Page 72 of Our Sins in Silver (Coven of Sin 3)

The vampire king’s mind games had done a number on us both. Our nerves had been completely fucked. Anxiety hung thick in the air, making every breath a chore.

There was a lot of shit to take care of once we left this room. The Elders’ meeting. Finding my mom. Facing my father in real life.

Escaping reality for a few hours by forging the mating bond with Sterling was supposed to be a break from all that. Knowing that we’d be facing another mental drop-in from Daddy if we didn’t finish forging the bond put a mega damper on the entire mood.

The stress and pressure of it were almost thick enough to bite.

“You’re trembling,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes shutting for a moment as he tried to collect himself. “It’s just…seeing him... I never expected to again.” Sterling lifted a hand and palmed his throat where the thorny noose had been just seconds ago in his dreams. “I’m accustomed to his barbarism.”

Sterling opened his eyes, staring straight through me with that haunted look, making my breath hitch and my tummy tighten. “But seeing him with you, daring to even look at you, let alone touch you…”

The prince’s knuckles cracked as they flexed on the floor beside my head.

Bowing his head, his hair shielded his expression. “He won’t put his hands on you again. He’ll die a thousand more deaths before I allow that. I swear this to you.” The deadly quiet of his cadence made me shiver beneath him, despite the hot and heavy waves of arousal washing through me.

I was figuring out how to protect myself for the most part. But there was just something about a usually peaceful priest pledging death and destruction, all in my name, that did it for me.

Catching the feminine scent curling up from my thighs, the vampire stiffened, and his eyes bled a pale-red hue. Both of us fell still, and the silence that encased us made my pulse skyrocket.

The room was cool, but the humidity of our entangled, harsh breaths had my body flushing. Tension built, straining and stretching until I was sure it would implode at any moment.

My ragged panting filled the room.

Cords strained in the slender column of his neck. His lips parted, and his fangs gleamed in the dark. “I’m in pain, Ruby. I need you.” His voice was thick with hunger and underscored with a desperation I’d never heard from him before.

I ran my fingers across the tight muscles of his pectorals, over his marred crucifix tattoo and up to his chin where I held him. My broken prince may not have a beating heart, but I could still hear it breaking.

The mind spell might have been broken, but Sterling hadn’t yet escaped his master. His bond to that monster was still intact, and the burden of it hung over his head like a storm cloud.

“Bury yourself in me, Sterling.”

It was that extra push that sent my silver prince’s control shattering.

Feverish heat crept between my legs and hooked inside me, making me squirm and gasp as I watched him frantically grab at the opening of my nightgown.

His fingers curled around the silk belt, and he ripped it open with an impatient jerk of his fist.

He bared my body to his probing hands, and he felt me all over. Touching me, mapping me out, seeing me.

My lips. My breasts. My navel. My thighs.

Jerking his knee up, he nudged my legs apart and cursed when his hand dipped to my center to find a wet mess.

Without warning, he pinched my clit, and I bucked off the ground, a moan tripping from me. He leaned back on his heels, brows crunching together and his gaze filling with shadows. “I will never understand your affinity for pain. But what confounds me even more is my sudden willingness to indulge your craving for it.”

His lips pursed into thought. “Perhaps now, because I have you for a lover. But pain dealt by love—pain that is controlled and dealt in equal proportion with pleasure—there’s a romanticism to it, isn’t there?”

I spread my legs wider apart, giving him further access to my center. His hand slid so easily over my seam. Raising his fingers, he rubbed them together, slick and shining from my need for him.

He brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled. Pale lashes kissed his high cheekbones, and a string of blasphemies rolled from his tongue. It was like he was drunk on my scent.

Bloody hell.

He gripped the insides of my thighs, his nails digging hungrily into my flesh. I whimpered, and his dick twitched in his sweats. He cupped my pussy, and his index finger painted a firm stroke through my labia.

“Hmm. I don’t have time to get you wet in the way I’d like. So how about this…?” His tone turned guttural, and his smile impish. “Tell me. Earlier in the evening you came into my den reeking of Vincent and Eros.”

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