Page 50 of Primal Hunger
“And I suppose, in my own strange way, I feel a connection with you. There is something stretching between us, Erin. I’m not sure what it is or what it means,” he admits. “Since it appears to me you will accept nothing less than the brutal truth.”
His words catch me off guard, and I struggle to process them. Syros, the collector of trinkets, the monstrous Grim with an appetite for human flesh, is harboring a connection with me?
“You’re resourceful. Brave. Stubborn. Quick-thinking. Those are all traits I can relate to in a way and admire,” he goes on.
“You make me sound too good to be true, when really, people think I’m a crackpot where I come from.”
“A crackpot?” he repeats, testing the word.
“Yeah, a crazy person. Believing in the things that are hard to find, like ghosts or aliens or Grims. There are people who look at me and think I’d be better off locked away somewhere,” I admit. “They don’t understand me or where I’m coming from.”
The corner of his jaw quirks up, and holy fuck, is that a smile? Is Syros literally smiling at me? It’s hard to tell with the skull face, but I think I’m getting the hang of interpreting his different gestures and expressions.
“Well, you persisted, and you found a Grim,” he says.
“Technically, you found me.”
“I guess you’re right.” He chuckles at my correction and closes the distance to begin washing my arm again.
And this time, I drop it from across my chest and let him. Despite his brutish nature and massive bulky size, his touch is gentle as he swipes the cloth over me.
I offer him a genuine smile, my skepticism giving way to a newfound warmth. “Well, I’m flattered by your compliments. You’ll probably change your mind when you get to know me. You’ll find I’m intolerable.”
“I highly doubt it.”
His concern warms parts of me better than the water. The area between my legs tingles the longer he brushes the cloth over my arms. He’s close. And he smells nice. There is a musky undertone coupled with the fresh scent of evergreen and ash.
After thoroughly washing my arms, Syros moves to my chest, draping the cloth across my collarbone.
His red eyes deepen in color and he slows, paying attention to the dip between my breasts.
I suck in a breath as he tentatively shifts the cloth down more.
“Every part of you. Remember?” he reminds me. “You’ll let me do this.”
Warmth sparks in my stomach and sinks lower. My body is coming alive, and I’m not about to stop him.
I’d let him do just about anything right now.
A smooth growl rumbles in his chest, almost akin to a purr, and his voice drops even lower. “You will let me take care of you and taste and fuck you as I want. Whether or not you like it, little human, you aremine.”
Chapter
Eighteen
Erin
Mine.
The word resonates in my chest, my throat growing tight at the implication, but the thought is drowned out a second later by the pounding throb between my thighs.
My nipples harden, and I catch myself biting down on my lip as he swirls the cloth over the left breast and then the right, paying special attention to both nipples. The friction on my skin is delicious.
My hands clench underneath the water and I hold his gaze, watching his tongue dip out of his maw and dance over his canines.
How can I be ready to go again?On no sleep, with no food or water, yet I’m acting sex-starved. It makes no sense to me, and the longer he works to massage my breasts, the less inclined I am to worry about it. I want him.
I clench my thighs together as my core goes molten with lust.
