Page 15 of Iron Bride

I took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in my throat and met the monster’s gaze.

“We need to talk,” he said flatly, his dark brow arching as his wicked little smirk promised terrible—or wonderful?— things.

“About?” I said, in a voice so breathy it sounded like a whisper.

But it was all I could manage.

“Come with me,” he commanded, and walked to the bedroom without looking back, already knowing that I would obey.

And I did. Because what choice did I have?

He strode toward the bedroom, stepping aside at the door to let me through first. I did enter first, even though having the monster at my back made my skin prickle in goosebumps. The electricity in the air made my hair stand on end.

“You look beautiful.” I jumped when his voice was at my ear, heated breath grazing over my skin. His fingers traced the light straps at my shoulders, pushing them down my arms, bringing my camisole to my waist. My bared nipples pebbled in the cold, and I immediately covered them with my hands.

Hetskedlightly, as his hands encircled my wrists, bringing them down.

“So soon, you seem to have forgotten.” He kissed the crook of my neck. Then the bare skin of my shoulder. “Mine.”

He kissed down my back, and I helplessly stood there, my eyes shut, as I tried to phase out of this part. I had always knownthis would happen. Heirs. That was something that our marriage depended on.

I thought that maybe I could just lie back, close my eyes, and let it happen while my mind meditated somewhere else.

But his touch, his kisses, his voice… they kept me rooted in place. My body shivered at the pleasure and fear this man made me feel.

He kissed down my spine, coming to his knees behind me, dragging my camisole and sweatpants down. I wanted to seem as unattractive to him as possible, to buy myself more time from his intoxicating touch. But it hadn’t worked.

He pulled my underwear down too, kissing every new inch of exposed skin until I was naked in front of him, my clothes piled on the floor around my feet.

“Go to the bed, love.”

I didn’t move right away. I couldn’t trust my legs. I couldn’t trust my mind.

I was so confused at how I felt, and what I desired. Did I want this? Maybe. After what he did last night? Probably. But I alsodidn’twant him. I couldn’t develop feelings for my husband. I couldn’t. That would be a disaster.

“To bed.” And there he was again, at my shoulder, whispering like a dark angel, sweetly beckoning me to do terrible things. “Or must I carry you?”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t even if I tried.

He picked me up, and carried me to the bed, laying me down with my head on the pillow.

I felt like I was in a daze. Like a princess in a fairy tale, in awe of her prince.

He pulled the green and silver tie from his throat, and in an instant, fashioned a knot around my wrists, restraining me to the headboard.

“What the—”

“Don’t struggle, darling,” he warned casually. As if he were telling me that a plate was hot, or to mind the curb. “Before you cause yourself more damage.”

He was… different from the night before. He was determined, and sure. Controlled. His fingers traced from my forehead, down my jaw, to my throat. Then he touched the hollow at my clavicle, down the space between my breasts. Right down the middle until he grazed above the new, black stitches that held my torn flesh together.

“Does this hurt, love?” he asked, kissing the skin around the tender flesh.

“No,” I gasped, as his soft lips sent heat down to my core. “And…. And… don’t call me that.”

I tested the silk binds on my wrists, and shuddered when they didn’t give. Not even a millimeter.

“Don’t call you what?”

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