Page 105 of Seer Prophet

Looking at him, I realized in some bewilderment no one told him about Terian.

Or if they had, he wasn’t reacting anything like I thought he would.

I’d expected him to be angry. Not at me necessarily, but I definitely expected him to come in hot. I expected him to grill me about what happened. I figured he’d want to know every single detail of what Terian said. I figured he’d want to read my memories, too.

He moved away from the door.

He did it casually, with that deceptive, cat-like gait.

Clicking softly under his breath, he walked to the table. He set down the covered tray. When he straightened, I gave him a pointed look.

“Is that breakfast?” I asked.

He gave me a wan smile.

“Coffee?” I pressed.

He nodded.

“Took you long enough,” I scolded. “What in the gods were you doing for so long?”

He didn’t slow his cat-like steps.

As he walked, he reached for the back of his shirt collar. He pulled it over his head, not slowing his unhurried walk. After he tossed it on the floor by the bed, he kicked off his shoes, still studying my face.

Frowning at the sheet wrapped half around my body, he leaned down, grasping hold of it tightly in one hand.

“Revik,” I warned. “If you think you’re getting any, after leaving me here for two hours, you can think again.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m notrewardingyou for this,” I retorted. “I don’t care how much you mess with my light. So you might not want to put anything of yours too close to my mouth.”

His lips twitched.

“Noted.”

His light slid into mine and I bit my lip, caught off guard by a liquid surge of pain.

I fought to control it, to control my light, but I couldn’t.

By the time I could see again, he was yanking the sheet sharply off my legs and torso, half-pulling me down the bed. I bit my lip, tried to decide if I wanted to fight him, if I was angry or mostly in pain, if I was worried about his reaction to the Terian thing, or some combination of all those things, plus frustration around our aborted conversation of the night before.

He caught hold of my ankle before I could make up my mind.

Instead of pulling me towards him, he pushed my foot backwards on the bed, forcing me to bend my knee. Grabbing my other foot, he did the same on that side, forcing apart my ankles. Within seconds, I had my back to the headboard, my cuffed arm pinned behind me, my other hand gripping the pillow I sat on.

Still gripping my ankles, he yanked my feet wider apart, pulling himself closer on the mattress. Before I could decide exactly how I wanted to react to this new development, he had his mouth on me.

Then he had his tongue on me.

Then he had it in me.

It was really, really hard to yell at him while he was doing that.

He forced my legs wider, and my light flared.

As I leaned into the wall, he slowed what he was doing, using his light with a slow deliberation that was maddening. He let out a low gasp when he felt me start to open, then he was doing things I’d taught him. He mostly did them to get me to open more… light things, physical things, things I learned from the Lao Hu.

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