Page 17 of His Darkest Desire

Kinsley shoved herself to her feet and spun around, searching the shadows for those glowing red eyes, but they were nowhere to be seen. “Who are you? What are you?”

“You’ve dragged filth into my home, human.” His reply came from all around her, impossible to pinpoint because of the echo. “You will bathe. Then we shall attend to the fulfillment of our contract.”

Fulfillment of their contract, which stated she was supposed to have his baby?

Despair pierced her heart.

“No,” she said.

Some of the darkness shifted beyond the roots, but she lost track of the movement too quickly.

He growled. “I can take your life as swiftly as I restored it. You will do as I command.”

Heart hammering, Kinsley turned in place, still searching for him. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to be trapped here as your…your…broodmare!”

“No, you asked to live, and I offered it for price. A life for your life. I saved you, and you shall bear my child in exchange.”

You are mine.

She grasped her right wrist, the wrist he’d held that night, and shook her head. “I was under duress! I…I was dying. I would have said anything.”

“And you said yes.” His voice suddenly came from behind her. “Your words led you here. You have spoken, now you must act.”

Kinsley curled her fingers tightly and whirled toward him, swinging her fist. “No!”

Her attack met only empty air.

A strong arm banded around her middle from behind, crushing her against a tall, hard body, and a long-fingered hand closed around her wrist where she’d been branded.

“You swore by your true name,” he said against her ear, the feel of his warm breath upon her skin making her shiver.

She tried to wrench herself out of his grasp. “Let me go!”

Despite her struggles, he easily turned her around to face him. Her gaze met his an instant before his hand wrapped around her throat and he forced her backward.

Kinsley gasped, eyes flaring as she gripped his forearm. She came to a halt only when her back struck one of the rough, cold standing stones. Energy buzzed along her spine.

His head dipped closer to hers, and he growled, “You’ll not escape our pact, Kinsley Wynter Delaney.”

What breath remained in her lungs was stolen by the sight of his face in the otherworldly light of the runes. Those demonic red eyes with their slit pupils were narrowed in a glare. They were red on black, no whites to be seen, and were framed by thick, dark lashes and arched brows. A pair of small, curling scar patterns, with two dots beneath them, extended from the outside corner of each eye. He had long, curved, pointed ears, high cheekbones, and sculpted lips that were drawn back to reveal fangs on top and bottom. His features, framed by long, raven hair, were sharp and elfin but for the bump on his otherwise straight nose.

As though all that weren’t enough, his skin was green.

“Wh-what are you?” Kinsley asked, running her gaze over his terrifyingly beautiful face.

“Your master.”

Before she could voice any of her many, many objections to that, his hands dropped to her waist, claws pricking her flesh, and he lifted her like she weighed nothing. Kinsley cried out as he draped her unceremoniously over his shoulder. Her breasts squished against his back and pressed against her chin, and her hair fell around her.

She fought his hold, flattening her palms on his back and kicking her legs. “Stop! Let me down!”

Undeterred, he clamped an arm around her thighs while planting his other hand on her ass, trapping her in place as he strode forward. Only when she flicked her hair out of her face and looked down did she realize just how high she was. This man—this thing—was tall. Six and a half feet, at least. And it was a long way down.

“It is degrading enough to have made a bargain with you,” he said as he stooped down to pass between two of the roots and exit the standing circle. “I shan’t debase myself further by yielding to the demands of a human.”

Clenching the fabric of his shirt and loose strands of his waist-length hair in her fists, Kinsley pushed herself up and twisted as much as his hold allowed to glare at him. “Debase yourself? You’re holding me captive!”

Ahead, she glimpsed a pair of large doors at the top of a set of low, crude stone steps. The doors’ wood was etched with runes and tree patterns. She’d seen them from the other side yesterday, in the foyer.

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