Page 11 of Kneel Before Me

“I have no desire to fuck someone who does not want to fuck me,” the basilisk continued. “If you learn one thing about me tonight, let it be that.”

Daphne blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. Then again, no part of this conversation had gone the way she’d expected. Her gaze fell to his trousers, where his cock was half-hard, creating a tantalizing bulge. She resisted the instinct to run her hand over it. Daphne had just told the basilisk her boundary, yet when such temptation was placed before her, it was difficult to adhere to her word. She was only a woman, after all.

“I wouldn’t say you have no desire,” she whispered.

There was an extremely fraught silence. Then the basilisk smiled. It was a slow smile. Cunning. It made Daphne want to smile back. Before she could, he turned and crossed to the fireplace, taking a seat on the mat. He looked back at her expectantly.

Daphne crossed her arms. Basilisks were infuriating creatures.

His smile widened. “Come here.”

She stared at him. Part of her wanted to follow his order. There were worse things to do with her evening than spend time with someone who was already hard for her. With a sigh, she crossed to the mat, lowering herself gingerly. There were definitely stains.

“Is it not more comfortable than stone?” he asked.

She could be mistaken, but it sounded like he actually cared about the answer.

“Yes,” said Daphne begrudgingly. “It is.”

“Good.”

True to his word, he did not care if they sat in silence. And sit they did—Daphne with her arms crossed, the basilisk with his hands clasped calmly in his lap. It was uncannily warm in here; the fireplace crackled cheerfully, lending a cozy atmosphere to a decidedly un-cozy situation. The basilisk stared at her the entire time, his eyes narrowed. It was not a threatening stare. It was thoughtful, and despite herself, Daphne stared back, attempting not to look down at his cock. The silence went on. Did he seriously expect them to spend their sessions like this? It could be weeks before the prince chose a wife—that was a long time to stare at each other in a cave. They might as well have a conversation.

“What’s your name?” Daphne asked presently.

At first she thought he might not reply. But after a significant pause, the basilisk said, “Kronos.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Sorry—it’s just not a name I’ve ever heard before.”

The basilisk shifted, causing the muscles of his forearms to ripple.

Daphne had always been weak for forearms.

“And what is your name?”

“Daphne.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“That is a name I have heard many times before.”

Daphne pursed her lips. Of course he’d heard it before—he was probably a thousand years old. Surely he’d met hundreds of Daphnes. For some reason, the thought bothered her. She wanted to seem unique to him.

“What’s your last name?” she asked.

“Seneca.”

That was sort of sexy, she supposed.

“And yours?”

“Verus.”