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“I want you.” His eyes glance toward the window. “The world, it seems, has changed. Perhaps my brothers and I are no longer needed. Perhaps it is time for softer things. For consorts and. . .” His face scrunches up as he makes a face. “Peace.”
I laugh. “Don’t look so disgusted by the thought of peace. It’s nice when things are quiet.” I toy with his hand, my fingers playing with his in the small space between us.
He shrugs, still looking a little disappointed. “I was made for war. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself during peace.”
“Well, when were you last in battle?”
“It’s been well over two hundred years,” he says a little wistfully.
“What have you been doing since then?”
“My brothers and I have been having a long dispute.”
“For two hundred years?” I ask, shocked.
He shrugs.
“If you destroyed a bunch of land when you fought for months, what happens when you fight for two hundred years?”
“It wasn’t a fair fight because my brothers locked me in the dungeon for most of it. I’ve only recently been freed.”
My jaw drops. “Are you joking?” How did he tell me all about his brothers yet leave this little bit of the history out?
He looks at me and laughs, his fingers toying with mine again. “Don’t look so shocked, little consort. We are brutes and don’t pretend to be anything else. But my eldest brother was tamed by his consort, who convinced him to let me out.”
I cock an eyebrow, entirely unsettled and also fascinated by this conversation. “Is that my job? To tame you?” I reach a finger out and run it across his eyebrow, the liquid feeling in my belly heating up again. How have we been on this bed for so long without him making a move on me? Does he not want to? I retract my hand.
He shoots me a sideways glance, and that wide, wicked grin slides over his face. “You couldn’t tame me if you tried.” He tugs me against him by my waist, his dark eyes burning down into mine. “I’ve tried to give you time, but I hunger for you. May I again lick you until you shudder all over my face?”
Well, it’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about it.
My sex contracts at his words and the hardness I suddenly feel pressing into my belly. Does he only want to lick me again, or will there be more? It feels like we’ve had days and days of foreplay, and I’m already so on edge.
I bite my bottom lip so I don’t beg for him to fuck me, god yes, fuck me!
“You are so beautiful,” he exhales, running the fingers of his left hand through the slight tangle of dark hair at my temple.
I frown. He’s just telling you what you want to hear so he can fuck you. Dammit, I hate the old voices in my head. I want him to fuck me! But when those old wounds get triggered. . .
“What is this?” I breathe out as he presses his hips against me. Hard. “What are we doing?”
We’ve talked so platonically all night and all of yesterday and yesterday night that I wondered if I imagined what he did to me at the lake.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, leaning down to kiss me. Finally, oh god, finally. He’s so huge he blocks out all the new morning light.
“What do you mean? What’s obvious? That you want to fuck me?” I bite out. I don’t know if I ask the question belligerently because I’m suddenly freaked out by the proposed intimacy or because I feel like he’s been luring me into a false sense of comfort with all this talking. It’s probably just all my old insecurities flaring. I want him so, so bad I’m thrumming with the need, but I’m also terrified of being taken advantage of again.
Remus glowers at me. “No. Not fucking you.”
I can’t help a little thrill from running down my spine at him even uttering the words. “What, then?” I gasp.
He’s all but on top, hovering over me, wings flaring again to block out most of the light so that we’re in shadow. If I didn’t trust him so much, I’d be intimidated.
I do, don’t I? Trust him?
I suck in a quick breath.
“This,” he says in a low, growling breath, “is me and you. Nothing more, nothing less.” He lowers his body to skim his chest against mine. “Nothing happens here that you don’t want.” He swoops down so that I can feel the warmth of his next words right over the tip of the thin, silky nightgown covering my breasts.
