Page 101 of Lana Pecherczyk
He took in their prison—the locked door, the sex toys wobbling on the table, the ritual requirements laid out like a checklist of his inadequacies. Everything about this situation was his fault. His family’s interference. His inability to protect her from this. His weakness was in wanting her despite knowing she deserved better.
“Blake…”
Her name came out like a prayer, heavy with everything he couldn’t say. But like every time he tried to open up, nothing came out.
He was a coward.
The need to let it all out clawed beneath his skin. He longed for someone to share his pain with, but how could he do that to someone he cared about? How could he articulate all the feelings he avoided for good reason?
His emotions were a storm without wings to ride it.
“Can I ask you to do something?” Blake’s voice was hesitant.
“Of course.” He was powerless to do anything but wait for her instructions. If she wanted to stay in this van for longer, but they missed the Great Murder, he’d do it. If she asked him to get down on his knees, on broken glass, he would. But if she asked him to leave … he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away.
As it turned out, she wanted something far less dramatic. She lifted a cut finger in front of his face. “Kiss it better?”
Laughter burst out of him, and he brought her fingertip to his lips. The strangest thing happened when he kissed it—he found his courage.
“I know you think being with me is a joke.” His lips bumped over her skin. “But I’ll prove I’m someone you can rely on. Someone worthy of being your mate.”
Her gasp needled him.
“I don’t think you’re a joke,” she said.
“You said so earlier. I believe your exact words were, ‘What a fucking joke.’ I felt your disgust, Blake. And it’s okay. I get it.”
“That’snotwhat I meant.” She shook her head, anger flashing in her eyes. “I keep saying the wrong thing. Saying mate to everyone was normal five days ago, but it’s causing so much trouble now. I’m angry at me, River, not you. In case you haven’t noticed—” She folded her arms, shrinking in on herself. “I’m not adjusting very well.”
“Only days ago, you were married to someone else. Now you’re expected to be with someone like me.”
She jabbed him in the pectoral. “You’re not as bad as you think.”
“Yeah.” His chin dipped. “I am.”
She stared at him with far too much understanding, seeing parts no one else had. It scared the shit out of him. He pushed away, intending to find clean clothes, but her hand snaked out and grasped his wrist.
“I get that it’s too painful for you to share your emotions with me.” She tugged him back to her. “I won’t push it, but I need to know. Why do you avoid being with me? I mean—” She hesitated. “Should I dress differently? Should I work on understanding why I haven’t developed magic? Should I have picked something a little bit wilder?” She glanced nervously at the basket.
He gaped. “You’re actually considering this?”
“I mean…” She sniffed. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
“You’re blushing.” He brushed her colored cheek with his thumb, marveling. His gaze dipped to her lips and found themparted, panting ever so slightly, nervous or scared, or … was that her desire he detected trickling through their bond? “Tell me, Sparkles, what’s making you so nervous?”
“You’reobviouslymore experienced than me…”
“Why do you think that?”
“Oh, fuck off,” she scoffed. “I might be younger, but I’m not dumb. You’re sex on a stick. Just look at you.” She swept her appreciative gaze over his body, biting her lower lip when she reached his abdomen. He bit back a groan as his damned divining cock tried to burst through the towel for her attention, but her gaze had already returned to his face. “River, I lived around blokes who played professional footy for years, but your muscles are so big and shredded that you’d wipe the field with them.”
“I’m not sure that makes sense.”
“Don’t even get me started on your sexy scars and tattoos. My point is, you look likethat, and you’ve lived for almost three hundred years. Going by what’s in that kink basket and your family’sveryliberal way of life, I’m guessing crow shifters aren’t afraid to explore their sexuality. Often.” She took a deep breath as if steeling her resolve. “Mate, I’m fucking nervous because my experience pales in comparison. I mean, shit, you have a dildo the size of a King Brown snake in there. I’ve had one dick inside my vagina—ever—and let me tell you”—she snort-laughed—“he ain’t no King Brown.”
Any blood left in River’s head flowed south. His brain stopped working. He couldn’t understand half of what she said. He would have stopped her right there and kissed her until she whimpered, but she was on a roll.
Another self-deprecating snort slipped out of her, and she rolled her eyes. “Take yesterday, for instance. I was all hot and bothered watching you fight, wishing it was me beneath you instead of that owl shifter, fantasizing about you pinning me andhalf-choking me while you had your way with…” She trailed off when she finally noticed his face, the raw hunger bleeding from his every pore. “Um. How naive of me, right? Ha ha. I mean, that’s the lamest fantasy, right? I mean … fuck. I keep saying, ‘I mean.’”
