Page 44 of The Hunted

The whipping branches of trees.

Falling rain.

Swirling clouds.

Eryx swore the air around her shifted when her thighs tightened around his waist. She moved again, and he fucking choked on the words that burst from his lips without any warning, “Stop moving like that.”

He needed to think.

To breathe.

But wasn’t he?

Her wide violet eyes stared down at him, and for a second, he was stuck staring again. At all her nakedness, the softness of her curves and the way her wet, red hair fell over her bare breasts. Her nipples that had already hardened into little peaks.

Was that because of the cold air?

Or because she could feel his hard cock pressed against the soft cleft between her thighs?

She looked … wild.

Not because she was naked, or even because those crazy curls of hers had started to frizz at the ends to make them curl even more. But rather, the look in her eyes. The way her pupils had blown so huge and dark. It was in the parting of those red lips, and the way her tongue peeked out to wet the seam that had him grunting out another sound.

His words didn’t seem to want to come.

Just noises.

Sounds.

He felt like an animal. Like the scent of her, and the sight of her streaked with bright purple and red—their blood, he knew—was enough to make him want to put her on her back, spread her wide, and split her open with his cock until the only thing he could hear was the sounds of her pleasure while she cut lines down his back with those same nails she’d used to allow him to breathe.

And Gods …

He knew that was wrong.

Everything about that was so entirely wrong.

He hated this creature.

This woman.

He’d spend months obsessing and dreaming about the things he wanted to do to her once he had caught her. And here she was atop him, waiting, like he might tell her to get on her knees and she would do exactly that.

Why did his mind feel so light?

So high?

She shifted again, her next inhale of air catching in her throat when his hands landed hard on her hips. His fingers flexed, digging into soft flesh that felt entirely like the curves of a woman. Oh, she didn’t say a thing.

She also didn’t have to.

He swore he could still hear her.

Somehow.

It’s the thrall—the blood.

The smear of red blood on her upper lip disappeared when her tongue licked it away. The guttural sound that followed from Eryx had her shuddering on top of him. He grabbed tighter to her hips, worried she might move.