Page 92 of Coal Hearts

My heart stuttered and hiccupped—far, far too aware of how precarious my life was. How one wrong move could snap the monster currently worshipping me with his strangely devoted violence.

I hated that his tongue was gentle.

I hated that his touch was kind.

And it scrambled my heart because the way he held me ached with tenderness, all while the reason he licked me reeked with depravity.

His head dipped, his tongue following the track of previous tears that’d rolled down my neck.

I flinched as he licked my collarbone.

I snapped.

With both hands, I shoved his chest and tumbled off his lap. “Let go of me!”

My suddenness gave me the advantage. I scrambled away from him as fast as I could, my knees burning on the William Morris carpet, my cheeks blazing that he could see every piece of me.

Tripping to my feet, I bared my teeth and backed away. “Don’t you ever do that again.” My voice mimicked the wafer-thin pages of a desecrated Bible. The translucent parchment that held ten commandments that everyone in this castle ignored.

Wiping his mouth, Henri climbed to his feet.

He swayed before bracing himself and balling his hands. His short dark hair gleamed from the skylight. His slightly hollow cheeks cast shadows along his stern jaw.

For a moment, it looked as if he’d stalk out of the library and leave, but then he gritted his teeth and prowled toward me.

His eyes locked on mine beneath furrowed brows.

I stumbled back.

But he just kept coming.

Kept closing the distance between us until I crashed against a shelf holding a thousand books, and his hands slammed on either side of my head, caging me in.

His nostrils flared as he towered over me.

My heart drummed against my ribs, petrified, angry, full of hate and heat.

He didn’t speak.

He pursed his lips, shook his head, and looked as if he held an entire conversation in his mind before bowing over me and nudging his nose to mine.

I tried to get away, but the books behind me kept me prone.

I hissed like a cornered cat.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he straightened and sighed. “I have a problem, Ily.” He chuckled blackly. “Actually, I have a million problems, but the one I’m most pissed about right now is the fact there are most likely a hundred cameras in this room, and each one just recorded me cradling you. Whoever is watching the feed will see a Master tending to his slave instead of using her. They’ll see me kissing your cheek—”

“You didn’t kiss me. You licked me.”

He held up a finger with an arrogant cock of his head. “Ah, ah. Let me finish.” Slamming his hand back against the bookcase, he muttered, “To an outsider, they’ll see a guest who’s already proved dubious about his commitment to play. A man invited on the whim of the owner. The owner who has most likely given his minions instructions to report on my every move.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth again. “So you see...what just happened is bad. Really bad. For both of us.” His teeth clacked together. “I told you not to cry in my presence. I told you not to fight me. I told you not to do anything to trigger this...this sickness inside me.”

The nerve of him!

The goddamn nerve to blame his actions on me.

Typical.