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Inching closer, I smell her need that mirrors my craving. I want to bite her, to mark her, to claim her as mine forever. Possessive desire floods me, drowning all rational thought and I claw back to logic and reason long enough to know that if I miscalculate my next move in this dangerous game of ours, I won’t have another chance. She’ll walk away, taking everything with her. Grappling with my spiraling control, I remind myself that I’m a king, the one whom thousands look to for guidance.
I can handle one little human warrior.
Meg sits at the edge of the tub, her gaze not meeting mine. Fuck. I need to slow down, to regain the discipline that I’m known for. After being ruled for centuries by my appetite, I learned to curb my impulses and became a master of restraint. I won’t let lust wreck whatever future I could have with my mate. With a shuddering breath, I push it down, driving it behind massive mental walls so my mate can set the pace—however long it takes her to want me a fraction as much as I hunger for her.
She wets her lips in a slow, spellbinding press and pull of her mouth and pink tongue that has me straitjacketing myself. I won’t resort to trickery like Theo, the violence of the krakens searching for human mates, or the regret of the twin king gargoyles who seek redemption in their matches. To win my mate, I’ll woo her until she wants my kiss, my touch, and someday—
Meg palms my cock through what’s left of my trousers. My balls tighten, and I almost come on the spot. This woman’s more dangerous than a siren and a sorceress put together.
So much for managing my mate. She’s handling me. And given the way my pulse roars in my ears, she’s likely to kill me.
12
MEG
Sex with Leander might kill me, but dear warrior cows and baby demon kitties, what a way to go. Running my fingers along his erection, I explore the bulge in his pants that keeps going… and going. There’s no way we’ll fit, but I’m up for a challenge.
Since my near-death experience in the market, I can’t imagine limiting myself to humans, not when life can be ridiculously short and someone who calls himself a monster is more of a man than anyone I’ve ever met. If I only have a few days to figure out if this sudden rush of need comes from a mating bond or just sexual attraction, I’m not wasting time.
When Leander gives a deep groan that sounds like absolute surrender, I can’t wait to tease another out of him. I had thought to shower together, but squeezing his broad shoulders in the glass box wouldn’t leave room for me. Hell, his horns curve above the showerhead, and his hooves might break the fancy porcelain tiles. The tub’s out too. It’d be like trying to shove a tiger into a teacup. So I’ll need to improvise. I work at the buttons of his fly, planning to see if he tastes as good as he looks.
He steps away and pulls me off the edge of the tub into his arms in one beat of my drumming heart. I’ve always been too heavy, too curvy, too much for men in my world. Not Leander. He holds me as if he could carry me all day and not get tired of my weight against his chest.
Denied my fun, I lift my hand to push at him but stop when my fingers connect with the hair on his shoulders. It’s softer than I suspected, a combination of coarse and silky that makes me want to rub my hands all over him to see if the rest of the short hair covering his body feels the same.
“May I kiss you?” he asks, his tone sharp like the supreme ruler voice he used earlier.
I go damp at the command there. Who’d have thought I have an authority kink? Certainly not me, with the beta boys I dated. Not me who got called crazy, lazy, fat. Stop it. I won’t let past cruel manipulations and gaslighting into this moment. Not when Leander stares at me as if I’m a goddess, as if he might die if I don’t say yes.
My breath catches on a gasp of fear of him ruining me for others. What if I can never go back to boring human banging after epic sex magic?
“You should answer soon, little warrior,” he says, “or I’ll put you down and leave you here.”
Leave me wanting? He wouldn’t! I stare at the serious expression in his gaze, that solemn set of his mouth, the restraint in his touch. He totally would. Nuh-uh, I’m not letting that happen. “Kiss me however, wherever, whenever.” My answer comes out breathy, femme fatale edging toward an asthmatic wheeze with a side begging. Because I will beg if he uses that stern voice again.
“As my lady commands.” He sets me on the counter, spreading my legs obscenely wide so he can stand between them. The move knocks me off balance, and I have to prop my hands behind me to hold the pose. He pulls the tattered silk over my knees and higher in a slow slide against my skin that makes me shiver. I struggle to remember my plan to seduce my minotaur, the details going fuzzy with each glide of his fingers on my trembling legs.
I stare at his wide mouth beneath the gold ring in his snout, imagining how his kiss will feel. His tongue scratched at my fingertips earlier, slick and rough at the same time. Remembering sends heat through my body, and I wish I could squeeze my thighs together or touch myself—anything to ease the building pressure. I need to chase relief, yet Leander takes his bull-headed time, not rushing that agonizing slip of silk gathering higher.
“I thought you were going to kiss me.” My pitiful whine comes out before I can bite it back. Leander’s dark chuckle rolls through me, and I want to grind against him.
“I will,” he promises, not sounding my level of desperate in the least.
How did my plan to convince him to let me do naughty, wicked things turn on me so quickly? I had expected to be the temptress, not the tormented.
I arch my back, which does nothing to get me closer to his face with the way he has me pinned. Though it does push my tits up for him to admire. Men rarely love all my curves, but my breasts? Those stop traffic.
He skims one hand over the swell of my breasts, my stomach, my hips. “You are perfection.” The word comes out like a prayer, and I need more of his devotion. Forget the sun. The labyrinth doesn’t need it when Leander’s praise can heat my face, soak my panties, send sweat breaking out over my skin, and have me writhing.
“Who knew dirty talk could be so proper?” I try to tease, but it turns into a plea.
“There’s nothing proper in what I crave from you, but if it’s dirty talk you want—”
“Not now.” I hook my foot around his thigh, intent on pulling him closer, but it’s like moving a mountain. I ache for him, and my sweat-dampened hands squeak against the marble behind me.
“No?” His hot breath teases the curls around my ear, and I need that heat to fill me. If I could balance without holding myself up with my hands, maybe I could tug his face the few inches separating us. I try, but the angle’s all wrong and I’m forced to brace myself. By the twist of his lips under that shining nose ring, he knows exactly how he’s torturing me by drawing lazy circles on my thighs, higher and closer to where I need him.
“Filthy talk later,” I say. “Kiss now.”
