Page 40 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
“I could heal you as we go along, of course. For example, if I cut off your ear, I can heal it with a spell. But the new ear, formed with Fae magic, would not have the same properties as your original ear. Why waste resources on re-creating parts you won’t need for much longer anyway? Besides, the use of Fae magic on your body would lessen the potency of your remaining flesh.” He curls his fingers around mine. “I’ve never worked on someone with all your qualities, kitten. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance for a student of magic like myself.”
“And you’re not willing to trade the Tama Olc for my life?”
He purses his lips. “As I said, your end will be less painful if you yield possession of the book.”
“And if I don’t, you’ll make me scream. Even though you don’t like it when your victims scream.”
His long ears twitch. His voice is low, a velvety purr. “Yes, I will make you whimper, and sob, and beg, and scream.”
I don’t understand why my body inflames at those words, why my flesh trembles with something more than horror.
The Rabbit sniffs the air, his jaw tensing. “You’re a very strange human. Threats usually lessen a human’s arousal, rather than increasing it. But you—you want me more when I threaten you with violence.”
“I don’t want you,” I whisper, pulling my hand from his.
“Put your fingers between your legs.”
Slowly I reach beneath the band of the panties, sinking two fingers into the cleft between my thighs. It feels so good to touch that part of me.
“Now pull them out and show them to me,” he orders.
I want to keep them tucked in that damp heat, but I obey, holding up my wet fingers.
He inhales sharply and takes a step forward, his eyes suddenly hot and hungry. “There it is. Your body desires me.” He leans toward my hand and sniffs deeply. And then he grips my wrist and shoves my fingers into his mouth.
The prick of his teeth, the fiery slick of his tongue, the quiver of his lips, and the deep satisfied hum in his chest—it all sends my body soaring into a new kind of awareness. I am a blazing, quivering furnace of need, with a furiously pounding heart at the center.
My fingers are trapped in his mouth, my wrist manacled by his fingers, but I don’t feel imprisoned. I feel as if he has opened a door for me, and I want the beautiful garden I can see beyond it.
Helplessly, instinctively, I sway toward him, aching for contact, for more.
He pulls his mouth off my fingers, his eyes opening and refocusing on my face again.
Awareness flashes into his eyes. Awareness of what he has done, and the way the air thrums, heavy and hot, between us.
In one violent rush, he has me flat on the bed, pinned by my throat and wrist. “Go to sleep,” he hisses savagely, his breath scorching my lips. “I have work to do.”
He flings the covers over me, attaches my chain to the bedpost, and stalks out of the room. The orbs drifting near the ceiling dim their light as he leaves.
My insides are glowing, twisting, hot and tormented. A primal craving snakes through my lower abdomen.
How am I supposed to sleep after that?
I liked what the Rabbit did—tasting my arousal, sucking my fingers. It excited me more than anything else I’ve felt.
I want more of that—more sex. Though I haven’t actually hadanysex yet, so I suppose I can’t wantmore. Oh, I don’t knowwhatI want.
I flop onto my stomach, plunging my face into the pillows. And I try to sleep—I really do, for what feels like hours. But no matter how much I toss and turn, no matter how many sheep I count in my head, my brain will not stop circling, questioning, wondering, and imagining.
Imagining the Rabbit’s gloved fingers parting the lips of my sex. Stroking me there—
My fingers are creeping to that spot, so I tuck them under the pillow. I must try to rest, or my captor will be angry. Maybe if I think about all the terrible things he has done, my body won’t keep simmering like this, like hot soup on the stove.
That’s what my moment with the Rabbit felt like. Soup that’s been peppered so much that one tiny sip sets the tongue on fire. And yet it’s delicious, and I can’t help craving another spice-laden bite.
The Rabbit comes back into the room. He stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. “Why are you still awake?”
“I can’t sleep. I’m too—agitated.” I shift my legs, pressing my thighs together.
