Page 27 of Chaos
The answer floated through my mind, there and gone before I had a chance to latch onto it.
Malice strode across the room, shocking me when he slid his palm around the back of my neck and pulled me to him.
“Do you think we were successful,ma petite?” he asked, his lips brushing my ear, the sensation making me shudder in pleasure.
“With what?”
He laughed, full and carefree, and I was struck by the sight. I’d already known Malice was hot; I could have been blind and known that much. But he was always so weighed down by the tragedy of his past. I’d never seen him truly happy before. It was stunning. Like beams of sunlight bursting through the clouds after a storm.
His other hand pressed to my middle as he brought his lips to mine. Then he pulled back and whispered, “I think we were.”
Oh my gawd. My whole body lit up. Did I have an undiscovered breeding kink?
“Perhaps,” I murmured, unsure what else to say.
“And if we weren’t, we’ll simply have to try again.” He nibbled at my neck, his short beard tickling me in the most delightful way before his arms tightened around me andhe sighed. “I’d suggest right now, but we’re already behind schedule.”
I leaned into him, giving myself over to the wildest dream my subconscious had ever crafted before reaching around and cupping his most excellent ass, even through the fabric of his ridiculous pantaloon things. “I think we can be fashionably late. It won’t take too long to make sure your efforts aren’t wasted.”
A low growl of frustration left him. “I have wondered many times if you might be a witch, my sweet Merri. Now I know it’s the truth.”
Uh-oh. I may not be a historian, but I’d watched Outlander. I knew what happened to witches, and it was never anything good.
“Am not.”
He chuckled. “Are so. But don’t worry, that simply makes you my most perfect bride. Pestilence and his wicked little witch.”
Okay, so he was French but still a horseman. Good to know. Did that mean I was still a succubus?
I reached for my power, sending out a few tendrils of lust to see if I could get us back to the fake baby making.
“Mmm, you are playing with fire, ma femme.” His words were more tortured groan than anything, and he rocked his hips in response.
“Take those off so I can feel you... my lord.” What? I was trying it on for size. When in Rome. Er... France?
He began tugging at the laces of my bodice, lips trailing over the swells of my breasts as he worked to help me out of this getup. Oh fuck. I really wanted him to touch me right now. I craved his caresses and tender affection.
“Merde, one day they will figure out how to make undressing simpler.”
I snickered. “You could always just toss my skirt over my head.”
“Tempting.” He palmed my ass through my voluminous skirts and gave it a squeeze. “But I wish to gaze at your entire beautiful body,ma chérie. You are a gift. I want to tuck you into the space between my heartbeats so you never have to doubt that it beats only for you.”
Jee-zus. When did Malice get so swoony?
“I’m sorry. Are you... in love with me or something?”
He laughed and fucking nuzzled my neck. “But of course,mon petit chat d'enfer.”
Did he just call me his little demon cat? Seriously. When did I learn French?
All of a sudden a lightbulb went off in my mind. I didn’t know French. Malice did. This wasn’t my dream. It was his.
What the actual fuck.
I sat up in my bed with a gasp. My breasts ached for his touch, and my body hummed from the memory of his lips on my skin and the sweetness in his words. Disappointment rushed in like the tide when I realized I’d broken free of the beautiful dream and was never going to get to see that side of Malice again. The only comfort I had was knowing he had that side at all.
If it was his dream, then those were his actual words and subconscious desires.
