My teeth trap my bottom lip. “I’m just worried.”
Slade’s face softens, and then he walks over to me, stopping just in front of my knees. His hand comes up to slide beneath my jaw, to tip my head up as he leans down. “I don’t want you to be worried. Fourth Kingdom is strong. I’m strong.”
“I know you are, but your people—”
He suddenly bends his knee and places it right between my legs on the mattress, trapping the fabric of my skirt as his weight pins my legs down.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice coming out in a breathy surge.
He leans in, and I lean back, making him smirk. “I don’t want you to worry. We are going to be just fine.”
“But—”
With his hold still on my jaw, he swoops down and skims his lips over mine, making my words die on my tongue and trickle out with my shaken breath.
It’s not even a full kiss, not really, but just that barest of touch makes my body react, makes me melt against him.
He pulls away, verdant gaze burgeoning with flickers of heat in their deep green depths. “You have a good heart, Auren,” he tells me, thumb brushing over the edge of my jaw. “I just want you to trust me in this. Trust that I can keep you and my kingdom safe.”
“I do trust you,” I reply honestly. “But you said so yourself, if they do this, if they push you, you’re going to retaliate.”
Instead of trying to deny it, he places his other knee onto the bed too, this one on the outside of my right thigh. I thought my skirt was pulled taut before, but now, it’s even more restricted, binding my legs in place. His hands brace on the mattress on either side of my hips, and even though I lean back slightly, he leans with me.
“I will retaliate,” he says, speaking just inches away from my face. “I do not shy away from using my magic. I do not feel remorse for revenge. I will do whatever I need to do, because no one is allowed to threaten my kingdom or try to hurt you.”
I swallow hard, and I shouldn’t be turned on right now. Not when we’re talking about something so serious, not when he’s telling me that he feels no guilt for spreading his rot at the cost of lives and land.
But I am.
There’s always this pulsing pull between us, one that reverberates through the air that only we can feel.
“I don’t want you to have to kill for me.”
The side of his mouth ticks up, and he grazes his cheek against mine, the scratchy texture of his shaven face making my own cheek prickle with heat. “It’s far too late for that,” he purrs darkly. “The fae instincts in me will not rest until the threats on you are eliminated, and the king in me will not sit by while others threaten my people. I will not be able to tolerate it. No one is allowed to threaten what’s mine, because I will not lie down and take it.”
He leans forward more, pushing me with the move, and now it’s me lying down. It’s my body on pinpricks, hearing the word take it in a completely different context. The heat in his eyes tells me that’s exactly what he intended.
His arm muscles bulge as he holds himself over me, his eyes dipping down my chest, making liquid heat pool at my core.
“But…that’s bad,” I say lamely, even as my hips try to lift up. Try, and fail, because he still has my skirt pinned. It sends a thrill down my spine, being completely at his mercy, being held beneath his body.
Lie down and take it.
“Me and you,” he says, leaning forward, making that pull more potent, the pulsating draw more magnetic. “There is no shame in what we are.”
What a dangerous thought.
He nibbles at my bottom lip, licking at the seam. When I don’t open, he pinches down harder, drawing the tiniest, sharpest point of pain that somehow makes my body fill with anticipation. I let my tongue slip out, finding the bead of blood there, but he presses his lips to mine again, stealing the taste.
“We are powerful,” he tells me, one hand coming down to drag from collarbone to the cusp of my cleavage, a trail to ignite, to spread this kindling desire.
I shouldn’t be wanting the burn. I should be pushing him away, talking about this decision without the distraction of his seduction. But I can’t. I can’t, because every time he touches me, he incites an uncontrollable craving.
So I arch up, a silent plea for him to dip his hand beneath the fabric, to grab my breasts, to touch me all over. I arch, and he bends, and that’s all there is.
“Say it.” His lips come down to my hardened nipple, sucking it in right through the dress. I whine at the contact, head tipping back. He moves from one to the other, licking, tugging, teasing.