Page 22 of Filthy Royal

He pitched forward.

She balled her hand into a fist and struck out as far as her restraint allowed—only to notice the fire searing her skin, the now familiar throbbing at her wrists and throat.

It was him.

“Whoa, there.” Damien Skolov’s hand caught hers before she could connect. “I’m not here to hurt you, beautiful.”

As her brain caught up, her terror slid away. Replaced by new, equally tumultuous sensations.

“I only want to make you feel good.” He landed on top of her, his hips pinning her to the mattress while he guided her arms back over her head. The lower half of his heavy body rested between her spread thighs, something huge and thick pressing against her core.

A core that was instantly wet, and desperate for him.

New colors flashed across her skin, dancing over him like a caress: carnal, vivid crimson and violet chased by deep, harmonious blue, painting them both in sensual hues that pierced the shadows and outlined the rugged face and square jaw a fingerbreadth from hers.

“Stunning.” His voice was a sinful rumble as he rocked against her. “Like the rest… of you.” He dipped his head, his nose skimming along her throat, his voice deepening as his sentences fragmented and the haze of his deepening rut scented the air. “So… fucking… sweet.” The tip of his tongue curled around her earlobe. “I’d scale… any height for a taste of you.”

Lost to the haze of the omega heat, Scarlett moaned low, her eyelids fluttering closed. His scent was mouthwatering, the sharp bite of leather, ice, and power flooding her lungs.

“I knew… you were… the one.” He held himself above her with one arm, the muscles bunching and flexing in a captivating display. The other slipped beneath her sleeping gown, sliding up her leg, the rough heat of his palm against her skin making her wild.

Lifting her hips, she ground against him, the thick firmness of his leathers the perfect friction against her core.

He groaned low. “Fuuuck. So… damned good. Going to mark you… rut you… breed you.”

A faint voice inside Scarlett called out a warning to slow down, but the roar of lust thundering through her veins easily drowned it out. The swirl of stunning colors blinding her to anything but the beauty of this moment. Of him.

She’d been waiting for this male her whole life.

“Damien.” She whispered his name, the sinful sweetness of saying it aloud making her rub against him faster. If only she could hold him to her, but this… this would have to do.

“Yes. Say… my name… until it’s time… to scream it.” He slid his hand down to grip her bottom, working her body up and down his shaft as if reading her mind. “Don’t worry… about the guards. I… paid them off. You’re… all… mine.”

“Yes.” Her back bowed, her breasts aching as everything inside her coiled tight.

“Touch… me, Scarlett. I want…” His movements stilled.

“No, please.” She was so close. “Don’t stop.”

“Egan tied you to the fucking bed?” He rocketed off her.

Her haze of lust cleared enough for her to register the murderous look on Damien’s face—and the sheer recklessness of what she’d just done.

He whirled toward the door. “I will fucking kill him.”

6

SCARLETT

“Wait. No.” Surging upright as far as the restraints would allow, she tried to catch his arm—and missed. “Don’t. Please.”

Already at the door, he stilled, the muscles in his forearm flexing as his fists clenched.

She spoke fast. “You can’t kill him. Or be seen leaving my room. I’ll be punished. You’ll be banned from the tournament. Please. Think this through.”

Low, feral growls rumbled through the room.

Panic pooled at the back of her throat. “Please. I’m fine.”

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