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I didn’t realize I still was.
Fight back.
Do something.
But my brain has left the building. I wriggle, chasing sensation. My throaty whimper of need surprises us both. He rears back to look into my eyes. Two powerfully built arms brace on either side of my head. Long braids trail down his shoulder and tickle my cheek. I bite my bottom lip to stifle another stupid, girly sound. Wrong thing to do. Whatever obsession he has with my lips is sexual. His volcanic gaze drops to my mouth.
“Distractions will get you killed,” he murmurs, now as breathless as me.
Scratching and knocking precede Cricket’s loud string of curse words and what sounds like the baby Wild Hunt escaping the conservatory. I would look, but Bodin has me pinned.
Cricket curses again, then shouts, “Last chance for a meal before the kitch closes for lunch.”
I raise my brows at Bodin.
“Fine,” he grinds out, still staring darkly at my lips. “Eat.”
But he fails to move, even when galloping paws rapidly approach. The cocky bastard thinks he’s invincible, but not from two of us attacking at once. The wildling’s collision jolts him tothe side. I fist his shirt, hook my leg around his waist, and use the momentum to roll us. Within seconds, I’m on top, straddling him and pressing a dagger against his carotid.
“That enough calamity for you?” I ask.
“You were told to return that weapon.”
My lips curve. “Never assume.”
Our eyes lock. A bolt of heat pulses my pussy. His pupils dilate, and suddenly, our mouths clash, our tongues duel. The unyielding stone beneath me softens with a breathy groan. His hands slide across my hips to squeeze my rear end. I rock into the hard length pressing between my thighs. Our kiss lasts five delicious seconds, and then my brain screams a timely reminder.He wants to sacrifice you.
I try to break away, but his hands trap my head. He holds me still to continue his ravaging kiss. He’s so punishing that, at first, I think he’s using this to reassert his dominance. But then he flexes his hips, and his erection digs into me with hungry jabs. It feels so good that I almost submit.
You don’t trust him!
Don’t I?
No. You don’t. Unlike Fox, he hasn’t proven any kind of loyalty.I press the blade against his neck until I draw blood. His lips stop moving. He waits a moment, then drops his hands.
He grumbles, “I warned you not to squirm.”
“Right, so this is my fault.” My body is a bag of trembling fury, adrenaline, and lust. I don’t know what else to say now except, “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.” His tone is distracted, and his hands return to my hips, idly massaging my aching muscles in circles. “You need to eat more.”
Stop it. Stop trying to make it sound like you care. I push off him and wipe the blade on my trousers. I’m attracted to him, to them, but that doesn’t mean they’re good for me.
I walk toward the conservatory glass door.Rustling at the stables stops me. Nose deep in the bottom of a rose bush, the baby dragon sniffs a trail toward the horses kept within. Bodin’s eyes widen. He maneuvers off the ground but doesn’t run after the beast. He steps back, away from it.
It’s almost laughable how the big protector, whose word sways even the likes of Legion, is terrified of corralling a tiny dragon. I put two fingers between my lips and let loose a shrill whistle. Baby Hunt scrambles out of the bushes and lifts his head in my direction.
“You want some yum-yums?” I shout.
He perks up, but then glances at the stables when a horse whinnies. I pat my thigh and call him again. This time, he runs toward me like a streak of black lightning, his wings tucked back for aerodynamics. When I open the door, he races inside the conservatory, and I leave Bodin alone with his gobsmacked expression.
Chapter
Forty-Two
PUCK
“This is unacceptable, Goodfellow.” Lord Sylvanar storms into the dining hall and slams his fist on the table, jostling the fine porcelain crockery.
