Page 86 of Rok's Captive
It’s soft at first, tentative. His lips are warm, and they mold to mine perfectly.
But then something shifts.
A low growl rumbles from his chest, and his hands tighten against my jaw, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that steals the breath from my lungs.
I gasp into him, my fingers tangling in his hair—soft, surprisingly soft—and he groans, the sound vibrating through me.
His lips part mine, his tongue sweeping inside, and I’m lost.
Completely and utterly lost.
Rok kisses me as if he’s starving. As if he wants every part of me.
It’s overwhelming, intense, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. His kiss is wild and consuming, a force of nature that sets every nerve in my body ablaze.
I don’t even realize I’ve wrapped my legs around his waist until he lifts me, his strong arms cradling me as if I weigh nothing.
My thighs tighten around him instinctively, and he staggers forward, pressing me against the cool stone wall.
The contrast between the cold rock and his fiery warmth sends a shiver racing down my spine.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp and he growls again, his lips trailing down my jaw to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. My head tilts back, a moan escaping me as his mouth finds the hollow of my throat.
I’ve never been this turned on in my life.
Wait—didn’t I say that before? Well, I mean it even more now. FUCK.
Every touch, every kiss, every possessive growl makes me burn hotter, my body arching into his as if begging for more.
In the back of my mind, I notice how quickly he’s learned to kiss—how perfectly he’s attuned to my reactions, how he seems to know exactly what I need, what I want.
But then something changes.
He freezes.
At first, I think he’s just catching his breath, but it’s just like before. When he had me quivering after giving me the best orgasm of my life. His entire body stiffens, his hands twitching against my skin.
“Rok?” I whisper, my eyes flying open.
He pulls back slightly, his head tilting as he inhales deeply. His nostrils flare, his glow pulsing brighter for a moment before dimming again.
And then he releases me.
Just like that.
I barely have time to catch myself before he staggers back, his hands flying to his head as he lets out a guttural snarl.
“Rok!” I cry, stumbling forward, but he holds up a hand, stopping me in my tracks.
His glow goes haywire, flickering and pulsing erratically beneath his skin. It doesn’t look natural—it’s chaotic, unstable, like a storm raging beneath the surface.
He falls to his knees, his body shaking violently. His claws rake against the stone floor, leaving deep gouges as his breaths come in harsh, ragged gasps.
“Rok, what’s happening?” I whisper, dropping to the floor beside him.
I reach out, my hand trembling, but the moment my fingers brush his arm, he flinches like he’s been hit by a truck, a sharp hiss escaping him.
My touch makes it worse.
