Page 113 of Ashen Souls
“So impatient.” His husky cadence scraped against my nerves. “You found your way here all by yourself. I didn’t think you were ready for that yet.” A smirk touched the corner of his mouth. “Did you miss me that much, Patches?”
“Stop calling me that.” I kept my chin high, refusing to let the sting show. “And I didn’t come here because I wanted you.”
The amusement drained from his features, leaving behind a razor-sharp focus.
“I came for the truth,” I continued. “I know you are trapped here. Exiled and chained. I know Avelia cast the spell binding us together, and that the curse is still active.” My voice held steady. “And because of it, I am the key to your freedom.”
His smile didn't vanish, but it tightened into something measured and strictly controlled. He studied me with an unblinking intensity.
“Clever girl.” He took a step forward, closing in with deceptive slowness. “I should be impressed.”
I held my ground, ignoring the primal instinct screaming at me to run.
“But, Aveline, dear,” he whispered, the warmth in his tone intimate, “we already settled this last time, didn’t we?”
He kept coming.
I stepped backward.
The jagged wall bit into my spine.
His towering frame boxed me in. “You want me. You crave me. With me, you feel alive. It’s a hunger your fragile mortal world doesn’t know how to hold.”
He lowered his head, his mouth seeking mine.
I jerked my face away. His lips grazed my cheek instead of finding their target.
“Don’t.” My spine stayed locked against the stone. “I didn’t come for that. I want answers. And you are going to give them to me.”
His breath coasted over my skin as a quiet laugh rumbled in his chest. “Answers? Aveline, the only things I can give you are my mouth…”
His lips traced the line of my jaw, descending to the curve of my neck, pausing until my pulse spiked against them.
“…my hands…”
His knuckles grazed the waistband of my leggings, slipping just beneath my hoodie to brush the bare skin of my stomach.
“…and my flesh.”
He invaded the last sliver of distance, trapping me against the wall. His hips locked against mine, rolling forward to press the solid length of his erection into my center.
“These shapeless, wet layers… they only make me burn more for what's beneath,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “It will be a distinct pleasure to rip them off your body.”
“No.” The word broke from me, weak against his crushing dominance. “Daeren, no. Please, I don't want this.”
He didn't listen.
He didn't care.
One of his hands slid down my stomach, slipping beneath my drenched underwear. I choked on a gasp, my hips arching into his touch even as my mind screamed in protest.
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut, turning my face away.
His other hand moved upward, gripping the zipper of my hoodie. He yanked it down in one brutal motion. The heat of the chamber hit my newly exposed skin for only a second before his palm covered my breast, his fingers kneading the flesh. He lowered his head, his mouth latching on. The wet pull of his tongue sent a blinding shock of pleasure down to the fingers inside me.
I was drowning in him, seconds away from losing myself.
No.
