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“Are you smelling me?” I whisper.
“Yes.” His lips brush my shoulder, and soft warm breath bathes my skin. “I must learn your scent better, so I can find you more quickly if you run from me again.”
I forgot that I intended to run, to hide, to fight him, to do everything possible to keep from being back in his power. None of that seems so urgent now, with his big arms encircling me and his strong legs woven with mine.
He has burned people alive, Serylla, I tell myself sternly. So many of Elekstan’s forces, incinerated by him and his dragons. Picture it. Feel it. Don’t yield to this foolish desire, this false sensation of safety, of rightness. Nothing about this is right.
Kyreagan’s voice reverberates through his body and mine. “You told me you know other songs, not just the annoying one.”
“Yes.”
“Your voice is soothing,” he murmurs. “I thought you might sing a while. Perhaps one of the songs you created yourself.”
Killer. Kidnapper. “No.”
He rumbles low in his throat. “Sing for me, captive.”
“No.”
With a louder growl he sets his teeth against my shoulder, biting lightly. A bright thrill traces through my clit.
“Stop being so feral,” I gasp. “You’re better than that. Go to sleep.”
He doesn’t ask for a song again. I assume he has gone to sleep, because he’s motionless for the longest time. Hours pass, yet the most I can do is doze restlessly. Every time I shift my position even slightly, I’m hyperaware of the thick, hard cock pressed between my ass cheeks. The cold, his heat, my hunger, his dick… it’s all too distracting for me to rest. And the rock has become uncomfortable again.
There is nothing quite so torturous as a long night when you desperately want to sleep, need to sleep, and you can’t. I’ve experienced such nights often throughout my life, but at the palace I had tea or wine to help me drift off. Here, there is nothing.
Tea… it’s been so long since I had a good cup of tea. I think I miss it more than my own bed. Tea was my main indulgence, my one religion…
I’m jostled suddenly by the abrupt movements of Kyreagan as he disentangles himself from me and scrambles out from beneath the slanted rock. I scurry out as well and follow him as he staggers drunkenly across the sand.
Moonlight shines on the beach, highlighting the crests of the ocean waves and glowing on his body—the smooth curves of his ass, the valley of his spine, the broad muscles of his back partly obscured by the swinging sheet of his black hair. Starlight glints on his long, tapered horns.
He keeps falling, catching himself with his knee or his hand, pushing himself back up, stumbling onward.
“What is it?” I exclaim. “Did you hear a predator?”
“I can’t do this.” He’s hauling in great, frantic breaths. “I need to fix it, now. I need to find the enchantress.”
“Not at night! Not with wolves around. Kyreagan, stop.” I dart in front so I can face him.
His eyes are wild, his jaw gaping as he struggles to breathe, but his breaths are too shallow, too quick.
“Grab your thighs and bend over,” I tell him. “Put your head down. That will make it easier to breathe.”
He obeys, his hair swinging over his shoulder. His skin shines with sweat, and he’s shaking so hard it’s a wonder he can stay on his feet. Cautiously I place my hand against his back, between his shoulder blades. I can feel his heart thundering at a frightening pace.
“You’ll change back,” I tell him.
“What if I don’t?” he chokes out.
“Then you’ll learn to live in this body.”
“No. I have no power in this form. I can’t bear it.”
“You were going to force such a change upon me,” I murmur.
“A change for the better. You would have been stronger, bigger, more glorious. This is a change for the worse. I should never have trusted that enchantress.”
