I feel the need to tell her what to expect, to warn her, to see if this is truly what she wants.
“I’m not gentle,” I say, thinking it might make her change her mind.
But if anything, her desire flames brighter.
“Could—could you be?” she asks.
I hesitate, not wanting to promise anything I can’t deliver. I’ve never—I’ve never beengentleor caring with anyone.
But for her, I’ll be anything. I nod.
Then, I take her into my arms and carry her to her bed.
This can’t be happening, I think. I’m not worthy of it. I’m not the type of person good things happen to. I don’t deserve them.
I don’t deserve her.
But if she wants me, I’ll have her anyway.
I carefully—gently—place her on her soft sheets. I feel a flash of worry, and tense, straighten. But her eyes are looking at the door.
She’s worried her guardians will walk in on us.
“We’re hidden,” I say, and I’ve never been more grateful for my shadows.
Slowly, I position myself over her. I bend down to kiss her again, to take this slow, to make sure, again, that this is what she wants ... when she reaches for my shirt, trying to yank it off. It doesn’t move.
I reach behind me and tear it over my head, feeling the heat of her desire burn even brighter. She’s staring at me—at my chest, my shoulders. No one has ever dared admire me. I wasn’t sure I was anything worthy of her admiration.
“You are perfect,” she says, and I’m irritated she would use that word on me, when she exists. I don’t compare to her. The world doesn’t compare to her. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know someone could look like this. It’s unfair, really.”
I laugh. “You’re doing very little to discourage mymagnificent ego.”
Her hands stroke my chest, awakening my every nerve. I’ve always felt cold, as if my emotions and heart had been frozen solid, but around her, I feel alive. I feeleverything.
Her fingers trace the scar she made, and my eyes fall closed, remembering the first time I saw her. Remembering the moment my life changed forever.
My eyes open, and I see those green eyes again, glimmering, as she watches me. As sheseesme.
My shadows puddle across the room, and for the first time in my long life I know bliss. True, endless bliss.
She takes a shaking breath, and my eyes lock on her chest. Her skin is prickled with need, and her silk dress is doing nothing to hide it.
She is perfect, without any ornaments, without any fabrics. I want to feel her skin against mine, I don’t want anything between us. My hands raise to rip her dress down the center the way I did before, and she makes an adorable sound of protest.
“Demon. I’m not going to have any dresses left if you keep destroying them.”
I’m impatient, desperate to see every inch of her. Desperate to tear her clothes to shreds. “I’ll buy you new ones. I’ll buy you a market. I’ll get you your own tailor.” I mean it. Because I plan on destroying far more of her dresses.
“Fine,” she finally says, and it’s all the encouragement I need. I rip her dress to shreds, and then her chest is in my mouth, and her groan goes straight to the throbbing core of me.
I bite her lightly, and she gasps, her desire like flames licking against my skin.
My fingers stroke down her stomach, slipping beneath her lace, and the moment they reach her center, she says my name.
I never liked my name until right now, hearing it leave her lips in a gasp.
I curse at the same time. I curse her name. “Isla.” She is the biggest threat to my life. The biggest threat to the world, simply because I know I wouldn’t hesitate to burn it down for her. Simply because I havedecidedto doom my realm for her. “You are truly going to kill me.”
