maybe he should have killed his father sooner.

Her movements were slow and deliberate as she approached him, her eyes locking with his. He found himself ensnared, his body thrumming with anticipation. Her fingers traced along his form, causing a thrill to course through him as they reached for her sword at his hip. She outlined the hilt, then unclasped the weapon from his belt with tantalizing slowness.

With a fluid motion, she bent past him, almost seductively. The scent of lavender and something uniquely her enveloped him, threatening to shatter the fragile control he held over himself.

The soft click of the lock engaging behind him was deafening in the silence of the room.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing this tonight,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear as she placed the sword on the desk next to him.

His lips quirked into a sardonic smile. “Oh? And here I thought you enjoyed a bit of danger in the bedroom.”

Her answering laugh was low and rich. “I think we can manage plenty of danger without the steel, don’t you?”

“Indeed,” he growled, his voice husky with need. “Though I warn you, Sky, I’m not a gentle man.”

“Good,” she replied, her gaze challenging. “I don’t want gentle.”

Perfection.

Her boldness only fueled his need further, and her confidence sparked a fire in him. She was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever wished for. And now she was his and his alone.

His eyes darkened as her hand found his chest, her touch firm yet tantalizing through the fabric of his jacket. She traced a path downward, fingers following the intricate embroidery, making his muscles tense beneath the layers. As she dipped lower, skimming along the edge of his vest to his waistband, his breath caught in his throat. Every deliberate movement of her fingers, even muted by the clothing, sent jolts of electricity through his body.

Gods, if she only knew what she did to him. The heat of her palm seeping through the material, the teasing pressure of her fingertips—it was almost more than he could bear. His control, always so ironclad, was slipping away with each passing second.

When she looked up, a knowing grin playing on her lips, he saw the desire burning in her eyes.

Damn it.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Sky,” he breathed, the single syllable carrying the weight of years of unspoken longing and passion. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

She stepped closer, her hand lifting to cup his cheek, her touch feather-light yet searing him to his very core. “Then let’s play,” she whispered.

When her lips met his, soft and tentative, he thought he might combust on the spot. The kiss was over too soon, leaving him aching, starving for more. A hunger unlike any other consumed him, his hands itching to pull her closer, to devour her, to show her the depths of his desire. But he held back, his hands trembling, afraid that if he took too much, she would run.

Her fingers worked at the golden buttons of his jacket, her movements deliberate and agonizingly slow. “You’re overdressed, Your Majesty,” she teased, her breath hot against his neck. “Or should I say, my King?”

“Careful. Keep that up, and you might not leave this room for days.”

Her eyes sparkled with challenge. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both,” he replied, his hands finally giving in to the urge to touch her. They settled on her waist, the thin fabric of her nightgown doing little to mask the warmth of her skin beneath. “Sky. Are you certain? I won’t be able to stop.”

She paused, looking up at him with those piercing blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for years. “Arye,” she said softly, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Make me yours.”

Her words shattered the last remnants of his control. With a low growl, he claimed her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all the pent-up longing and passion into it. It was a branding, a promise of the pleasures and pain to come. She responded with equal fervor, pressing herself against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with a hunger that mirrored his own.

His hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and plane he had only dared to dream of. The silk of her nightgownwhispered beneath his touch, and he yearned to tear it away, to feel her bare skin against his, to mark her as his forever.

As if reading his mind, she broke the kiss and took a step back, a coy smile playing on her lips. With graceful movements, she reached for the thin straps of her gown, letting the fabric slide off her shoulders and pool at her feet.

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