My heart jerks. My lungs suddenly feel too tight. “We’re together. Isn’t that enough?”
He shakes his head. He undresses me, and I let him. “You’re bright like a star. You shine for me now, but the sky turns. Where will you shine tomorrow? Or the day after? I won’t let you go, not without a fight that would make Gods tremble.”
I shiver, rattled by his words. “You’ll regret pledging yourself to me. It will cut your life short.”
“You’re my life now. We’ll live together, or die trying.”
I shiver again, the chills both hot and cold. “You’ve decided, then? For both of us?”
He nods, smoothing his hand down my naked body. His warm fingers come tantalizingly close to where I’m already slick with want.
I shift restlessly. “I should have a say.”
He dips his head and teases my breast with his mouth while his hand inches toward the curls between my thighs. “Then tell me what you want.”
I moan when his finger slides between my folds, gently rubbing. What I say now will have consequences. Words are binding, each one a promise, or a betrayal. He slips a finger inside me, his hot, wide palm putting pressure on my sensitive nub of nerves. I lift my hips and forget all about talking.
“Agapi mou?”
Tension builds quickly inside me. My pulse is a liquid beat, throbbing between my legs. One finger turns into two, thrusting firmly. I tilt my head back and grip the sheets. “I can’t think when you’re touching me.”
Griffin stops and looks up from my damp nipple. “What do you want?”
I want him to go back to touching me so desperately that I might say anything. Luckily, I’m not that stupid. Or rather, I was stupid before. “In case you missed it, I pledged myself to you last night when I accepted your claim and let you spill your life force inside me.”
He doesn’t rise to my baiting tone. “Live together, or die trying?”
It takes a moment to get the words out. I’m worried about Griffin, and the dying part. “Live together, or die trying.”
Griffin’s shoulders relax. He kisses me long and deep, his sword-toughened fingers wonderfully rough against the inside of my thigh. I slip my hands under his tunic and hold him close, pressing my face into his neck and inhaling his subtle, masculine scent.
I kiss his jaw. It’s official—I am an idiot. At least there are two of us now. “Be my Ares and finish what you started. Otherwise, I might just kill you and all of this pledging will be irrelevant.”
He grins. I think he’s going to touch me again, but he doesn’t. He drags his mouth down my body instead. I know where he’s going, and I can’t wait. He nips my hip and then my thigh, nudging my legs apart. Then his mouth begins a slow, delicious torture, his hands holding me steady while I come undone. He takes his time, tasting, teasing, exploring what makes me buck, and finally wringing a staggering release from me, leaving me panting, satiated, and stunned.
Griffin kisses his way back up my stomach and breasts. He stretches out next to me, leaving one heavy hand on my hip. My eyes lock on his fingers, dark against my pale skin. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the easy way he touches me.
“Your name suits you.” His eyes are heavy-lidded, his thick, black lashes partially obscuring the molten silver beneath. “You sound just like a cat, purring and mewling.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, throwing his hand off me.
Griffin looks mildly offended but gets over it when I tug him to the edge of the bed and then take off his shirt. I hop down near the foot of the bed, my feet sinking into the thick rug. I pull him up to standing next to me, undo his belt, and shove his pants down. He steps out of them, already barefoot, and kicks them aside.
My eyes widen at the size of him. His erection still surprises me. And it’s still intimidating. It makes me wonder how wide my jaw opens.
I drop to my knees. I’ve heard men like this.
“Cat!” He pulls me back up. “You don’t have to do anything.”
“You did.”
“That was only to give, and I enjoyed it. A lot. I don’t expect this in return.”
I’m getting more nervous by the second. “You’re very giving. It’s nauseating.”
His lips kick up at the corners. He doesn’t seem too perturbed by my pronouncement. “I don’t need to be bad-tempered twenty-four hours a day to prove I’m strong.”
I bite my lip. I probably deserved that. “Don’t worry,” I say, wiggling out of his grasp and sinking back down. “I have no idea what I’m doing. You might hate it.”