“We’ll leave later, then.”
Corvan’s look of surprise morphs into a look of pure delight. His lips curve into a wicked smile. “Finley, I was prepared to be patient, you know. To take things slowly as you ease into your new life here. I would never have suspected you’d have such a side to you.”
I return his smile with a slightly devious one of my own. “Well, you hardly know me. It’s been less than a week since you bit me.”
He feigns contrition. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“It was rather shocking.”
“I was a desperate man. The very moment I set eyes upon you, this unbelievable thirst came over me. I can’t explain it. It was like nothing I’ve ever known before.” He draws a deep, ragged breath. “Please. Don’t drag this torture out. I don’t plan on losing control like that ever again.”
“And what if I tell you that I wouldn’t consider it a total disaster if it were to happen again? Though I would also be pleased if you developed restraint…”
“Do you really understand what you’re asking?”
“I think I do. I know what you are now. You don’t terrify me.”
“I’m very pleased to hear that. But… do you trust me yet?”
Well, you could have done whatever you wished with me, and you didn’t.
He could have locked me away and drained me to death.
He could have killed my father and let Aderick die.
He could have abandoned Tyron and its people.
But he didn’t.
He isn’t that kind of man.
“I trust you enough to make an advance on you.” I feel strangely confident. I don’t know why. Maybe this is all his doing.
“Well, that’s a start. A welcome one. Because you should.” Corvan rises and moves until he’s standing behind my chair. His hands come to rest on my shoulders. His touch sends a pleasant thrill through me. He leans in. “So. You’re making an advance on me, hmm?”
I look up into his startling eyes; his impossible-to-resist face. “A woman has needs, too.”
“I’ve never known a woman who’s as straight and to the point as you, Finley.”
I tip my head upwards. My smile is sharp-edged. “I’m probably not like the women you know from the Court. Anyhow, I should hope you haven’t… known anyone else like me, I mean.”
“It’s as I said last night. Nothing else compares.” He gently caresses my neck with his gloved hand, making me yearn for the feeling of his bare fingers on my skin. “You only have to say the word.”
“The word?”
“What do you want, Finley?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Corvan?”
“Maybe I just want to hear you say it.” His voice is a deep, irresistible rumble.
I melt under his touch. Fine. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to his dangerousness; his otherness, which is wrapped up in gentleness and decency, surprising me. All right, fine. I want this man. “I want you to fuck me, Corvan.”
He leans in. His lips meet mine in a slow, searing kiss. “That can certainly be arranged.”
Why should I hold back when I have nothing to lose? When he’s so obviously willing?
I bring my hands up to his. He slips his fingers into mine and pulls me to my feet, turning me around, leading me away from my almost-finished breakfast.
We pass the window, where he draws the curtain half-shut. “I’ve missed the sunshine, but not that much.” His eyes glow in the shadows.
He leads me across to the bed, where he places his hand on the small of my back and gently lays me down.
I stare up at him. “You’re obviously not worried about doing this out of wedlock.”
He chuckles; a low, decadent sound that invades every fiber of my being. “Do I look like I give a shit about convention?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
“Surprisingly?” He arches one eyebrow dangerously.
“You’re an imperial prince, aren’t you? Your people own the conventions.”
“All the more reason why I don’t care.”
“What a privileged bastard.”
He smiles; fang-tipped, mischievous. “And I intend to use it, my sweet Finley.”
Deft hands strip my jacket from my arms. He pulls my tunic over my head and unfastens the buttons of my trousers, pulling them down to reveal my silken panties. My boots fly off, followed by my pants.
He moves too fast.
He’s too much. I can’t resist.
All of a sudden, I’m naked before him. The room is toasty warm thanks to the glowing embers in the hearth. My body is on fire.
Corvan looks me up and down. He moves until he’s poised above me like a big predator, and there’s hunger in his gaze.
Wild energy ripples through my body, heightening my arousal. Corvan gently strokes the side of my face with his gloved fingers. “You’re stunning,” he murmurs. “I’m a very fortunate man.”
I count my blessings as he peels off his gloves and discards them. He cups my face with his warm hands and kisses me.
His taste reminds me of morning frost and smoky spice.
I gaze at him, taking in his powerful form, wondering what he’d be like underneath his clothing.
As if reading my mind, he rises up on his knees and discards his jacket. His black shirt follows.
I stifle a gasp.
All of a sudden, he’s bare-chested, looming over me like a pale god, only he can’t possibly be a god, because his body is covered in scars.
Do gods wear scars?
Faded to pale pinkish-brown, they’re a shade darker than his alabaster skin. Some are long and vicious and jagged, others short and precise, as if he’s been stabbed. One crosses his taut abdomen just above his navel.
Corvan isn’t one of those nobles who holds an empty military rank just for show. This man has known real combat. His body tells of a life sworn to the blade.
And in spite of the marks of violence, his body is chiseled perfection; abdominal muscles etched into a pack of eight, chest and arms broad and powerful. Every inch of him is cut and honed. If not for his scars, he could be a living sculpture.
A soft whimper escapes me.
He lowers himself, pressing his palms into the bed on either side of my head. “Caught you staring.”
“Your scars…” I whisper.
“Happened before I died.” His lips quirk wryly. “I’m a soldier.”
A tendril of horror tugs at my heart. “Some of those wounds look like they must’ve been awful, Corvan.”
“I can’t expect unquestioning loyalty from my men if I don’t fight the same battles they do. A commander who’s afraid of going to the frontlines is weak. You don’t have to look so worried, Finley. This body can’t scar anymore. Besides, I’d like to think you were staring at more than just my scars.”
I was. A flush fills my cheeks. He kisses me again; deeply, savagely. I yield, enjoying the feeling of his big, warm body hovering just above mine; his big hands sliding over my shoulders, down my sides, my waist, over my hips, until he finds the edges of my undergarments and deftly slips them off.
He hooks his arm under my right thigh and pushes my leg up.
Then he buries his face between my thighs and delivers bliss with his tongue.
I close my eyes and dig my fingers into the silken sheets, whimpering softly as waves of pleasure build and build.