Page 55 of Feral Guardian
“Never again,” he growls.
I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Sleep. Now.” He releases me and abruptly rolls over, putting his back to me.
Like I’ll be sleeping after that.
Gods, he licked the fingers I used to pleasure myself. A lewd thought rolls through my mind. I could use my saliva-slick fingers to pleasure myself again, and it would be like he was doing it.
I’m aware that I have a problem.
Why did he lick my fingers, though? Was the smell bothering him? He’d inhaled so deeply, but it hadn’t seemed like disgust. No, he’d been…
Aroused.
I’m arousing to him.
Well, I do have a woman’s figure and I suppose that’s all that’s necessary for some men. But could it be more? Gods, why am I thinking about it?
“Lilianna. Sleep,” Alastair demands.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” I fire back.
“I’m trying,” he says. “But your thoughts are so loud I can practically hear them beating against your skull.”
“Oh, and what am I thinking?” I ask snarkily.
He doesn’t respond for many moments and my annoyance heightens.
“What am I thinking, Alastair?”
He rolls over and suddenly he’s looming over me, his eyes so red they light up the tent. Black swirls within them like a pool of deep water and I’m entranced by him. His hard length presses against my hip and he lowers his lips to my ear.
“You’re thinking the dirtiest, most indecent thoughts. Thoughts that have no place in the head of the heir to the throne.”
My heart is hammering again, and my breathing comes in pants. “You’re the one making me think them.”
He grabs my chin and we lock eyes again. “I’m not going to fuck you, princess.”
The fire in my chest ices over in an instant and I jerk away from him. “I didn’t ask you to.”
I roll over indignantly and stuff my hands between my knees once more.
Alastair sighs. “Go to—”
“You go to sleep,” I snap.
He growls and rolls so his back is facing mine again. Anger and the shame of rejection war over my heart, but somehow, in the turmoil, I manage to drift into sleep.
I wake alone in the tent with sun all around me. It must be midmorning already. It’s warm and I hear the crackling of a fire outside.
I don’t want to go out there. I want to die in this tent.
Why had I touched myself?
I groan and cover my eyes.
“Come out, princess. I’ve made food,” Alastair says.
