Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I’ve never been so close to a male before—especially not such a big one. I try to stop the convulsive shiver that runs through me with no success. His big body radiates heat against my skin as though he’s running a fever, but I think this is just his normal temperature. Maybe because the dragon inside him is full of fire.
“Mmm, you smell like springtime, little Princess,” he rumbles, and I feel his lips, surprisingly soft, against my neck.
And then he licks me—his hot tongue tracing the delicate veins in my throat, sending a rush of forbidden sensation through my whole body. Chill-bumps break out all up and down my arms and my nipples are suddenly tight and aching.
What’s wrong with me? I should hate this! And I do—or part of me does. But another part wants more.
My mind is racing and my heart is pounding. I’ve never had a man touch me or lick me like this. In Court, a polite touch of one gloved hand to another is the extent of our intimacy.
His mouth is so hot on my vulnerable flesh! I had no idea the side of my neck was so sensitive—having him touch me there feels almost as though he was touching another, more forbidden area. I press my thighs together where the secret part of me is enflamed, wishing I wasn’t feeling the way I’m feeling.
“Oh!” I gasp, unable to be quiet as he licks me again. “What…how…how long is this going to take?”
“It will take as long as it takes,” he growls softly in my ear. “But unfortunately, I can’t drink from your neck either.”
“You…you can’t?” My voice comes out breathless.
“No, I can’t.” He pulls back and I see that his eyes are burning red like coals again. “Such a pretty little Princess,” he rumbles and strokes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I’m afraid I need to drink from your thigh.”
“My what?” I can feel my eyes going wide with disbelief as I look up at him.
“Your thigh,” he growls and I hear impatience in his voice and also hunger—or is it thirst?
“Why from there? That’s completely unacceptable!” I protest. “I am a proper young lady who—”
“Who’s going to be dragged back to the castle in disgrace if I don’t get some blood so I can Shift,” he says flatly. “Look, sweetheart—taking blood from your thigh is as much for your benefit as it is for mine. Look at my fangs…”
He leans closer and opens his mouth again, showing me the long, sharp, dagger-like fangs.
“I…I don’t understand,” I say faintly.
“Your wrist and neck are too delicate,” he explains. “If I try to bite you in either of those places, I’ll do serious damage. I might even fucking kill you—you’re too tiny and fragile for me to bite you anywhere except your thigh.”
No one’s ever accused me of being “tiny” or “delicate” before—I’m considered much too big and tall for a woman by the Nobles of the Court. It’s one reason I have no suitors—my bookish ways being the other.
But that isn’t my main focus. I bite my lower lip as I eye his fangs again. They look long enough to pierce right through my wrist and come out the other side. And I have to admit they could do serious damage to my neck too. But my thigh?
“I…I don’t…” I begin, unsure of what to say. “I’ve never let a man—”
“Of course you haven’t—you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
As he speaks, he’s already kneeling before me and pushing me against a tree. The rough bark scratches me through my cloak and gown.
“That’s a…a very impertinent question!” I gasp.
“Not nearly as impertinent as this.”
And with that, he raises my skirts, baring my legs to the cold night air as he presses his face between my thighs.
9
IRENA
“Wait! Stop!” I exclaim, but it’s too late—he’s already nuzzling my inner thigh. I try to press my legs together, but that doesn’t do any good. He only presses harder and now I can feel his scorching hot breath against my forbidden area. The delicate, lacy pair of panties I put on when I dressed for dinner seem woefully inadequate protection against such a large, determined male.
He lifts his head for a moment, holding my skirts aside so he can meet my gaze and I see that his eyes are glowing more brightly than ever.
“Part your legs for me, Princess,” he growls. “I need access to your inner thigh.”
“I…but I never…never gave you permission,” I protest, my breath coming out in pants.
“Yes you did—you agreed to give me your blood when we made this deal,” he points out. “Besides, the ring and collar demand it.”
Well, I can’t deny that—it was written on the scrap of manuscript. But still, it feels terribly improper to part my legs for him. I try to make myself, but I feel frozen in place.