Page 39

I loved Roark Ashwood. Secrets and curses, violence and danger, I loved, I craved, I wanted.

A cruel sort of grin spread over my mouth when I levered my thighs in a straddle over his hips. Roark’s lips parted and his hands went to my waist when I rocked, just so, over him.

I tilted my head, whispering against his ear. “All of me?”

He nodded, his fingers digging into my waist, no hesitation.

Without warning, I pulled away and stood three paces from him. Roark’s eyes were narrow and burned with a new sort of heat.

I held up a palm. “You say you love all of me, for you’ve had all of me. But I have not had all of you.”

Roark arched one brow in a question.

I tugged at the laces of my borrowed tunic, opening the front enough to reveal the cleft of my breasts. “You broke my heart, Roark. That comes with some consequences. You remember my love for torturing men, don’t you?”

He swallowed with effort. I watched the movement of it down the length of his corded neck.

I seem to recall a moment or two when you had a man screaming.

I flashed a vicious smirk. “Good. I think you need to pay for the pain you’ve caused me.”

Oh? Roark’s face shadowed. How shall I do that?

I leaned over the chair, one palm on either arm, caging him. When my lips nearly brushed his, I spoke. “By doing nothing.”

Again, he arched a brow.

I nipped at his ear. “You are not allowed to move a damn finger with what comes next. You. Will. Watch.”

Lyra. He spoke against my cheek. What are you doing?

I pulled back again, opening the front of his tunic a little more so he could nearly see the flush of my nipples. Roark let out a strangled sort of cough but did not rise from the chair.

“You asked me once if I would take all of you, and I agreed. But I didn’t know what I was agreeing to at the time. I did not know your depravity, a dark edge whose touch I feel on my skin. How is it fair that you have had all of me, but as I said, I have not had all of you?”

Roark lifted one palm, fingers shaking slightly. You want…?

He didn’t finish, but I nodded. “Yes. I want you to watch what the most vicious piece of your soul is about to do to me.”

14

Lyra

Roark’s expression was a tangle of bewilderment and lascivious heat. I bit down on my lip to keep from recanting my words. Unease splintered in my chest. This was too bold, too much.

Light from the flames darkened, like a shade had been drawn, shadowing the glow.

Roark, unmoving, was slowly draped in silky ribbons of shadows. Fire flickered behind his eyes until the gold faded to a shocking copper crimson. Along the thick scar on his throat, darkness dripped until a shape formed. Broad shoulders, ghostly skin, long fingers with dark fingernails.

Skul Drek stood between me and Roark, his head covered in the dark cowl, his lips pressed tightly.

I shuddered under his watch. This was…different. More vicious, more brutal, more possessive.

“Don’t move, Roark. You’ll watch your darkest pieces have me.”

I straightened my spine, holding the burning attention of the monstrous shadow. My fingers opened the front of my tunic so it slid down my arms. Skul Drek tracked the garment, his shoulders lifting with silent breaths.

Through the diaphanous skeins of night, I could make out where Roark remained. His grip on the arms of the chair had tightened, and his jaw clenched enough that every muscle in his face seemed to pulse.