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My cock twitches again when I see she hasn't moved an inch. She's still sprawled across the bed, her thighs parted, her perfect pussy peeping from between them.
I settle beside her, running my hand down her thigh.
"Mm," she moans, those sapphire eyes fluttering open.
"I'm going to clean you up, sweet Thalia," I murmur, carefully washing away the traces of blood on her thighs before I clean between her legs.
She watches me the whole time, shivering.
I toss the rag toward the door, crawling back onto the bed with her to pull her into my arms. She burrows into me with the happiest little sigh.
"Are you sore, angel?"
"No," she lies.
I chuckle, knowing she's full of shit. I took her hard—harder than I should have.
"There's a hot spring nearby. We'll go in the morning so you can soak."
She's quiet for a minute. "Does it have fish?"
"No." I smile, brushing my lips across her shoulder. "There are no fish in it."
"Okay," she whispers, seeming relieved. "I guess I'll go."
I don't tell her that not going wasn't an option. She's absolutely going. I don't want her in pain. The thought alone is intolerable.
"What do you have against fish, hmm?"
"Nothing. I just don't want to swim with them."
I laugh quietly, dragging her deeper into my arms. "You're perfect, sweet Thalia," I breathe, holding her close. "So fucking perfect."
She hums, already on the verge of sleep.
I cuddle her against me, listening as her breathing evens out and her body goes lax in my arms. My heart pulses with a strange mix of love and possession, and I realize that it's no longer enough to simply have her body.
I want her heart too.
No matter what it takes, I'm claiming every piece of it as my own.
Chapter Eight
Thalia
"Come with me," Troy whispers, running his fingers up and down my back in lazy patterns. "It'll do you good to get away from the cabin for a little while, angel. You've been here for days."
I turn my head to the side, looking at him. His offer is tempting. It's been nearly a week since I stumbled upon the cabin, but it's too risky.
If I go back to the Stonehaven with him, his father might see me. Or someone else might. They'll tell him who I am, and my carefully constructed house of cards will collapse.
I'm not ready for that yet. Every day, the connection between us grows more intense. His games get more twisted and more delicious. I know he feels something for me. I feel it when he touches me. But I don't know if it's enough yet.
If he finds out who I am, will he run?
The possibility is too terrifying. Because every day that I spend with him, I fall more deeply in love. I'm consumed by him—his touch, the filthy things he says to me, the unholy things he does to me, the way he holds me so tightly at night.
The thought of losing him is overwhelming—not because of the curse and what might happen with it, but because he feels like a piece of me. Something vital and necessary.
