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Where the ‘cake’ went—Ancestors, I didn’t care.
“That’s not what you thought last night,” he growled against my mouth. “When you were begging for every drop of me.”
I notched my knee between his legs.
Ancestors below, he was already so hard. Heat flooded my pussy instantly.
“Who is begging now?” I said against his mouth, rubbing my knee roughly across his length.
He snaked a hand between us—shoving my leg down, cupping me roughly through the tight leather leggings.
Ancestors, it was almost enough to make me forget—
“Forget what?”
I jerked backward, grabbing Arran’s shoulders, pushing him back far enough that I could see his face.
“I didn’t say that out loud.”
Arran swallowed. It had been days since he’d shaved. Maybe a week. I wanted to see that ragged beard glistening with my juices—fucking Ancestors, Veyka! Focus!
Arran had heard my thought. Not one I’d said intentionally to his beast. He’d plucked it right from my fucking head!
Was this the Ethereal Prophecy, finally taking shape within me?With a touch, she will feel the heartbeat of her subjects, and she will unlock the secrets they guard within.
But I hadn’t seen Arran’s thoughts. He’d heard mine.
“How did you know?” I stammered.
Arran shook his head. Did I look that absurd when I shook mine?
“I just… felt it. I felt your worry. I felt you trying to forget… what? What happened?” His head wasn’t shaking anymore. His eyes were intent on me, still burning black. Still wanting me—always wanting me.
But just now they summoned the memory of those eerie black flames. I half expected Arran to see the memory. But he just kept staring at me, expectant.
I grabbed the back of his head, curling my fingers around the tight club of hair, and dragged him back down. “We can talk about it later.”
He stopped me with his mouth an inch from mine.
Powerful. In control. Eyes nearly feral with need.
Yet somehow, he managed to speak. “I think we need to talk about it now. It seems the mating bond agrees.”
I glared up at him. “I am High Queen of Annwyn. I won’t be governed by an intangible… thing in my chest.”
He’d braced himself for vitriol. For my vehement rejection of the bond.
But it didn’t come.
Not from my lips, nor my head. Not from my heart.
Arran leaned down, closing that inch. He caught my lower lip between his teeth, dragging it out, dragging it away, scraping his canines over the soft flesh of my mouth.
“Tell me.”
Because I’d promised. I’d said we shouldn’t keep secrets. That we should share our burdens.
“I see things.”
