I had refused to accept it. Not until I’d walked into that grand hall and seen him and scented him and then…then there had been no turning back. I’d known then I was his.
“You…” The piece of croissant slips from my fingers and falls to the plate. “How long have you known?” I pick up the piece and pop it back into my mouth. I can’t taste it, yet I force myself to bite into it, chew it, then swallow.
Zeus tilts his head and surveys me with that steady gaze.
“Your second, he told you…” I don’t need to look at him to sense him nod his confirmation.
I reach for the coffee cup and drain it. And, damn it, I should be raging, or be afraid or throw a tantrum, or something. Yet all I feel is a strange calm.
I’d known it would come to this, had known inside, that from the time I’d walked into his stronghold, this confrontation was coming. Or perhaps it I’d lost every shred of feeling, of my identity, when I had gone into heat, had crawled into that bed with him and asked him to take me.
When my body had led the way forward and the rest of me had no choice but to follow.
When everything I’d learned about myself, my self-respect, my pride…all of it had been swept aside in that carnal need to mate. Because ultimately that’s what I am deep inside, a female whose omega instinct will always be in the lead.
“Don’t you have anything else to say for it?” His voice is low, his gaze steady. He hasn’t eaten anything on his plate so far either.
And I don’t know why that simple detail sticks in my head. Either he’s more upset than he’s letting on… Or, nope, can’t be that. He had a need, he sensed me, he wanted me, he took me. There’s nothing more to it than that. He can’t possibly be upset about the fact that my identity was a surprise to him.
“You don’t seem surprised?” I want to be as casual as him and reach for the rest of the croissant, but my stomach suddenly feels heavy, my guts lurching. I lean back and rub my forearms.
“Should I be?” He places his elbows on the table.
“Shouldn’t you?” I raise my eyes and meet his gaze.
His cheekbones stand out in relief. Some of the color has faded from his face. It only makes his features look more austere, more brooding. He seems strong and powerful and formidable. Waves of tension roll off him. I sense a pulse of heat and something else… A spark of anger rolls down the mating bond; it tugs at my nerve endings. I wriggle around in my chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. I shouldn’t feel so guilty, I shouldn’t. I am not the one at fault. I am only trying to do right by my clan, aren’t I? Then why does his very presence make me feel like I tried to pull a fast one on him? That I lied to him?
“I did not...” Only when I hear the words aloud do I realize I have spoken.
He angles his head. His eyes darken into flints of ice. So cold. So terrifying.
He can be far more formidable than he’s alluded to.
He’d taken me against my will and yet he’d also cared for me. He’d made sure to rut me through the cycle, had never hit me or abused me. Why am I making excuses for this monster? It still doesn’t negate the fact that he’d killed some of his own men, taken me from the court to his room, and he’s kept me here since.
“You were saying?” His fingers drum next to his plate. Fingers with clean-cut nails, long, lean fingers that have been inside me, that have known exactly which part of me to press against, which part to arouse and bring to climax.
My belly cramps, and I clench my thighs tighter. No, no… I can’t be turned on by just thinking of everything he’s done to me. And yet there is no mistaking the moisture that dampens between my thighs, that makes the shirttails stick to my underside.
He stiffens; his big shoulders bunch. His nostrils flare. The beast knows that I am turned on.
“It seems even though you are past your heat cycle your body still wants me.”
“I don’t.”
His lips curve up in a smirk. “The sweet musk of your arousal says otherwise.”
Hearing the words only turns me on further. A moan ripples up my throat, and I bite down on my lower lip to stifle it. “You shouldn’t say such things aloud,” I mumble, and heat flushes my cheeks.
His gaze widens. He watches me from under hooded eyelashes.
A spurt of heat tugs at my lower belly and I look away. I can’t meet his eyes, not without giving away how much I am feeling right now. And it’s lust, only lust.
The cord trembles against my rib cage, unfurling, sending a pulse of such need shooting down to my core. "Ah hell!” I huff out a breath.
There’s a low chuckle from him.
Bet if I look up I'll see a smirk tugging at his lips. The one that draws attention to his mouth, that makes me want to rake my fingers through his hair and drag his face down to nestle between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together. “It can’t go on like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like every time we have a conversation or if we are in the same space, there is this need to…to…”
“Fuck?” His voice is rough.
Sweat beads my palms. My toes curl. I squeeze my eyes shut, and try to block the sight of him from my head. That only heightens my other senses. My skin tightens. The hair on my forearms rise.
I sense his big body shift. Feel the heat roll off him and know he's crouched down in front of me. His legs brush mine and I try to slide back in my seat, but he only shifts his bulk in synchrony with me.
“Oh, what the hell are you playing at?” My eyelids fly open. Mistake. He's so close now, too close. He's within touching distance. The skin around his eyes tightens. A pulse tics at his temples. That complex woodsy scent of his bleeds into the air. Images of his hands on me, his lips on my mouth, of how hard he felt inside me. How good. How right. All of it crashes over me.
The force of his personality is a living breathing thing in the room. It pushes down on my chest, squeezing my rib cage. My shoulders hunch. “Don’t.” My voice breaks. That familiar ball of emotion is heavy in my throat. “Not like this.” I ball my fingers into fists. My lips tremble.
His gaze falls to my mouth. His breath grows rougher.
He leans in close and the heat from his body slams into me. Dense clouds of warmth swirl over me, and sweat breaks out on my brow. Then, as I think that he’s going to pull me up—or worse…or better still, drag me to the floor, push aside my shirt, and take me right there—he moves.
28
Zeus
I am so close to her that I can see the little creases around her eyes. I can see the pores on her skin, the freckles on her nose, the creamy expanse of her throat; I want to lean in and touch to remind myself she is as soft as I remember her to be. Then her throat moves as she swallows. Nervousness and fear come off her in waves.
And that stops me.
When I had dragged her here and fucked her… It wasn’t completely against her will, for she had all but begged me to take her, but she was also in the high of her heat cycle then, had not been in her right mind, and her body had needed me. But now?
Her gaze is clear even as those green eyes burn with desire. Her body trembles. The sugary scent of her arousal fills the air. She presses her bare toes into the floor. Every part of her is eager for me, and yet she holds back.