Page 127 of A Forgotten Promise

As the fog slowly dissipates, so does my euphoria. “Fuck, Corm.” I sit up and almost collapse, my head swirling from the sudden movement. “Condom.”

He looks at me with a lazy smile and shrugs.

What the hell? I raise my hand to slap him, but he catches my wrist and pulls me to him.

I struggle to wriggle away, so he rolls us over and covers me with his huge body, holding my wrists above my head.

I thrash, trying to get away from him, but it’s a lost battle. “You knew! You did it on purpose. I don’t fucking want your STDs.”

He chuckles and lets his body sink a bit, practically suffocating me. If I wasn’t so mad, I would actually enjoy his warmth and, as much as I hate to admit to myself, the show of power.

“Calm down. I didn’t plan it. I realized once I was in. I don’t have STDs.”

“What if I have any?” I spit the stupid argument.

“Then I have them too now.” His expression is completely nonchalant, no smirk, no mocking.

“Are you out of your mind? That was irresponsible.”

“It was. From both of us,” he says calmly. That shuts me up for a beat, because yes, it’s not just his responsibility.

“But you were the one who remembered, and you decided for both of us that it was okay?”

Fuck, his scent is distracting. And his warmth. His breath so close to my face.

He kisses my forehead. “Pretty much.”

I growl in frustration. “What if I get pregnant?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

I writhe, or attempt to, but it’s impossible to move under him. “Let me go, Corm. What, do you have some breeding kink?”

He pinches my chin between his thumb and finger. “I have a you kink, The Morrigan.”

Chapter 23

Corm

She glares at me with a venom that might truly poison a weaker person. I should apologize, or admit I was wrong. But fuck if it didn’t feel right.

“You’re crazy.” She tries to yank her hands from my hold, but I’m not ready to let go.

I need her to understand she’s mine, even if it currently requires my brute force. And I don’t want her to kill me, which certainly looks the case at the moment.

“I’m crazy, Saar. And the source of my madness is the woman who waltzed into my room two years ago. She was completely out of her depth, but felt such an inspiring loyalty to her asshole brother that she dared to demand I get rid of a lucrative property. That was the day I decided you were mine.”

I expect her to roll her eyes, to scoff, to fight, but she just stares at me. And not that I would ever admit that to anyone, but this may be the first time in my life my confidence falters.

I’m holding her trapped, her chest moving with effort, her breath on my face, her heart beating against me. I know I should give her space, but I can’t. I fear she may run.

I can’t let her slip, so I’m abusing my strength and forcing her to give me something. Anything.

Whatever it is she is willing to give. I don’t know how much time, or lifetimes, pass while she just stares at me, but as each moment slides by, I feel my prison sentence is getting worse.

Or better, if the prison is shared with Saar. She’s holding my heart in her hand, and based on our past few weeks, she’s probably considering how to squash it.

She licks her lips. She swallows. She takes a breath. Everything amplified. Everything in slow motion.

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