Page 21 of The Sacrifice

My lips twitch into a smile, and I gasp when my palm connects with the bare skin of the dragon king’s upper chest. He stiffens and draws in a sharp breath. Those glinting green eyes capture me even as my fingers tangle with the rough hairs upon his chest. Something sinful throbs in my core, like my heart has invaded my pussy to beat there, rippling more blood and heat between my thighs. The muscle I’m palming is called a pectoral, but his is far firmer, thicker than any other I’ve witnessed. I’d felt the powerful sinew along his forearms, biceps, and bulging shoulders. As if he was carved from the ancient stone of deep magic in the recesses of the earth.

He curls his upper lip to show a long, keen dragon tooth. But I don’t move my hand, gazing up and refusing to shrink as he says, “Untouched ones, neither living nor dead, they are called shades in the Waste.” I swallow hard when he grips my chin and jerks me forward to rumble low, “You are only a half shade, little Tessie.”

I part my lips and lower my brows, confused. “They call me the ‘gray girl’. Half dead, half alive. Half ghost.”

“You still feel warm enough to me. Warm blood. Warm skin. Warm cunt. Why were you in the fucking woods, Tessie?”

“The Sacrifice, I—”

“You sacrificed far greater by coming here. Why would you make such a sacrifice?”

Pursing my lips, I lift my eyes to his, and through tears that blister the corners of my eyes, I confess, “Because I’d rather destroy myself than let another do it.”

“Prepare yourself for destruction, then. Because I will do whatever the fuck it takes to protect myself and my brothers. We’ve lived ten thousand years. Did you believe you could come here and charm or deceive us? Nothing but darkness awaits you. Whatever tragic existence you came from, you were a fool to believe any happiness could exist here.”

My body thrums from the dangerous masculinity of his words, from the heat and fire within them. Even his cheekbones sharpen from his intensity, from the vow in his voice. Those full lips part to showcase more teeth.

I’m not looking for a happily ever after. I’m looking for a dark and dangerous once upon a time. If my once upon a time begins with death itself at his claws and teeth, then I will welcome every sharp cut and shredding of my flesh.

My hand strays to the right until it rests upon the flesh where his heart is. As soon as my fingertips brush the location, I yelp from the flame rearing up to bite my hand. But the same moment that I jerk my hand away, Drago grips it and crushes my palm to his chest. So hard, I worry he’s broken the tiny bones in my hand. But it’s nothing compared to the fire licking my skin, at the lines in my palm. I shriek, but it turns into a whimper followed by a moan because I’ve never felt this sort of pain. Only an echo of a blade cutting my skin to spill my blood.

Fire is different. Fire feeds on the layer of my skin, melts it, chars the flesh, and wrenches tears down my cheeks. He threads his fingers around mine, palm and heel overlapping mine. Smoke curls between those fingers in a hint of a promise.

So, he will destroy me with his fire. It’s a fitting end for the girl who is nothing but cold scars. When my vision clears for a slit of time, I gasp, marveling at his chest heaving. The seductive heat of his breath shivers across my face. In one moment, there are inches of air. In the next, he’s chained the back of my neck, yanking me to him so hard and high, the muscles in my neck howl from the pain. Until his hot mouth comes down on mine. Oh, savage mercies! Hard and bruising, his lips plunder mine. He’s not careful, and I remember how it’s what I wanted. Something wild and wanton. Heart-crushing, soul-obliterating.

Here, I am opening, bending, and curving before him, and praying for a suicide by sex.

14

I'm Falling into His Hell

QUINTESSA

By the time he’s done, my lips are swollen. My cheeks are hotter than forged iron, a flush suffuses my chest, my nipples have hardened, and my breasts feel heavy for the first time.

At his grinning chuckle and how he undoes the ties of his robe, I realize he’s not done. Not in the least. I blush from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, convinced I’m combusting from the inside out. The smoldering skin of my palm fades the more he moves away from me, and I glance down, awed by the puckered flesh, the branded skin.

“Heated and unholy, I believe were your words. So deep and hard, you’ll feel it down to your core.” He offers me a grin, and I drop my jaw because nothing is mocking in his smile. Yes, it’s sly and mischievous, but in his smoldering green eyes is a dark, heated promise. “And what, pray tell, little gray girl, could be more savage and forbidden than a monster god?”

Heartbeat hammering against my ribcage, I shield my chest with my arms as he parts his robe and slides it off his shoulders. In. One. Fell. Swoop. Naked and unashamed. My eyes go wide.

Two heads taller than me, perhaps three, he bears not only hard-packed muscle along his slabbed chest but a thin armor of glittering scales—a glistening black, like oil but tipped at the edges by iridescent emerald. Like the countless men I’ve read about in those carnal books, the aged warriors taking a beautiful maiden. Except, I’m certain none of those maidens looked like me with a body full of scars and ink. Nor am I well-endowed like them—with hips or tits. At least my face may pass as...pretty. Not that a king would care about a pretty face after one look at my body.

The dragon king tilts his head to the side, testing me, those eyes roaming across my figure, carnal and feral in their intent. He radiates pure predatory possession. At first, I try my damned hardest not to ogle him, but he shifts to one side, diverting my attention. His hair falls in wild waves of blood-fire red, apart from the shaved sides.

“Understand, little one, I vowed to take my revenge upon the one who stabbed me in the woods and nearly sent me to my death. But now, I have something far different in mind.” He approaches the side table where a large basin filled with water rests. Flames scorch my cheeks, and I know it’s not from the hearth near me but instead from the firm, taut globes of his buttocks. No scales there, only hearty golden skin. He bends to scoop two handfuls of water and washes his face.

My insides clench, and I swallow the lump in my throat when my eyes swing to his thighs. Such muscle and power in those brawny thighs and hips, I’m certain he’ll split me open like ripe fruit. Probably a passion fruit. Or make it a dragon fruit.

Savage mercies, is he truly serious? My heartbeat pounds like a war drum. Emotions form a labyrinth within me: lust wars with fear, curiosity overcomes any horror, and my thirst for feeling—for pain and pleasure—overrides any sense of propriety. This is the Waste. And the mad girl inside me thrills at the charge to her nerves. Even if it means he’ll snap my throat at the end.

I try to clear my throat to form some sort of response, but he turns, flinging water from his fingers. More droplets sluice down his cheeks and the strong pillar of his neck, lingering on his bulging shoulders. I take a step back, but all that’s there is the fireplace. Embers lick at the backs of my legs, but I don’t feel them. All I feel are those intimidating and beautiful eyes burning against mine. His sexual energy crackles like lightning in the air to hum the hairs on my skin to static. He is a storm advancing toward me, and I almost wait for him to crouch and roar, growing those wings and lengthy tail until he turns into the monster I met in the woods.

Savage mercies, girls like me don’t get kings like him! And all I want to do is rub my needy body against him until he’s ready to bury himself inside me like we’re two animals in heat. Rationality says I should be afraid. Icy fear should prey on me, but heat rushes through me instead.

My heart spasms from my wild-eyed wonder. When a hard muscle ticks in his cheek, and he spreads his lips into a shit-eating grin, I don’t think. I match that grin. And bolt. A dark growling laugh echoes behind me, resonating into my spine with its thunderous meaning. He will enjoy hunting me.

His chuckle is gravelly, and I almost turn to liquid. I get as far as the door handle when his arm grips my bare waist like an iron band. “You may look adorable in my brother’s jacket, but for the rest of this night, it will be my scent that covers you.”

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