Page 76 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

Her body fought me even as it followed mine, all fire and rebellion, every twist of her hips daring me to lose control. I matched her step for step, forcing her rhythm to meet mine, bending her resistance into submission without breaking it. Gods, I lived for this fight.

I caught Erebus watching from the edge of the floor, his expression forged from shadow. His darkness pressed like a challenge, but my mouth curved into a smile as I spun Cordelia, tugging her back to my chest with a snap of power in the move. His gaze was nothing compared to the feel of her body flush against mine, her breath skittering as my lips brushed the shell of her ear.

‘You think the god of darkness could keep up with you?’ I murmured, just for her. ‘He’d vanish the second you burned too bright.’

She stiffened, her glare shooting up at me, but her pupils were wide, her chest heaving. ‘Oh, don’t worry, sea god. If I burn too bright, I’ll make sure you’re standing close enough to get singed.’

I chuckled, low and dark. Gods, her fury only made her more irresistible.

Then—my attention snagged again. Zeus. My ever-smug brother, now standing even closer to Bronte, leaning in as if he owned the space around her, his gaze locked on her sharp mouth. She cut him down with words—of course she did, that witch had teeth—but the bastard only looked more enthralled.

I almost laughed out loud, pulling Cordelia into a tighter spin. Bronte was going to eat Zeus alive… and he was going to love every bite.

The music swelled, and I dipped Cordelia low, her hair spilling as her breath caught. My hand lingered at her throat, thumb grazing over her pulse, a silent reminder that no matter how hard she fought me, her body knew me already. My storm lived in her veins now.

Her lips parted like she might hurl an insult—or beg. Gods, I wanted both.

I dragged her back upright, hips colliding with mine, the heat of her undeniable. ‘Look at me, Little Red,’ I growled low. ‘Not Erebus. Not anyone but me.’

Her glare locked on mine, a spark dancing, fire skimming oil. ‘You want me to look only at you? Then earn it. Otherwise, I’ll keep looking wherever, and at whoever, I damn well please.’ Stubborn to the last, but her fingers tightened on my shoulder, betraying the truth of her body’s needs.

Around us, the world blurred—the glittering ballroom, the jealous gods, the watching subjects. It was all background noise. All I knew was the taste of her breath, the heat of her body, the promise of war in her glare… and as I spun her once more, I thought of Erebus fading into shadow, of Zeus falling to Bronte’s sharp tongue, and of Cordelia, mine, always mine, no matter how viciously she denied it.

The tempest in me roared.

The music ended, but the storm inside me did not. I held her too long, my hand still at her waist, my thumb brushing the bare skin of her neck as if it belonged to me. She looked up at me, breathless, furious, her lips opened, a fresh barb hovering on her tongue.

I didn’t give her the chance.

‘Enough,’ I snapped, not loud enough for anyone else to hear. My hand closed over hers, firm and possessive, and I dragged her from the dance floor before she could protest. She hissed my name, but she followed, her smaller strides forced to match mine as I cut through the throng of revellers.

Zeus’s amused smirk caught my eye as I passed him. Bronte’s glare sharpened into knives, and Erebus melted back into shadow, expression unreadable. I ignored them all.

I wasn’t about to let anyone else look at her like that again. Not tonight.

We stepped into the expansive hallway beyond the ballroom, and with a swirl of seafoam and mist, I swept us both away—straight into the mortal realm.

When her feet touched ground again, her head snapped up, eyes flashing. ‘What the fuck⁠—?’

‘Dinner,’ I interrupted, my voice low, controlled only by sheer force of will.

She blinked, disoriented, then her gaze darted around. We stood in the heart of a restaurant so exclusive that mortals would kill for a reservation. The décor gleamed with understated elegance, and beyond the glass doors stretched a serene courtyard—bamboo swaying gently, koi flickering through a pond, harp music drifting lazily through the air. The very atmosphere radiated imperial opulence.

Her lips parted, eyes wide. ‘Where⁠—'

‘King’s Joy, Beijing,’ I said smoothly, steering her towards the prime table in the courtyard—one with an uninterrupted view of the historic temple framed by lantern light and the lush garden beyond.

The maître d’ rushed forward, bowing deeply. ‘Mr Thalassa.’ He gestured to the table they always kept for me.

‘Only the finest for my queen,’ I murmured into her ear, my hand finding the small of her back.

Her head whipped to me, that familiar fire snapping in her eyes. ‘I am not your queen.’

I smiled, sharp as a blade. ‘Not yet.’ Her returning scowl was delicious.

I pulled out her chair, ignoring her glower, waiting until she sat before taking the seat opposite. My gaze never left her face, drinking in every spark of fury, every twitch of dissent. She could hate me all she wanted—so long as she was here, with me, where I could keep her safe.

And gods help anyone who tried to take her from me.