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He doesn’t move and neither do I.
“I’m not breakable.” I’m proud of how firm and level my voice sounds, when inside, I’m a quivering mess. I need him to know this, though.
“No, you’re strong as hell, but you deserve to be taken care of. Protected.”
“I’m not an innocent, untouched woman.” Warmth sweeps over my cheeks, but I don’t want Rhys to think I’m a delicate flower that needs to be kept under a glass cage for my own protection.
My words have an unexpected effect, making Rhys sit up straighter, fire burning in his eyes. His chest rises and falls, his jaw clenched, and a low rumble escapes his chest.
Good. He doesn’t like that.
I don’t know why I want to push his buttons all of a sudden, but I can’t stop myself.
“I just wanted you to know that I’m not some little girl.” This time there’s real anger in Rhys’s eyes, his face losing all color as tension fills his body. He faces me, outrage snapping in his eyes.
“Did they hurt you? Those bastards at the Summer Court?” He’s breathing so hard he can barely get the words out. It dawns on me what he’s trying to say, and I react on instinct, reaching out to cup his cheek.
My heart gallops around in my chest. Rhys looks like he’s ready to personally tear down the veil and go snap every one of those monsters’ necks.
“No. They wouldn’t lower themselves to touch a human. There were other changelings there, other servants. We occasionally snuck around.”
“I need you to stop talking about other men.”
Why do I keep pushing? I know it’s a bad idea, but I don’t want Rhys to stuff me in a padded box. I’m not a precious piece of jewelry that can only be admired from afar and needs to be protected.
“Why?”
Rhys leans in, his face inches from mine. “Because I might go mad thinking about it.”
The low growl in the back of Rhys’s throat tells me he doesn’t like that one bit. But me, I really love how angry the idea of me with someone else is making him. One of his hands jerks up, closing over my hand on his cheek. I expect him to pull it away, but he only traps my hand to his face.
“I’ve never been jealous once in my life. Not of any of the women before who tried to make me care.”
I slap my hand over his mouth, feeling a little sick to my stomach. He’s barely mentioned another woman, and I'm ready to go burn down the island because he may have slept with someone who lives here. I’m sure he has, but I never want to think about it.
My game isn’t amusing anymore. Not even a little.
“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. I don’t want to talk about anyone else.”
Rhys moves just enough so that his teeth sink down on the flesh between my thumb and pointer finger. I shiver, heat bursting out from my low in my belly and blanketing my entire body. I’m breathing too loudly but I can’t calm my rapidly beating heart. Then he sucks on his bite and my body jerks in reaction.
“Anyone before you doesn’t exist. There is no one else.”
I nod because he’s right. I might have said things to work him up, but I have no memory of anyone besides the man in front of me. With messy black hair, beautiful eyes, and the ability to see into my soul.
“No one.”
The air around us simmers. We’re both poised on the edge of a cliff, knowing that one wrong move could have us falling or the ground crumbling beneath our feet. Except I get that sense, that knowledge that for once, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
My heart is beating rapidly and warmth pools low in my belly. Need and lust swim through my veins, pumping in time with my heart. Rhys swallows and I track the movement, seeing the rapid thump of his pulse in his throat. I want to lick it, to suck the skin there, to mark him and show him how desperately he has me aching.
I shove aside the moment of hesitation that says this is moving too fast. Grabbing a handful of my dress, I ruck it up and crawl over to straddle Rhys. He makes a surprised sound that quickly morphs into a low groan as I settle onto his lap. Nervous flutters battle for space in my stomach, fighting against the excitement being close to Rhys makes me feel.
I run my hands up his chest, his nearly violet eyes watching me with heavy lidded desire. His hands slowly move up from my knees to my thighs, and I tremble at the feel of his calloused palms on my bare skin.
“What are you doing, Zara?” Rhys’s voice is dark as the night sky, decadent but rough.
“I’m experiencing something I missed out on.” I sound breathy and winded, but I don’t care.
