Page 37 of Shadowlands Omega

“I hope not.”

The corner of his mouth twitches right before his claws slice quickly through the rest of the fabric. He fans my tunic open, exposing my torso to his gaze. My breasts aren’t enormous like my sister Zelie’s or even as large as Audet’s, but Lord Yaron looks at them as if they’re the first breasts he’s ever seen in his life and he does not find them lacking. My dark brown nipples are hard as stones. I struggle to stop myself from arching…

“He touched your breasts?” Yaron’s expression twists from something almostlightto furious.

A single claw traces the bruised skin on the underside of my right breast. I shiver as my painfully hard nipples harden further. “I…didn’t realize he had.”

Yaron makes a brutish sound, half roar, half hiss. “Lift your hips.”

“What?”

“Either stand or lift your hips, Kiandah. I need to remove your pants.”

“I…” I don’t move. He’s seen me naked before but I was gone to the heat. I didn’t have time to be self-conscious and I haven’t had a proper bath in weeks. Not to mention what I’ve been through today.

“Now, Kiandah.” He looks up at me, jaw clenched, the muscles within it pulsing. “You truly have not one self-preserving bone in your body, do you?”

I shake my head, then nod, then shrug and shiver again.

“You try to defend a dead man. You defend villagers who attacked and assaulted you. You defend a family that lied to you and committed treason. You defend even Radmilla who should have known that rancid food enteringmyhome is something egregious that should have been brought straight to me. You defend everyone but yourself. And you go even further, Kiandah the selfless. Youcommandmy beast without hesitation. He loves to serve you. But you deny your Lord now.” He comes close to me, closer and closer still. He brushes his stubbled jaw across my shoulder, his lips working their way in towards my neck. “I do not understand you or what cruel god created you and thrust you into my path.”

He bites my neck very softly, but it releases a flood of desire within me and makes me moan aloud. “Up, Kiandah.” He pats my hip twice. “You cannot bathe with your clothes on.” He reaches behind me and turns off the water. The bath is immense, big enough for six, and full to the brim.

“I can bathe myself, my Lord…” He doesn’t feel like Yaron right now. He feels too much, too unwieldy to handle.

“You can, but why would you when you haveyour Lordon his knees begging to do it for you?” His eyes…I can’t look into them for long. His voice is a rumbly whisper that hits me in the thighs. If I could purr like he does sometimes, I would. I’m glad that I cannot. “Let me serve you, Kiandah. Stand for me.”

It’s too much. I’m powerless. I rise shakily from my seat and Yaron doesn’t hesitate to cut the ties of my trousers and push them down over my hips. The filthy material pools around my feet. I don’t dare look down to see his reaction. I keep my gaze fixed on the door at the far end of the room. My hands…I don't know what to do with my hands… I set them lightly on his shoulders, which twitch.

“Do you feel any pain?” he asks after a moment. His fingertips feather over some bruising around my pubic bone and right hip and rib — likely, where I hit the stone fountain. I flinch when he touches a scratch on the top of my thigh, not because it hurts, but because his hands are so hot.

I shake my head and he responds with a low sound. “I do not believe you would tell me if you did. Your desire to protect others is infuriating.” Yaron’s tone drops, filling with heat. His hands wrap around my hips and I can feel each of his hot breaths against my lower belly. “You would protect the scourge of the earth, even when there is no saving them. You would sacrifice your own bones to make me a meal worth eating.”

“I…” His words sound wrong, so hostile, something to be rebuffed. “Is that so wrong?”

“You have power enough to protect yourself. I’veseenit, Kiandah. You protected your family from me in the dungeons. You protectedmefrom the undead in Paradise Hole. You could topple my throne and rule the Shadowlands if you so desired. You could make an ally of Mirage City or, better yet, overthrow the Fates who rule there. You could rule Gatamora.”

I feel his words course through me in a funny way. It’s not that I think he’s mad or wrong or delusional. It’s that…Iknowhe’s wrong and a little mad and only somewhat delusional. He is Lord Yaron and he doesn’t lie. He is a rational, reasonable, beastly male. And these are the things he thinks of me so they must be right. But…they don’t matter. Not even a little. So, while warmth may cascade across each of my cuts and bruises knowing that he sees me this way, I also feel…sorry for him.

I lift my right hand from his hot, powerful shoulder and stroke his hair. My fingers come back stained in blood and I frown softly down at it. “Your hair…” I try to clear my throat, but it’s too scratchy. It’s a wonder he can understand me at all. “It’s greasy. When was the last time you washed it?”

His expression loses its cutting, murderous edge. His pupils blow wide to consume all the grey. “Are you avoiding your chambers? Is your refusal to share quarters with me what has kept you from it?” I tsk, clicking my tongue against the backs of my teeth.

“What are you doing?” He speaks through clenched teeth and I don’t miss the fact that some of those teeth have transformed into fangs.

“Is that it? Have you been avoiding me? Did I guess correctly?” I cough a little, inhaling steam and the scent of blood and sweat from his skin.Heavenly.

“Yes.”

“Do I disgust you that much?”

“You know that isn’t the reason.” His voice is hard, but he doesn’t elaborate. Left with no answer, a small sadness fills me at whatever the true reason might be. My fingers, meanwhile, continue to trace the line of his head, so perfectly shaped, to the back of his neck before following the hard angle of his jaw to his chin.

His pulse is thrumming madly, desperately, and I feel it, this power he’s speaking of. In his presence, it seems easier to reach. When I was on the road, I searched for it and found nothing. Now, I feel it like a ball of liquid magma nested in the pit of my stomach, moving and lurching. I could slip a ladle into it, and drag up a draught.

Curious and amazed, I lift my hand and with only the briefest thought of fire, I manifest pure flame. It appears as a sentient torch in the middle of my palm, no brighter than a candle, but blue at its heart. And it doesn’t burn me.

“Kiandah,” Yaron says, “you see your gift?”

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