Page 88 of Cursed Evermore
The plate cracked on impact, doing nothing at all to me. My body had seen all manners of battle. It was forged from war, so hitting me with a plate felt like being covered in feathers.
On seeing I wasn’t even fazed, Elariya grabbed the mug of juice and dosed me with it. As if that was supposed to do something different. Then she tried to run again.
I didn’t need to follow, and I was growing tired of this back-and-forth shit.
With a wave of my hand, the shackle brought her right back to me.
I froze the binding before she could crash into my chest again and levitated her into the air.
Elariya shrieked and kicked violently. I floated her to the opposite wall and pinned her there, forcing her arms and legs apart the way I would if I were feasting on her in my bed.
She was so terrified she couldn’t even breathe.
Slowly, I made my way over to her and gazed upon her trembling frame.
“You can’t run from me,” I taunted.
“You’re a crazy asshole.”
“Yes, I am.” I sounded like I took pride in the label she’d just christened me. It was certainly not the worst thing I’d been called. “With that being said, I wouldn’t fuck with me if I were you. You will eat the food that is given to you, and you will take off that dress.”
“Fuck off.” She groaned.
“Okay. Let’s do this the hard way, then.” Using my index finger, I drew a line through the air. Instantly, the lace fabric of her dress sliced down the middle, splitting open to expose the shift beneath, which did little to conceal the large swells of her breasts.
“Oh Gods!” she shrieked, trying to cover herself and failing because her arms were pinned.
“Pray tell, mage. And speak true. Is the dress dear to your heart because yourbetrothedgave it to you?” I was a fool toentertain forbidden desires, but my possessive nature forbade me.
She froze at the question; the only visible movement on her body was the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “No.”
I couldn’t tell if she was lying. And really, it didn’t matter. Nevertheless, I slashed the air with my finger again, faster this time, rendering the dress to scraps. The pieces fell from her body like flurries of snow.
She stared at the mess with her mouth wide open and her eyes gazing in disbelief. When she looked back at me, her fire had snuffed away again.
Each of our encounters stole a little more of her energy, even as she fought to rebuild her courage.
“Shall I keep going and strip you naked?” I tore a small line down the front of the shift.
She gasped, “No!”
“Are you sure? I’d love to see what I robbed myself of.” Through the magical connection of the shackle, I caressed her cheek and traced a line down to the start of her cleavage.
“No.” Her voice faltered with indecision, and her eyes filled with desire.
“You don’t sound so certain, Ziyka.”
“I’m certain.” She regained her former firmness.
I removed my touch and she released a haggard breath.
“Still think your betrothed is coming to save you?” I smiled, searching her eyes.
“You can count on it,” she snapped back.
My grin spread wide, feral, and unholy. “Ziyka, you’d better pray he doesn’t. Pray to whatever gods and blessed mothers you still believe in that he doesn’t show his face in Galaythia. He wouldn’t last two seconds with me. You belong to me now. And I don’t take kindly to anyone trying to claim what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours.”
