Page 58 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Something in him changes. He softens just enough to melt against me, trapping me against the trellis again. The hard length of his erection digs into my hip. He wants me so badly, but like Legion, something holds him back. Unlike his First, Styx lets his emotions out to play. He idly toys with my hair around my ear, anger still simmering in his dark gaze. I let him catch his breath, let him trail his finger along my jawline. But when his eyes lock with mine, he’s nowhere near calm—just contained.
He nuzzles my cheek with his nose, dipping his chin, scraping my skin with the spikes over his brows. I gasp. But it’s from surprise, not pain. He wields himself with finesse, dancing on the knife’s edge of rough. I hold my breath as the sharp scrape moves back up.
“Let’s get this straight, fangs.” His voice is intimate and deep as his lips move against my cheek. “We might both have horns and a tail, but I know how to use mine.”
Something lashes about my ankles, tugging me off balance—his tail. I want to see, but he crowds me with his wings, arms, and body, being my world.
“He’s the cute one.” He drags his tongue up the side of my face. “I’m the bad one.”
“Still not scared,” I breathe, less sure than last time.
“You should be.”
Chapter 25
Willow
Iam trapped between Styx’s indomitable body and a castle. The night is cold, but I feel none of it. Only heat as his teasing tongue starts a leisurely exploration of my cheek, tasting, kissing along to nibble my earlobe. “I’m not going to love you like they do.”
At first, my heart sinks when I think he’s rejecting me—just like Legion. But something in his tone gives me pause. I see the image of his dejected face after Bodin and Legion made me come. He felt left out, and then I publicly claimed him with violence. Something he seemed to enjoy. And then I went and apologized for it, taking it back.
Maybe he’s not angry because he’s ashamed of his otherness but because he’d hoped to find a mate who loved him as he was. Someone who doesn’t like to hide behind shadows, but someone who shouts their emotions from the rooftops.
I push him back to look into his eyes. “You think I’m sorry for claiming you?”
A flash of that hurt. Then it’s gone. “I don’t care what you think.”
“Then why did you ask if I liked what I saw?” My eyebrow arches as I take his still-hard erection and squeeze. “Admit it.”
“You admit it,” he groans breathily, thrusting into me.
“I mean, it’s okay.” I lick my lips, fingers clenching around his length as if I’m testing the girth. “A little on the small side.”
His brows raise, then slam down as he growls, “You won’t say that when I’m pushing into your tight hole.”
“Maybe.”
He tenses. I stifle a smile. His buttons are too easy to push.
“Maybe?” He pauses. Thinks. Then his lips curve wickedly. “I mean theothertight hole, fangs.”
Hot, liquid heat snakes through my body as his palms glide around my hips, heading toward my rear. My heart races. I know where he’s going. I can stop him. But I don’t want to. I hold my breath as his fingers curl between my buttocks, pushing against the dress’s barrier until he hits my back entrance, making me whimper.
“There?” I whisper, a little turned on. A little nervous.
“Scared yet?”
“No.”
I stroke him through his pants. They’re looser with his tail out. Must have ripped through the seam when he shifted. But it gives me the freedom to pump harder, faster.
He makes a strangled sound deep in his throat. His entire body exhales against me. His wings rustle and settle into a beautiful mantle along his shoulders, talons like draconic pauldrons. The dark, silken lengths spread out behind him on the snow as he gifts me with a moment of trust, a gentle interlude. This feels more like an embrace now, his chin resting on my shoulder. His fingers on my ass gather my dress in slow, walking increments. His tail loosens its hold around my ankles and slides up my legs, lifting my dress for his fingers to slip beneath.
“Your ass is mine, Willow,” he mutters hoarsely, breath hot on my ear. “When you’re ready to admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re our queen.”
