Page 52 of Immortal Bastard

Swells of emotion bombarded her. He craved her compassion, her approval, and her rejection injured him more than any physical wound ever could.

“Stop,” she whispered. “You’re trying to make me feel bad.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

But he was. She had an empathetic link to his feelings and they were killing her. “Knock it off. I feel you inside of me.”

His hold loosened. “I’m hardly touching you.”

But he was in her. There. With her thoughts. Present in every nerve. Stroking parts of her she couldn’t picture from places she didn’t know how to locate.

A strange scent met her nose. Arousal. Hers and his.

Shifting under his hulking build, she tested his hold on her. She was hardly restrained, yet he’d tamed her with little effort as he straddled and pinned her to the floor. A purring growl murmured from both of them.

“Get off of me.”

“Do you think I can’t detect your desire, little one? I know what you want. Your stubbornness is costing you.”

She struggled beneath him but he didn’t budge. The hard press of his arousal weighed on her stomach. She recalled how deeply he’d filled her the last time he was inside of her.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“No. I’m doing nothing. Everything you’re feeling is your own body trying to communicate a need. You should listen.”

Her jaw locked and her thighs pressed tight, her sex practically weeping for him to take her.

“My body’s yours, Delilah. I freely offer whatever you need.” He looked down at her like he planned to consume her, and she resented the effect his desire had on her.

She wanted to be strong. Powerful. Independent and in no need of him whatsoever.

Then she noticed the deep gouge by his eye. Concern tore at her heart when she realized how deeply she’d cut him. Ashamed, she tried to roll away but, again, he held her down.

“It’ll heal. Your distance wounds me more than anything else.”

How, after everything he’d done to her, could he still cause such an unwelcome ache in her heart? She didn’t want to feel sorry for him or attracted to him or anything else. She only wanted to be rid of him, but even the brief thought of leaving him spiked a terrible sense of panic inside of her. How could she possibly feel so many contradicting things for someone she hated?

Fuck, desire was literally building and burning in her loins. Loins! What the fuck did that even mean?

“We’re one, pintura. Your needs are mine, just as mine are yours. Your pleasure’s my pleasure. Your hunger my hunger. It’s futile to fight such a connection. There’s no severing what God has forged, so why not accept it and stop fighting what your body so obviously needs?”

She didn’t want to hear about his God. When he wrapped their circumstances up in some biblical bow, it excused him, placing all accountability on some cosmic force. But this was his doing, his fault. She hated that he’d done this to her without giving her a choice, and if she stopped fighting him it would be too much like she was giving up on herself.

Life as she knew it was gone. Her shop, her friends… Would she ever see Lance and McGuire again? They were the only family she had. He took them from her. He took everything from her.

And now she wanted to hurt him. “I don’t need anything from you.”

The gash at his eye stopped trickling blood, the wound sealing shut without a stitch or even a tissue to stop the wound from gushing. “You’ll always need me, pintura, and I you.”

She glared up at him. “Do you think you’re the only warm body—”

He growled and jerked her knees wide, shifting quickly to stretch them around his thighs as he pressed the bulge of his cock against her sex. “I’ll warn you now, the males of our species are extremely territorial with their mates. You do not want to anger the beast that hides within.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she rasped, voice trembling.

“When it comes to you and other males, you should be. I’ll kill any male who thinks to lay a finger on you.”

“Not so virtuous now, are you?”

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