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Her anger grew quickly, electrifying the air. “Unless some man, some elite should want me, then it’s another deal to make, isn’t it? How much money was I worth?” She shot out a single, angry laugh. “What am I thinking, I’m hardly of any real value, I’m one of a million nuns they can siphon from the churches and use for whatever the hell they want.”
Lore watched as she headed for the door. He broke through his shock and hurried after her. “Miss Sheridan, you misunderstand.”
She whipped around and faced him, tears making her eyes glitter like gold. “Don’t lie to me, Mr. Lore. I know your filthy kind. You’re above every law that exists and whatever you want, you get, and it doesn’t matter what you maim or crush or kill to get it.”
“Natasha,” he pled.
“Go on then,” she said, placing herself just before him. “Do it,” she dared. “Take it. Take what you want, I have no say in it.”
His hunger flared at the invitation, and he stepped back.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped, pushing him. “Is the King shocked?” She pushed him again. “You’ve never had your precious cargo fight back?” Again she shoved him, her anger feeding his arousal. His back met a wall on her next push, and she bravely stood mere inches before him, hate and loathing in her gaze. “What’s the matter? Am I too much work for you, Mr. King? Did you want a sex slave that lays down and takes it? Well, that’s never going to happen, I’m done laying down to die and if you’re not forcing me, then I’m marrying a soldier that will protect me from people like you.”
She spun away and he snatched her arm, pulling her against him. At seeing the flare of desire in her eyes, he covered her shocked mouth with his and kissed her. She latched her fingers to his face and held him, the tiny act declaring war inside him.
“I am not that kind of man,” he swore. His gifts wrapped the words in truth and blasted them into her lungs.
She gasped in response and fought to kiss him back. Lore searched along her dress, desperate to get to the silk under the barrier. His other hand moved to her neck and jaw, feeling how real she was, how perfect as their tongues danced to their merciless, buried hungers.
“I need to feel you,” he said, as he fought with her skirt, getting her immediate assistance. She grabbed his hand and moved it right to the treasure he had to have, her breaths hot.
Their moans clashed the second his fingers slid in her panties. She was boiling hot and silky, and her hunger somehow rivaled his.
“Lore!” she cried as he found her entrance and slid his middle finger inside her. She held his wrist, forcing him as deep as he could go, her moans quickly peaking as she clawed his skin and flicked her hips into his grinding palm. Her orgasm hit him as hard as it did her, right as voices reached him from the hall. He spun with her behind the bookshelf, his hand still hammering against her body. He covered her cries with his groaning mouth as fire raged through him. The voices faded, leaving only their shocked breaths in the aftermath of ecstasy.
At feeling her trying to pull away, he held her against him and pressed her tiny head against his chest. The idea of her being with a cyborg suddenly panicked and enraged him. He was ready to offer whatever sum of money he needed to have her, do whatever was required.
“Let me go,” she pled.
Her tiny beg wreaked havoc in him as he complied. He watched as she ran to the door, the need to stop her nowhere within him. Because it wasn’t necessary. She was now his lethal obsession. And there was nowhere either of them could run to escape it.
****
CELESTE NEEDED TO GETa hold of herself. Kaphas needed her to be a...an example of...sisterly strength. And a friend. Mercy, he was only seventeen, a precious...young boy, not even a man.
She swallowed, keeping her gaze off his naked upper body. He went without covering because it bothered his skin, which practically demanded the human eyeball to stare right at. Mostly because all the black on it seemed to move, she was sure. She didn’t want to ask in case he was embarrassed or considered it... private.
“I can sleep on the floor,” he said, pointing to a corner.
“Oh... I.” She eyed her bed and then the love seat. “I can sleep there,” she pointed to it, “and you can have the bed. It’s the proper way.”
“According to who?” he wondered, aiming his greatest distraction right at her—his eyes. They also changed colors it seemed. Always various shades of gold.
“The bible,” she sputtered without thought. “Bible etiquette.” Which he clearly had never heard of, he was only two days old. No, seventeen. And would be twenty-two tomorrow. Then twenty-seven the next day. She was twenty-eight. After, he’d move on to thirty-two.
“This was probably a bad idea,” he said, lowering his head.
“What?” she panicked. “Why?”
“You’re not comfortable with me here. I’m not Handy,” he said, or dear Lord apologized.
“No, you’re not, you’re Kaphas. Your very own, very handsome self. Nearly a man. And you’ll get a woman that loves you very much, I’m adamantly certain of it.”
“I think I imprinted on you,” he muttered, walking to the bed and laying on it, putting his hands behind his head while staring at the ceiling.
“What do you mean?”
“You were the first woman I met and now I can’t imagine having another. Maybe for my next birthday that’ll change.”
