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Fuck, but when he looked at me like he was right now…perhaps I would blindly comply.
“I’ll dress you in furs and silks, with jewels hanging at your throat like a queen,” he promised, his voice carrying a dark note of dissonance that somehow made it more harmonious. “The people that pass will think you a Rusalka come to life, come up from the wells to drown men with your beauty. The women that pass will cross themselves and be ripe with envy, the men will watch every move you make. You are queen here, remember that.”
His words filled me as much as his gaze. He spoke of magic like my babushka had over the fires of her stove when I was a girl. He uttered it so surely, so confidently, that I almost felt as though it were true.If I were a Rusalka, then he was the devil, and what a fine devil he made.
He leaned towards me, his lips running unbridled over where his thumb had pushed into my skin before. I could feel my breath well up in my chest at the emotion that came from him doing so.
He captured my attention, took hold of my body,and I was beginning to fear that he was taking more than that as well.
“Furs and silks. . .” I murmured against his lips. “Will you shroud me in diamond so that you can say I’m encased in ice?” There was humor in my words, even if it was mostly overlain with lust.
“Nyet,” he breathed, his smirk casting his face in shadow. “What good is a queen that you cannot touch? Nyet . . . I’ll wrap you in me instead. . .”
And again, his lips fell to mine, blocking out all talk of ranks or tattoos, or who was Rusalka and who the devil. Instead he rid me of my inside-out dress once more, working over my body so that by the time we were ready to leave the hotel, I was in line with his will once more.
Not that, these days, I ever wasn’t.
