Page 9 of The Harlequin


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I glare at him, my cheeks burning with a mix of anger and hatred. “I would never put on a show for you,” I retort, jaw twitching with fury.

“Yes, you would.” He strides towards me.

Our eyes meet. My skin warms, fizzes, tingles with heat. How does he do this to me? It’s like every emotion – fear, anger, sadness – bubbles to the surface of my skin, and multiplies, and swells, and turns into undeniable, painfully loud, screaming thunderbolts of arousal instead.

As if he is the only thing that will soothe the way I feel.

And yet also the only thing to ignite it.

“I despise you for what you have done,” I whisper. “What you did to the Shadowkind. What you did to Kayan. What you did to me. Don’t think that because we have a common cause now, we are friends.”

Eldrion’s jaw clenches, his eyes hardening. “What did I do to you, Alana?”

I stare at him for a long moment, then whisper, “You made me want you even though I hate you.”

He slams a heavy hand onto my waist and tugs me towards him. “I could say the same thing to you,” he growls.

I can’t stop looking at his lips. I want to melt into him. I want his hands, and fingernails, and teeth on my skin. I want him to destroy me so I can no longer feel anything except him.

“Finn is more powerful than you now.” I meet his eyes.

“You think I don’t know that? I can feel the emptiness where my powers used to be.” He is still holding on to my waist. “You’re an empath, Alana. How the fuck could you not see it?”

“Don’t you dare put this on me,” I retort, caught between feeling utterly distraught and utterly furious. “You’re the one who started this, Eldrion. You brought me here. You put me in Finn’s way. You caused this, not me.”

I don’t believe what I’m saying, but perhaps Eldrion does because his eyes flash with anger, and for a moment, I think he might actually strike me.

Instead, he grabs my face roughly, his fingers digging into my cheeks. I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips as he leans in, so close that I can count the flecks of gold in his stormy grey eyes. There’s a hunger there, a raw intensity that matches my own, and before I can protest, his mouth crashes down on mine.

The kiss is brutal, all teeth and tongues and pent-up frustration. Eldrion’s grip on me tightens, bruising and possessive, as if he’s trying to brand me as his own. But I refuse to submit easily, teeth nipping at his lower lip in defiance.

In a frenzy, he rips my clothes off and we stumble towards the armchair.

My nails rake down his back, leaving angry red marks beneath his wings, but Eldrion only growls in response, then spins me around and pushes me down so I’m kneeling in the chair, leaning over the back, waiting for him to enter me.

When he does, he slams into me so hard the chair nearly topples over. I brace a hand on the wall to steady us. He hooks one arm around my waist and furiously circles my already swollen clit. There is no warm-up, no slow building of pleasure. It hits me like a tsunami and is almost painful in its intensity.

It is so much, I can barely make a sound.

I bite my lip, grip the chair and the wall, push back onto him again and again and again.

He calls my name. Utters it like a curse word. Like he hates me, and hates how much he wants me, and this is his vengeance.

This exquisite torture is how he will end me.

With waves of pleasure that blind me to anything but him.

His thrusts are a promise that he will not stop until I am drowning in him, and only him. Until he has dragged me down to the depths of my own desire and abandoned me there, unable to breathe, tethered to his darkness.

When he comes, the sound of his release drives me over the precipice of my own orgasm.

I shudder and quake beneath him, my body turning to nothing but a blazing pool of skin and flesh and bone.

I expect him to pull away from me quickly and leave me quivering and shaking and cold without his presence. But he stays, arm curled around me, holding me as I tremble.

When I start to cry, he bites my shoulder. But it is tender. And the tenderness makes me cry harder. “I hate you,” I sob.

“I know.” The bite turns to a kiss.

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