Page 92 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
Opposite, silence, but the muscle in Sepher’s jaw was going crazy. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken the glass in his hand, his knuckles were so white. He needed a reminder. I may not be his pet anymore, but they all had to believe I was.
So I laughed and tossed my head as I cosied up to Roark. “Because that would be admitting defeat.”
I kept my attention on the grey-skinned fae I was sitting on, but I couldfeelmy prince’s eyes drilling into me.
“Defeat?” Roark arched an eyebrow. “How do you reckon that? I don’t see how a little thing like you could defeat one of us.”
“No, not in a fight, I admit. I’m so small compared to you.” I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, selling my slight stature in an attempt to make him feel even larger. It was a technique I’d used with patrons who tipped better when they were made to feelsobig and strong.
“But there are other kinds of defeat.” I shook my head and clicked my tongue like he should know better, before swinging to my feet and over to Thurl on his other side. I smirked at Sepher as I bent over the black-haired fae and stole a raspberry from his drink, caressing his right shoulder. “If he told me to get off you, he’d have to admitwhyhe wanted it.”
Thurl lifted his chin, eyes narrowing. “And why is that?”
I flashed him a grin and patted his cheek. “I’m so glad you asked.” Straightening, I turned to the group, who all stared at me now, their cards forgotten. “His defeat would be admitting that he’s obsessed with the witch who cursed him.”
Their eyes widened. Several smirked. A couple chuckled and bent together in hushed conversation. Celestine raised an eyebrow at me as though wondering what game I was playing. No doubt she’d ask next time we were alone.
But when I met Sepher’s gaze, it wasn’t smouldering with hate. It wasn’t clenched up tight at me touching his friends, as it had been moments ago.
No. It was something else entirely. Something bright and wondering. Something I had never seen before in an audience or even from Eric. Something that I wanted, but that also made me want to squirm in discomfort.
I hated that its name eluded me. Even more than that, I hated that I grasped for it so desperately.
39
Winning was as much of an aphrodisiac for Sepher as it was for me, because he didn’t wait until we reached his rooms to work his way under my clothes. In the ruined courtyard with the open dome, he bent me over the mossy rubble. One hand on the nape of my neck, he pulled up my dress before sinking his fingers between my legs. My gasps drifted through the chilly space and up into the night sky.
“Tell me what you’ll do to the killer when you find out who did it, Zita,” he purred into my ear as he circled my slit. One finger rested on my back entrance.
My fingertips sank into the damp moss. “I’ll kill him.” I couldn’t help picturing a man as the murderer, even though Celestine and Mayrie were both potential suspects.
“No.” His touch stilled, suspending my pleasure. “More. Give me details. Tell meexactlywhat you want to do to him once he’s at your mercy, my wicked little witch.”
My heart raced, pumping heat to my skin despite the cold air caressing it. “I’ll make him kneel.” I could see it, a man on his knees before me, his features indistinct.
“Good.” He plunged into me, making me whimper into the darkness. “What else?”
“I’ll stand over him.” My voice was breathless and raw as he worked me. “I’ll look down on him and remind him of what he did.”
“Yes. That’s it. And if I gave you back your iron blade, what would you do with that?”
The thought of it sliced through me with bright, hot light like the kind Sepher was driving me towards. “Iron burns your kind, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” His grip on my nape loosened just long enough for him to shift it to my hair. He pulled, arching me back, the tension in those muscles heightening the tension building in my pussy as his fingers drove into it. “It scorches horribly. They’d suffer at just its touch.”
“Then I’ll caress him with it. His throat, his chest, his face, all the places he might’ve touched her.” My eyes burned, but the pleasure in me burned hotter.
“So vicious, love. So, so vicious.” He gave a chuckle as dark as the empty courtyard and removed his fingers. I made a sound of complaint, which only made him chuckle more. “Patience, my cruel queen.” He smeared my wetness over my back entrance before returning to the pumping rhythm in my pussy and the circling sweep over my clit. He pressed another digit over my arse, not quite entering. “Then what, my little villainess?”
My breaths twitched in pleasured anticipation. As my chest, my throat, and low, low in my belly grew too tight, like he was pulling every part of me taut with the fist in my hair. “I’ll say her name as I cut his throat, so she’s the last thing he hears. And I’ll taste his blood, bathe in it, and at last, I’ll have peace and so will she.”
“Good girl.” With those words, he sank into my backside, and it was too much.
The arching pull, his touch invading and circling me in three places, and the words said with such fierce pride. Too much to bear. Too much to contain. I fell apart on his fingers, crying out into the darkness, lost in it.
He turned me and gathered me close while I panted through the aftershocks. Overhead, the clouds had lifted, revealing a scattering of stars as though they were the pieces he’d broken me into.
He grinned and kissed me. “Or maybe I should’ve said bad girl.” He bit his lip and ground against me, spiking fresh pleasure through my nervous system. “But I do so like it when you’re bad.”
