Page 16 of Cursed Shadows 3

The thumps of the gown hit the floor around my slippers. And it’s only then that I make to move. Pressing my weight into my hands, I push myself from the vanity table and kick off my slippers. The stockings slip off easily.

Daxeel watches, unmoving, a statue looming over me.

Slowly, I turn to look up at him.

The heat of his eyes sear into mine for only a heartbeat. Then his gaze drops.

It lands on the flimsy cling of the chemise to my breasts.

“You will be trouble,” he murmurs, reaching out his hand for my waist.

I wonder if he’s merely speaking to himself, voicing his thoughts.

His fingers coil into a tight hold on my side. “You will look for loopholes in my commands.”

He steps back.

His hold on my waist draws me with him.

Then he lifts his gaze to me.

His eyes flash. “Guess I’ll just have to be stricter.”

A yelp spears through me.

He throws me away from him.

The floor is swiped out from under me, and I land with a bounce on the bed. I’m staring up at the gold trimmed cerulean ceiling.

I dig my heels into the furs and push myself back; instinct retreating me from him. “Or kinder,” I mutter, small.

He prowls over me.

One hand dips into the mattress, the glisten of ink spearing over his fingers like frail branches of blackness. The touch of his other hand, ghosting fingertips, pushes up the hem of my chemise.

But his eyes are on me, burning holes through my soul.

His upper lip curls over the word, “Kinder.”

He abandons the chemise, now bunched at my waist, exposing me.

Shoving his knee under my thigh, he reaches down for his trousers and tugs himself free.

A twist warps his full lips into something bitter. “You think you deserve my kindness?”

The mattress sways under me with the shift of his weight. The press of his thighs against mine locks me in place.

He fists the shaft, then drags the tip of his cock down my slick core—and the heat of disgrace is fast to flush me, burn my face hot, because too easily, too unashamedly, I am ready for him, and I hate that.

Still, resistance steels me.

Those little scraps of defiance that thrive in me, they flicker like tender flames over my bones.

The push of his cock against me is enough to clench my whole body, tense.

Daxeel doesn’t busy himself with luring out my pleasure, no tongue to roll over me, no fingers to gather my honey—

He doesn’t bother withkindness.

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