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“I will go and prepare our meal.”
I leave the room, hearing her asking what the hell I could possibly bring her to eat, chuckling at her fear that it’ll be raw meat. My mother would kill me if I served her that. I go to the cooking area and get together a loaf of bread, oats, and light a pot of water over a fire. While the water heats to boiling, I hear Keri moving around, trying to find her way through the darkness. I should have lit her a fire in our bedroom.
She puts her hand to the wall, going back in the direction I walked her down yesterday. I realize what she's hoping she'll find. The shaft, some way back to her old life. The hurt from her wanting to leave strikes me harder than I expect. Of course, she wants to leave, to get back to Leah, especially given her worry over whether their evil leader followed through on their deal, but still, the pain comes right in the center of my heart.
“Patience,” I murmur to myself.
She gets all the way to the end of the tunnel but finds nothing but dirt now. Hours after the sacrifice is lowered, the shaft is lifted and the hole is filled in with dirt again, never to be accessed again now that our mate has been delivered to our cavern. She thumps her fist into the wall beside her, but she's still determined to be free. She comes back down the tunnel, passing our bedroom, unknowingly coming closer and closer to me. She comes into the room that holds our cooking area and stills at the small fire on the table, and the knowledge that I must be in here.
“Well, I was going to bring your meal to you.” I begin, and her eyes snap to where she can just make out my torso in the fire's light, “but since you found me, we can just eat together in here. Please, have a seat.”
She hesitates, but her stomach growls again, and she takes slow, small steps forward until she's at the table, feeling the seat beneath her to sit on. I cut a piece of bread off and put it on a plate before her. She blinks down at it, surprised that it's something she recognizes. She takes a small bite at first, but then she devours it. When is the last time she ate? Those fucking leaders up there are supposed to feed her before she comes down, but I listen to her thoughts intently to find out they gave her nothing, in too much of a rush to wash and dress her before midnight. My hand tightens around the handle of the knife as visions of dragging it across her leader's throat fill my mind. I already hate him for the choices he makes. This just makes me want to murder him more.
I cut her another, a bigger piece of bread this time, and then put the oats in the boiling water, stirring them as I watch her mouth move, and her throat swallow. It all turns me on. I pour oats in bowls for us both, and place one in front of her with a spoon inside, sliding the rest of the bread towards her as well. She loves it, and I want her to have every last bit. Then, we eat in silence. Or at least, she gives me no words, but her mind races, trying to think of a way to escape, worrying about Leah, wondering if Grace had a similar experience with whatever monster she was sent to last year. If only she knew that Grace is mated, bonded, and pregnant with my nephew right now. I wish so badly that I could tell her.
Then she speaks her first words since we were in our bedroom. “What else is in here?”
“There are four rooms besides this one. Sitting area, our bedroom—”Our,she thinks. “—a room, empty for now—”For our children,I think, and dare to hope. “—and a hot spring. I am heading there now to bathe. Would you like to join me?”
Desire rushes through her at my offer, but she shoves it down, deep down, so ruthlessly I almost laugh.
“Never,” she hisses, trying to convince me and herself of her disdain.
I stand. “Well then, you're free so stay here, or there are candles over there for you to light if you'd like to explore.”
“Ah, yes, I'll take a tour of my prison.”
I do laugh now, but I walk away, towards the hot spring, listening to her warring with herself not to follow me. I smile. I haven't won her over just yet, but some part of her already wants me. I let it be enough…for now.
Chapter 7
I hate it here. I hate it here because Ilikeit here. I like being with him, a monster that I should abhor. I love that he refuses to let me sleep anywhere other than wrapped in his arms, no matter how much I fight him each night. I crave his touch, and miss his lips, his tongue, and his cock. I haven't let him fuck me since the morning after I came here, even though I've wanted it. God, how I've wanted it. The lust that thrums through me every second of every day has become so intense that I've resorted to putting my hand between my thighs the last two days to relieve it while I hear him in the hot spring. Sometimes, I could swear, though, it feels like he's watching me anyway. Which, shamefully, only makes me come harder.
This morning, when I woke up with his hard cock against my ass, I almost lost control, my hand reaching back to wrap around him before I could stop myself. But I did regain control, balling my hand into a fist and punching it into the bed like it was what had committed the offense instead of my insane desire for him.Him. I don't even know his name. If he has a name. How crazy is that? How crazy is all of this? Just thinking about it has me wanting to groan in frustration. I want him so badly, but I refuse to give in. Refuse to spend my days and nights, whatever the hell time it is, fucking a monster that will only kill me in the end. I will not spend my last days in this internal war with myself, my mind condemning me for all I've done with him so far while my body begs me to give in and let him do more.
But still, the desire remains strong right now, so much so that my clit is aching. I can hear him in the cooking area, things clattering while the smells of something delicious reaches me, so I lick my lips and trail my hand over my naked thigh until it's at my pussy. I bite my lip, not sure how good his hearing is, but not wanting him to hear the breathy moan that leaves me when I put my finger to my clit, pretending it’s his, wishing itwashis. My clit is swollen, needy, and I already know from the past two days that my hand isn't what it wants. It’s nothing compared to the pleasure he gives, but it'll have to do.
I arch my back, thighs clenching to press my hand harder into me. God, I wish it was his tongue licking me, his mouth sucking as his groans reach my ears, but instead, I hear heavy footsteps coming towards me. I rip my hand away, rushing to sit up. I'm breathing hard, but I try to hurry and even them, to look as normal as possible. Whatever the hell normal looks like down here. I pull the sheet over my naked body, as if I don't sleep bare against him every night. Then, I see those red eyes appearing, the three fires he lit for me in here casting a glow on his dark-grey skin. I've barely seen much more of him than that. His strong thighs, his loincloth hiding a part of him that I’m desperate for, and his hands when he puts things in front of me on the table at meals. When we go to sleep, he douses all the fires, making it so I can't even turn around and look at his face. And I…want to.
“You do know that I can smell your arousal?” he asks, making embarrassment rush through me. “And even more so when it's on your fingertips.”
That embarrassment suddenly grows wings and soars to heights unknown. I disguise it with anger, like always.
“Why didn't you say anything before?” I snap.
“Why would I? It's a smell I love. I only wish you would let me be the cause of it again. Or at the very least, let me taste it again.”
“I don't want your tongue on me,” I lie.
“You're right.” Those red eyes come closer. “You want my cock inside of you. You want me to make you come because your little fingers…” The bed dips between my legs from his weight. “…they don't feel like I do inside of you. They don't make you scream and shudder.”
“You make me sick.” I turn my face away from him, as if it can hide the hot flush creeping up my chest and neck.
He comes closer, and in the light of the fire, I can see his chest, his shoulders, his neck. I'm not surprised to find his chest is muscular, and his shoulders, broad. Even less surprised that my mind fills with thoughts of sucking the skin of his neck into my mouth. There doesn't seem to be anything about him that I don't find sexy. I even want his tail on me again. God. His voice makes me look higher, into red eyes that blaze back at me.
“Does pretending you're angry make you feel better about wanting me?” he asks, his question hitting far too close to the truth.
“I don't—”
