Page 82 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
The applause deafened me. A wave of pure sound and adulation. It washed over me, lifted me, so it was like I was flying once more.
Good gods, was this what the other performers felt on stage every night? Was this what I’d been missing?
Still in the silks, I bowed, taking perverse pleasure in Sepher’s smouldering stare. He did not clap. His claws were embedded in the arms of his throne.
I had won.
Jaw rippling, he rose.
The applause sputtered out.
Very quietly, eyes locked on mine, he said, “Get out.”
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Iheld my pose, refusing to cover myself even though my muscles strained.
He’d wanted me to perform naked, and that was exactly what I’d done.
Once the theatre was empty, he prowled onto the stage, gaze locked on me as it had when he’d hunted me.
“You did this deliberately.” He flicked a glance over my body. Every muscle of his flexed, like he fought to contain a deep and terrible rage.
It only made me smile more.
“I simply did as you commanded.”
He exhaled with a growl, closing the distance between us. He gripped my cheeks and tilted my face up to his. “You…” His jaw ticked as though he didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“You made me perform naked, Sepher. And that’s what I did. You got exactly what you wanted.”
“Infuriating… Stubborn… Fucking witch. I’m going to…” Tight, fast breaths ripped in and out of him as he glared at me.
I took delight in his flared nostrils, in the rigid grip pressing into my cheeks, in the wide, wide expanse of his pupils. It stoked my joy and anger in equal measure.
“You thought you could break me, Sepher. Well, bad fucking luck. You chose the wrong woman.” As much as I could in his hold, I raised my chin.
Then he was kissing me.
Hard. Harsh. Brutal. A clash of lips and teeth and tongues. More a battle for dominance than anything romantic. His grip slid down my throat, but I wouldn’t have moved even if he’d let me go.
Not when this battle was a beat in my bones, a song in my soul.
I bit his lip, hard enough to taste the iron of his blood, and he bit right back, making me whimper in pained delight.
He tasted me, tore me, lighting me up with the glory of hate.
At some point, he released my throat, and I took the opportunity to push up into him, hungry for more of this mutual devastation.
Too absorbed in the kiss, I didn’t realise he was doing something else with his hands until he pulled away an inch, a feral grin showing his canines. His chest heaved as he looked at my wrists and knees and the knots he’d tied there.
I tugged. They didn’t budge.
“You fucking—”
Then his stupid, smirking mouth was back on mine.
I took it, opened to it, whimpered into it as he slid a hand between us and swiped his fingers down my centre.
