She presses her body against mine, and I groan. Without conscious choice, I grip her thighs.
My vision is unfocused. She is tempting me. Did the priestesses put her up to this? Did they offer her something?
No, I know her better than that.
My next thought is even more horrifying: does she know?
“Believe,” she whispers. “Believe in me. In us.”
“It will be our death,” I tell her honestly. She rocks her body against mine, and I lose this battle of wills.
“Then, what a glorious death it would be.”
The next thing I know, her lips are on mine. Her body is pressed against mine.
My God, it’s heaven.
I succumb to her touch, though I know it will be my demise.
51
Lina
Ican barely believe that I have the courage to throw myself at a Drak’yn warrior— talk about desperate. But his body feels incredibly good against mine.
I am straddling his lap as he sits up on the bed. His hands grasp my thighs so tightly it hurts.
He said there was no rightness here, no justice. But right now, I cannot help but think he’s wrong.
This is right.
Somehow, against every ounce of logic I can muster, I am soaring above the clouds in heaven with a monster.
He can be my escape. Not by stealing a key, not by ending his life.
He is not what the others claim. He wants me deeply. He has saved me over and over again. He chose me.
Now, let’s see how far he will take me.
His lips part, and he pulls me deeper, falling back into the bed. I moan at the soft touch of his tongue against mine. His hands are rough as they slide up my legs?—
He freezes as his fingers find the handle of the blade on my thigh.
I brace myself for his reaction. He tugs at the blade and then flips it casually over his fingers, all while keeping his soft lips against my collarbone.
“Does my dove have claws after all?” he asks.
My breath trembles. “Is that a problem?”
He chuckles. “You seem so sweet and innocent. Tell me, what did you plan to do with the blade?”
“Slit your throat.” I don’t know why the words come out so harshly. It’s what she told me to do—the girl in the dungeon. My soul rattles at just the thought of completing that wild plan. I’d never fully considered it, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered.
Could I have killed the man who stole me? Could I kill the man who never touched me against my will but instead protected me at every opportunity?
When he laughs, full and hearty, his arm tightens around my waist, tugging me tighter against him. I rock my hips involuntarily, as if my body were begging to be closer. Begging to slide against him. More tension. More friction. More everything.
But then, the blade is in my hand, moving toward him.
