Page 124 of The Hunted

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“Well?” Arelle asked, all of her air gone.

Eryx’s hand flexed on her bare ass; hard enough to hurt, too. “Not a single mark.”

She swallowed hard, knowing that didn’t make a difference to him or the way he was feeling. She’d known it from the moment she’d stepped inside his chambers and the first word out of his mouth had been strip.

Arelle dared to ask why.

The look he returned her was more than enough for her to know he didn’t want her questions. He didn’t want her words or her stares or anything but for her gown to be a forgotten pile on the floor. The second she’d stood in nothing but her skin, he’d crossed the room and began what could only be described as inspecting her.

“It’s almost fucking insanity the way I can smell you from across the room. And when you lick your lips, I taste you on my fucking tongue. I can nearly imagine the feeling of you milking me.”

He’d told her those tantalizing things after he had moved to his knees to rove his palms over her backside.

She knew exactly what this was when he’d said, “He touched you.”

He wanted to see if the king—his father—had left a mark from when he’d put his hands on her backside at the table. How long had Eryx been stewing on that jealousy?

Jealous mates could be a dangerous thing.

So, she grinned when he murmured that pleased, “Not a single mark.”

“Even so,” she found herself replying, “I’m sorry.”

His grip on her flexed again. “Don’t be.”

“I think … I think they’re planning something.”

Eryx leaned close enough for his hot mouth to drag over the back of her thigh. He kissed the curve of her ass, and then inched over a bit more to bite the plump skin. Her air caught in her chest when a delicious heat shot through her body.

It certainly wasn’t the right time.

She should tell him what she heard—the wild things running through her mind that made her think they weren’t safe. That was hard to do, however, when Eryx’s hand was already between her thighs massaging her clit and slit before his mouth was in the same spot to tease her as well. He always looked his best after he’d buried his face between her thighs and ate her until she was a sobbing mess in his bed. There was something about the way he looked with her arousal still damp on his lips and hungry for more.

Shivers raced through her.

Like nothing at all, she was sky-high.

Somehow, she managed to tell him again, “I think … I think they’re planning something.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Shouldn’t we—”

“They’ll be doing nothing tonight.”

She decided to trust him.

What other choice did she have?

Besides, they always seemed to talk far better when the two of them were tangled in his bed. They could talk after … or plan.

Arelle panted and moaned her way through the first wave of pleasure. The roughness in Eryx’s touch when he bent her over the closest flat surface said he’d choke the second one out of her.

That was just as good, too.

Later, when a man from the stables came to knock on the bedchamber door to say there was trouble with the horses that they needed the prince for, Eryx had told her simply to, “Stay.”