Page 41 of Bound In Shadow

She clenches her jaw, her body trembling. "I want you to stop talking and fuck me."

I chuckle darkly, then grip her hips and slam into her in one brutal thrust.

She cries out, her back arching, her cunt clamping around me like a vise. "Gods?—!"

"You fit me like a glow, so wet and warm," I grit out, my voice rough with restraint. "So fucking exquisite."

I pull out almost all the way before driving into her again, setting a punishing rhythm. The bed creaks beneath us, the sound lost beneath her gasps and my ragged breaths. Every snap of my hips is a retaliation, a claim, a punishment—for the way she’s tormented me, for the way she makes me want her despite every reason not to.

Her fingers twist in the sheets, her body rocking with each thrust. "Is this—ah!—what you wanted?" she pants, her voice laced with venom. "To fuck me like some conquest?"

I lean over her, my chest pressed against her back, my lips at her ear. "No," I growl. "I wanted to ruin you. But you’re ruining me right back."

She lets out a broken moan as I reach around, my fingers finding her clit, circling roughly. Her breath comes in sharp, desperate gasps, her walls fluttering around my cock.

"Come for me," I command. "Let me feel you fall apart."

She shakes her head, but her body betrays her, her hips grinding back against me, taking me deeper. "I hate—I hate that you—" Her words dissolve into a cry as her orgasm crashes over her, her cunt squeezing me so tight it nearly wrings my own release from me.

I grit my teeth, holding back just long enough to flip her onto her back, dragging her legs over my shoulders before plunging into her again. Her eyes fly open, her lips parting in a silent gasp as I fuck her harder, deeper, my cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars.

“Fuck you, Xelith! Damn you!” she moans, her back arching off the bed.

"Look at me," I snarl. "Look at me when I make you come again."

Her gaze locks onto mine,defiance and pleasure warring in her expression. "I’ll hate you forever for this," she breathes.

I smirk, thrusting harder. "Good."

Her second climax hits her like a storm, her body arching off the bed, her nails scoring down my arms. The sight of her unraveling—panting, flushed, mine—sends me over the edge. With a groan, I bury myself deep inside her, spilling into her with a shuddering release.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air. Then, slowly, reality seeps back in.

She exhales, her body limp beneath mine. "This changes nothing," she mutters, but her voice lacks its usual bite.

I pull out, rolling onto my back beside her, staring at the flickering shadows on the ceiling. "No," I agree. "It doesn’t."

She shifts, rolling onto her side. She doesn’t speak. I sense the torrent of thoughts behind her gaze, the war betweenloathing me and craving what we just shared. My chest clenches with a strange ache. I brush a thumb over her cheek, a small, uncertain gesture.

She flinches at first, then closes her eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. “This changes nothing,” she repeats softly. There’s an edge of desperation in her tone, as if trying to convince herself more than me.

“I know,” I reply, voice rasping. “We’re still… on opposite sides.” My heart twists, because that statement feels less certain now. But I won’t force illusions of unity when the entire fortress hunts her kind.

A wry laugh escapes her, lacking humor. “Right.” She rubs a hand over her face, then sits up, gathering the sheets to cover herself. Tension creeps back into the lines of her shoulders. “We should… check the corridors. The assassins, remember?”

My stomach drops, remembering the very real danger. “Yes, of course.” I push up, scanning the room. My clothes lie scattered, the cloak flung aside. Heat creeps up my neck at how lost in the moment we were. I retrieve my breeches, tug them on, ignoring the swirl of complicated emotion. She dresses more slowly, wincing at a bruise on her thigh.

I drag my fingers through my hair, trying to gather composure. “Rhazien set up extra patrols. But let’s see what’s transpired in our absence.” The wards should have alerted me if an intruder approached, yet I can’t ignore the possibility that some cunning assassin found a loophole.

She nods mutely, still avoiding my eyes. My chest tightens—something inside me wants to reach out, to reassure her. But the moment for gentleness is gone. The reality of our predicament surges back, stark and uncompromising.

We slip out, stepping into the corridor that leads to the antechamber. Two guards stand at attention, looking surprised to see us together. Their gazes dart to Lysandra, then away,clearly uneasy. I maintain a regal bearing, refusing to let them see any disarray.

“Report,” I command, voice firm.

One guard bows. “No intruders spotted, my prince. Patrols have rotated as instructed. Lord Nyrus was seen earlier, but he left the wing a while ago, looking… distracted.”

I exchange a glance with Lysandra, recalling how she enthralled him the previous day. So far, it seems he hasn’t pieced together the truth.A small blessing.

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