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That was hardly a bargain. I would’ve laughed at the absurdity, if I could’ve done anything at all.
My gaze glued to the hand traveling back up his leg. Before my eyes, his claws shrunk, reducing to the size of an average faeman. The sight so baffled me, I hung on too long and didn’t look away before he gripped his length. Looking me straight in the eyes, he started pumping.
A low, deep hiss leaked through my gritted teeth. I was choking too hard on my groan to let that through—though my body betrayed me all the same.
I had no one to compare him to and still my mind supplied,Huge. Big. Powerful.All that and more described the massive, smooth cock rolling over his palm. Alisdair widened his legs and mine snapped shut—knees knocking together hard.
It wasn’t just the sight of his muscles clenching, toes curling, or lips parting. It was the unabashed shame of him. The pure truth that he didn’t care. Trapped in a carriage with a forced wife who hated and bargained to leave him at the earliest opportunity, he stretched bare and bold before me with no hesitation. No nervousness. No fear of rejection.
I’d never been so free and confident in all nineteen of my years.
My inner voice shouted for me to look away, but I couldn’t. Shadowsoul wouldn’t let me.
A mad statement, but true all the same. His heated gaze trapped me. His body held me in thrall. I could look nowhere but where he wanted me to.
Slow, firm, steady strokes milked his length, teasing the tiniest bead of seed to the tip. A strange noise filled the carriage. It took me a minute to realize it was my fingernails ripping through the seat cushion.
“Who are you putting on a show for?” he barked, making me jump. “No one can see you but me.”
My lips parted to ask what he meant, but I knew.
My hand pried off the cushion, taking a handful of goose feathers with me. I was still dressed in that obscene wedding gown with voluminous skirts. They were as cumbersome to put on and cut up as they were to lift.
They bunched up around my face—tickling my chin and nose. I couldn’t see my own hand traveling down, but he could. Alisdair furiously picked up the pace when my fingers slipped inside—an impossible speed that I couldn’t hope to match, but tried.
My fingers worked my toothless pussy, spreading lightning-charged heat zinging through my body. I felt hot and cold at the same time. Chilled but feverish. Disgusted but dirtily lustful likeI’d never been before. So this was why sex was worth the risk—huh.
“Legs open,” Shadowsoul ordered. “Feet on the seat.”
My lips peeled back from my teeth—only partially because I was moaning. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
He stalked over, a coiled serpent narrowing in on his prey. My head fell back as he leaned over me, like a lover waiting to receive a kiss, or a caged animal readying to bite.
“No, I don’t tell you,” he whispered. “You tell me. Youbegme down on those soft, supple knees—spilling the name you once cursed from your lips. Harder, faster, deeper,more.” Fingers trailed a slow goose pimple-popping trail down my forearm, giving me a chance to stop him—daring me to. “You teach me all the ways to make your nipples hard, your pussy wet, and heart race.”
Alisdair was so close, I could count every one of his lashes. He brought his hand down beside my head, overwhelming me with his heady scent of cedar, pine, and something exclusivelyhim. I didn’t fight it when his palm cupped the back of my hand. Nor did I stop him slipping two fingers past my folds to join mine.
“Tell me your secrets, little bird.” He pushed in deeper than I’d ever gone and spread his fingers—spread me—wide.
“Ah,” I moaned, eyes rolling back in my head.
“Sing.”
Sing.That’s what Mama used to do when I was young and she was well. She’d sing sweet, happy, beautiful songs to me, and a man whose laugh I only remembered in my dreams—Papa.
Mama didn’t become a war wife out of desperation, starvation, or boredom. She did it to be with my father. Son of a wealthy nobleman, his father forced a respectable, wealthy bride on him the minute Papa was of age. No one cared that he wantedto be with his true love. The girl he loved since she first set foot in his home, clinging to the skirts of their new housekeeper.
When Father was called up to fight, Mama seized her chance to be with him. Possibly her last chance if the All Mother called him home off the battlefield. She went to war with him. They were together, they were happy, and they had me.
Then, the law changed. It was decided that men were free to abandon the children fathered with war wives, and after Papa died—struck down near the Rajadom border—that’s exactly what his father did. My natural grandfather claimed my mother and I were no responsibility of Papa’s and refused to give us the home, money, and land he willed to my mother.
Left with nothing and now unable to take any other work, we moved to a tiny, broken-down pit in the Galley, and Kirwan entered our lives.
“Ah, Alisdair,” I breathed. “Yes, more, please.”
A deep, primal growl rumbled from the depths of his throat. The erection digging into my thigh got impossibly harder—begging for entrance.
“Oh, that’s so good,” I panted, chest heaving. “Alisdair, yes.”
