Page 62 of Feral King

“Of course I feel something about it.” His voice drops. “I feel it every time I look at you and know that the same hands that touch you are the ones that can do that. I live with it. Every day. Do you think I don’t know what I am?”

My chest feels tight, and I can barely breathe.

“And I would do worse if I had to. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. To keep Anya safe. To keep those I love from harm. I will not apologize for it. And if that makes me a monster in your eyes, so be it. I’ll be a monster who keeps you alive, whether you like it or not.”

The room suddenly feels very small. My hands are on his chest, his heart beating quickly beneath them.

I know what I want. And I hate myself for it.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I whisper.

“Then stop me.”

I can’t. I won’t.

He takes my face into his hands and leans down, kissing me hard. I pour every bit of myself into the kiss; the fear and attraction I feel for him blended into one potent combination.

I open my mouth and eagerly let his tongue inside, his taste washing over me as my hands fist his shirt. I moan as he takes me by the hips and pulls me against him, his hardness pressing.

Monster, my brain whispers.He broke them for you. He’d break themallfor you.

The thought should horrify me. The hands that broke those men’s bones—and maybe even worse—are the same ones on my body.

Julian kisses me harder, backing me toward the desk as he does.

I pull back to breathe and slide down his body, dropping to my knees on the thick rug before he can stop me. I work his belt open with urgency.

“Lyra,” he says, his tone low and sensual. “You don’t have to?—”

“I want to.”

I tug his slacks and boxer briefs down in one smooth motion. His cock springs free—hard and glistening at the tip. I wrap my hand around his thick base and look up at him.

The confession he gave me still rings in my ears:I will do worse. I’ll be the monster that keeps you alive.

Guilt and shame twist in my chest but so does something darker and hungrier.

I lean in and take him in my mouth.

A sexy groan escapes from his throat. He’s velvet steel in my mouth, hot and thick as I swirl my tongue around the head and suck. His scent, his taste, floods my senses, and I moan around him, the vibration making his hips jerk.

My free hand cups his balls, rolling them gently while I bob faster, hollowing my cheeks. Tears prick my eyes from the overwhelming rush of power and surrender.Thisis what I couldn’t stop thinking about while I hid in my office.

Not the broken fingers, not the violence.

Julian. Like this.

Mine.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his fingers weaving through my hair. “Your mouth… damn, you’re perfect.”

I take him as deep as I can, feeling his thighs tremble. I slide my hands up his forearms, over the muscle and the intricate tattoos. I feel filthy and powerful all at once, and it’sintoxicating.

I want him to come. I want to bring him to the edge and then over it. I want to taste every last drop of him.

But before I can, he guides me off, his cock falling out of my mouth with a wet pop.

“Enough.”He sounds wrecked, like it’d taken all the willpower he had to stop me. “I need to feel you come first.”