Page 34 of The Stones for It
Vrath peered down at me, a familiar mocking sneer twisting his features. “Scared, mortal?”
The taunting bastard was drawing this out on purpose.
I bared my teeth. “Never.”
A dark chuckle rumbled the giant beast. “You should be.”
A dagger formed in his raised palm. Gleaming black metal, like all his weapons, and wickedly sharp. A small cross guard separated the blade from the smooth metal hilt, which ended in a pretty onyx gemstone.
A laugh bubbled up; part nerves, part shock. “Aye, scared of yer diddly weapon?”
Instead of the grumpy huff I’d expected, the gargoyle grinned.
That, more than anything, had fearful anticipation shuddering through me.
His wings flared, showing off their dark talons and adding to his already impressive breadth. Muscular shoulders tapereddown to thick biceps and toned forearms. Firm pectorals slabbed his chest. An eight pack of rocky abs carved his middle. All that muscular glory was covered in dove-soft skin that I itched to stroke.
And I knew there was a monster swinging between his tree-trunk thighs, but his collaring grip stopped me from being able to see it.
Maybe I should be more afraid. The dagger only looked small in his giant hands, but was probably a sword in mine.
My throat bobbed against his cool hand as I swallowed.
“Open that bratty mouth of mine.”
I blinked. “What?”
His features tightened into a scowl. “I said, open your mouth. Now.”
My jaw dropped at his arrogant demand.
In a smooth move, he flipped the dagger, the dark blade cutting into his palm, and pressed the onyx gem between my lips.
I startled as he fed more of the hilt into my mouth, slicing himself in the process. His features gave nothing away except an intensity that should have terrified me, but only made me ache for him.
The cold metal and onyx tasted vaguely like Vrath’s cinnamon scent.
I was tasting hismagic.
Blood-soaked eyes glowed like burning coals from his broad face. They roamed across mine, drinking in every detail as he pushed the smooth hilt right to the cross guard and held it there, pressing down on my tongue. My eyes shot wide as it tickled my gag reflex, and I had to fight to accept the invasion without choking around it.
Between the hand gripping my neck and the dagger down my throat, I couldn’t breathe.
“Good girl,” he rumbled.
Something was clearly wrong with me, because even lightheaded, his praise had me squeezing my thighs together, heat pooling low enough to soak my panties.
Black spots edged my vision, covering the glowing blue moss barely visible around the imposing gargoyle holding me captive.
He tugged the dagger out, and I heaved for precious oxygen. My eyes watered, blurring the giant gargoyle towering over me.
He leaned down, and his forked tongue lapped at the tears wetting my cheeks, even as blood from his cut palm trickled onto my chest.
“Such a good little mortal for me,” he rumbled. “My pretty mate.”
The contrast between his sweet praise and his dripping blood, from the dagger he’d made me suck, was threatening to melt my brain.
His addictive, earthy scent enveloped me, making my mouth water even more.
