The Mistake
Iris
I hate Rakan. I hate him so much. For lying to me, for keeping me trapped here. For making me want him, anyway.
The taste of smoke and ancient magic fills my mouth, and I moan as our tongues entangle in a frantic duel. Beneath the fabric of his shirt, the rhythmic thud of his heart races against my palm.
“You don’t get to do that,” I gasp, breaking the kiss just enough to catch my breath.
“Do what?” he asks as he presses a kiss to the curve of my ear.
“Pretend this is simple. That you didn’t just rip my life apart.”
He laughs, but the sound holds no amusement. “I’m not pretending, Iris. I already told you. Nothing about this is pretense.”
His mouth crashes down on mine again. It’s sudden and terrible, and it completely undoes me. Am I supposed to fight him? To shove him away? Maybe, but under his touch, my survival instincts simply dissolve.
The reality of my abduction should matter. So should the casual arrogance of him destroying an ancient scroll just to prove a point. But here, pinned beneath his heat? None of it holds any weight. I don’t even care about the other djinn, the man who’s apparently hunting me. Right now, the only one who matters is Rakan.
My body answers purely on muscle memory. Maybe it was trained by a hundred fleeting touches over a coffee counter. Or maybe my whole life, I’ve just been waiting for him.
He’s pinning me against the shelf, yet somehow, impossibly, the wood doesn’t dig into my spine. I’m pretty sure my glasses have disappeared, and I have no idea when that happened. The sheer absurdity of everything he does infuriates me, but I can’t bring myself to pull away.
Rakan’s large hand cups the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. I press my body closer to his. The world shrinks.There is only the rough scrape of his jaw, the solid wall of his obsidian skin, and the heavy drag of our shared breath.
“Tell me to let you go.” His breath ghosts hot across my wet lips. The raw edge in his tone carries a desperate plea. It makes the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. “I will, Iris. I won’t force you.”
His eyes seem to burn into mine, glowing brighter than ever before. Is he searching for the fear he planted inside me? Measuring the lingering shock of the murder against my ragged breathing?
There’s no point, and this is a battle I’ve already lost. “You don’t have to force me, and you know that. Asshole.”
He hisses against my mouth. Then, a dark laugh tears out of his chest. I drag my palms up to claw at the broad, hard planes of his shoulders, desperate to anchor him to me. “Come on. Take me to bed.”
The moment the words leave my lips, the air around us fractures. A rush of thick smoke, tasting heavily of desert sand, swallows the library whole. The shift yanks the breath straight from my lungs. One second I’m pinned against a wooden shelf, and the next, my spine hits a mattress.
The sheets are dark silk, shockingly cool against my overheated skin. Rakan follows me down instantly, the bed groaning under his weight as he cages me in. He catches both my wrists, his gripunyielding but careful as he pins my arms above my head. His thumbs brush over my racing pulse.
“You’re shaking.” His teeth graze the sensitive skin just beneath my ear.
“I’m not scared of you,” I snap back at him. It’s a lie, though not because he can erase me with a thought. I’m scared because even now, I want him to be as greedy for me as I am for him.
Letting go of my wrists, Rakan sweeps his hand over my side with deceptive gentleness. If he were anyone else, this might be the moment when he’d take my clothes off. But he doesn’t. He only cups my breast through my shirt, and just like that, every scrap of fabric on my body is gone.
When he’d done it to the scroll, it had startled me. Now, I can’t help but be thrilled at how convenient it is.
The cold air of the bedroom bites into my chest for only a fraction of a second before his blistering heat replaces it. His palms flatten against my bare ribs. The golden fire flickering over his dark skin sends shadows dancing across my pale stomach. It’s gentle, yet… somehow not. It’s a brand, the type only Rakan al-Rashid could ever leave.
Meanwhile, Rakan remains fully dressed in his tailored clothes. When he shifts back and rakes his eyes over my naked body, he seems infuriatingly in control. Power rolls off him in waves, so intense it should keep me pinned to the mattress. He’s the kind of man who owns everything he touches.
And as I look up at him, a different kind of heat coils in my gut. Defiance. I don’t want to just lie there and let him consume me.
I want to take him apart.
When I push myself up from the mattress, Rakan stays perfectly still. His golden eyes track my every movement as I shift onto my knees, leveling myself with his hips.
I reach for the expensive leather of his belt. The metal buckle clinks sharply in the quiet room. He lets out a shallow breath, his massive hands twitching at his sides. But he doesn’t stop me. He lets me strip the control right out of his grasp. I yank the zipper down, pushing the dark fabric of his slacks and boxers down his powerful thighs.
His cock springs free, violently aroused and searing hot. His obsidian skin is flushed darker with blood, and a thick drop of precum gleams at the blunt ridge. His sheer size makes my breath stutter in my throat. But I’ve come too far to turn back.
