Miranda’s brow rose in a skeptical arch. “And that works on gods?”
My lips twisted and a low growl vibrated from my throat.
“Oookay then,” she drawled out. “Guess that’s a yes.”
It works when the god in question is weak of mind. I didn’t want to admit that to her though. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. It’s why I stayed away for so many long weeks until I was strong enough to get back to her. I wanted to be normal, reliable, for her.
"Seems like we're stuck," I admitted, trying to ignore how close Miranda was. Her warmth, the scent of her, it was all a bit too much for a god who was supposed to be focusing on escape, not the way her velvet braids brushed against my skin.
Our faces were inches apart, our bodies aligned in a way that was both uncomfortable and electrifying. I could feel every breath she took, each little movement sending a new wave of awareness through me.
“Do you have your phone? Mine isn’t in my pocket,” she asked.
“I believe they are over there," I said, pointing off to an edge of the stage where keys, phones, and even Miranda’s blade sat on a chair, well out of reach.
“This is ridiculous,” Miranda said. “We're supposed to be hunting a god, not playing out some magician's twisted fantasy.”
“I know, I know,” I replied. “But you have to admit, there's something poetic about us being chained together. Like fate is telling us we belong together.” I waggled my eyebrows at her.
She scowled. “Don't get any ideas, Xander. As soon as we're out of this, it's back to the mission.”
“Of course, the mission.” Then I repeated the magician’s dopey words, “You can’t break free until the moon kisses the sea. So that means until dawn?”
“Great, just great,” Miranda muttered, shifting slightly. The movement sent a ripple of awareness through me, every sense heightened by our proximity. “It’s a ridiculous thing to say about a landlocked state.”
“I estimate we have a couple more hours trapped here together.”
At that, pure panic flittered across Miranda’s face, widening her eyes and quickening her breath, causing her chest to heave. “That’s unacceptable.”
With that, she rolled us until she was on top. Miranda plucked a hairpin from her braids as if performing a magic trick herself. She directed the makeshift lock pick to the keyhole on the cuffs, but her hand stopped abruptly an inch away. Miranda’s hand shook as she gritted her teeth, trying to push the hairpin into the hole. It was as if some invisible force was keeping her from getting any closer, the same force that held my strength back when I tried to snap the chains.
We were both under that doofus’s spell.
Miranda growled and threw the hairpin aside, resorting to pulling and rattling the chains like I had. Her motions grew jerkier and more desperate as her panic mounted.
The urge to calm her down was overridden by a more powerful problem of my own.
Though it wasn’t her intention, Miranda was riding and rubbing the part of me that had already grown to attention. The ache to thrust inside her gripped me like a massive fist.
My hands fell to her hips as I stopped breathing all together.
“You’re gonna have to stop that, sweetheart, or we are both going to be in for more than you bargained for,” I choked out.
Miranda’s head tilted down at me, her braids falling to brush over my chest with alluring caresses. Annoyance gleamed brightly in her features, but realization dawned on them as she took in how I gripped her hips and the hardness that pressed into her inner thigh.
"Or,” I licked my lips, daring to press my luck. “We could make the next few hours at least interesting and see how many times I can get you to scream my name.” My voice was hoarse to my own ears.
I waited for the slap to ring out across my face and for the consequent sting of her rejection.
“Oh really?” Miranda said. Her voice and face were tense, as if she rode on the edge of something sharp. Something she would likely stab me with. “How many times do you think you could make me scream?”
My head snapped up so fast, it nearly flew off. Am I still caught in that ridiculous magician’s thrall and in a full blown hallucination?
She asked the question as seriously as if she were asking about a cancer diagnosis. Miranda took everything too seriously.
I lifted my hips, hitting the soft warmth of her sex with my hardness. The contact dragged a groan from both of us. Miranda threw her head back as her hands curled around the bed’s iron frame, the heat intensifying between us. “I’m betting at least five,” I said roughly.
My hands found their way to her hips again, pulling her closer. The heat of our bodies pressed together was incredible,and my desire for her grew to near maddening hardness. We were both breathing hard, our hearts pounding in sync.
