Page 54 of Cursed Shadows 1

Just the thought of them, the memories—

A sudden surge reaches through him.

His grunts turn into a groan so feral and desperate that the female beneath him clenches her hold on his cock, and he feels the flutters of climax shudder through her.

He comes fast.

But the rage, the desire… it still stirs within him like a beast rousing from slumber.

He allows himself just a few moments to catch his breath. He’s on a time limit in here. If he had her, the real her… he wouldn’t be done with her until neither of them could walk.

But he can’t.

Nari would have him, she would manipulate him with her sex so willingly. And if they fuck… he can’t deliver his revenge.

So all he has is the imposter.

With a grunt, Daxeel pushes back onto his knees.

Still sat between her spread legs, he snatches her waist and, not too gently, flips her around.

She lands on her back with a bounce and—her cheeks are flushed. That blush steals his attention, his fucking soul, and he watches every spec of it start to fade from crimson to pink. Remnants of her climax. He aches to kiss it, lick it, bite it off her wickedly beautiful face.

All he does is let a growl rumble through him before he’s pushing between her spread legs and slamming into her again. He doesn’t drape himself over her—there’s no love or affection to be found in how he pounds into her, in how firmly his hands grip her spread thighs, keeping them apart.

And he only lets himself look down at her heat. Pink, like her blush. He doesn’t dare risk looking up at her face, not with that beastly rage burning within him.

Still, he allows himself something. A hand to leave her thigh and slide up to her stomach. There, he holds tight, as if to pin her down, hold her in place. But his thumb is what betrays him—and his eyes that watch the freckle beside her bellybutton, how the pad of his thumb brushes over it like trying to steal it away.

A tender moment he allows himself between the rough thrusts that take him all the way to his second climax. And when he comes for the second time, his thumb digs into that freckle.

He stays like that for a bit. Head dropped, black hair brushed over his sweaty forehead, his chest rising and falling with his harsh breaths. And he stares at that blemish.

He noticed it on her when he first saw her.

The black phoenix who danced. The one slick with feathers and barely any clothes at all, the little halfbreed who thought she was making a fierce statement against him and his kind, and then the one who faltered too fast when she saw him watching her. A coward at the core of it all. He knew then she was something spoilt, a bit on the bratty side.

He didn’t mind.

What he did mind was later. After some lessons, after he broke that weasel lordson’s nose, then stole his female, and she came to challenge him on the sparring ring…

That night, he almost fell at her feet.

He wasn’t the only one, though.

She caught a lot of eyes that night.

Nari, little halfbreed, wandering her way over to him on the sparring ring, challenginghimto a duel. If he was taken by her before…

She had a spell on him like no other he’d ever felt. It wasn’t just the way she toyed with that dagger in her hands, a way that made him think of something else entirely between her slender fingers, and it wasn’t that wicked and seductive smile and bat of the lashes as she advanced on him.

No, it was her words. Her teasing, her mocking—she approached him with such fearless seduction that she didn’t even bother to veil around more of his kind, or even the light ones that watched.

Daxeel sensed it then, the threats around him. The threat of other dokkalf males responding to her, wanting her.

Mine.

Mine.

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