Page 70 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
But he was still my jailer. He was still cruel and grotesque. He still loved to punish me.
Yet that part of me didn’t understand or care.
It had my muscles tightening as his fingers dipped between my legs, tracing little circles on my inner thigh that came higher with each pass.
At the next seat, I heard Roark put down his cutlery and make a soft sound of interest.
Sepher nuzzled into the crook between my neck and shoulder, his touch fire. “Would you like it if they saw you come apart on my hand? Would you mewl for more as you did last night?”
My breath hitched as he skimmed my edges, sending my heart rate into riotous thunder.
With a soft laugh, he pulled away. “Tomorrow, I will make a public example of my pet,” he announced to the table.
They fell still and silent, forks in mid-air, glasses halfway to open mouths.
A wicked smile showed his top canines.
Several at the table leant forward, smiles almost matching his, Roark’s the widest. Others replaced their glasses and forks, tension underlying their flat expressions. Celestine and Anya exchanged glances. Essa’s brow furrowed. Cadan’s lips pursed, but he quickly hid it behind a sip of wine.
Inside me, the threat quivered, anticipation and fear waking. Was he going to hunt me again? The delicate hairs on my arms rose at the memory of being pinned to the tree.
“But first, I’m going to make a private example of her.” His smile vanished. “Leave us.”
30
“Over the table.” His voice crept through the silent room as the abandoned plates disappeared.
I took my time rising from his lap, stomach tight. With no one else here, this suddenly felt much more dangerous. Maybe that was what loosened my tongue.
“Why are you punishing me, Sepher? Haven’t I obeyed?” I spread my hands, showing the tiny diamond cuts. “Everything you’ve asked, I’ve done.”
He bared his teeth, claws digging into the chair’s arms. “Yes, but your obedience is malicious, little bird. And you know it. Now, bend over the table.”
Around the tight ball of my stomach, anticipation fluttered. What was he going to do if and when I obeyed? I held his gaze a long while, trying to read something in its golden depths.
He raised one shoulder, the gesture deceptively casual. “Oryou could lift the curse. Your choice.”
Except it wasn’t, because I couldn’t. I’d only placed a few in my life, but I’d never managed to lift any. Even the one time I’d truly wished I could.
If I told him, he would kill me. I was only worth keeping alive if he believed I could give him back the life and body he’d once had.
So I gave him a sharp smile, like I did have a choice and still chose spite, and bent over the table.
My heart thundered as I pressed into the unyielding surface. It was a wonder it didn’t reverberate through the wood and make the plates and glasses clatter.
Sepher’s hand slid up the small of my back, lifting my dress, and cool air wafted over my backside. I held my breath, waiting for him to slam into me. That felt like where this was going.
The deep darkness in me quivered with want. It saw its mirror in him, an answering darkness in his cruelty. Mine called to his, wanting to circle it, dance with it, join it in sweat and hate and lust and all those white-hot feelings that screamed life.
I waited.
And waited.
Just as my lungs began to burn, a slap rang across my arse, jolting me into the table, making the held breath burst from my lips in a low cry.
My bare skin stung, and his hand lingered there a moment, fingers flexing, the warmth mingling sweetly with the hurt. When I sighed at that and sagged into the table, he withdrew his touch.
He struck twice more. Hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to cause damage. I wasn’t sure if he intended it for my pleasure, or if he wanted to hurt but feared injuring me after my brush with death. He didn’t seem to quite understand the limits of a human body compared to a fae one, so perhaps it made him more cautious than he’d otherwise be.
