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Iwanted.

It didn’t matter how much I told myself I shouldn’t.

Ineeded.

And, gods, I welcomed the feeling because it left no room for the dread, uncertainty, or the ugliness of the day.

“I should leave,” Nyktos ground out, his voice sounding like smoke and gravel.

I looked at him and realized I shouldn’t have done that either.

He shifted back from me, just enough that I saw the thick ridge of his cock straining against his leathers. I nearly moaned athisvisceral reaction tomylust—tome. Gods. I pressed my thighs together, but I was empty, and it was all too easy to recall the feel of him inside me, stretching me—

I moved without thinking, grasping Nyktos’s arm. The charge of energy, and the feel of his flesh under my hand sparked another rush of damp, hot desire.

“Sera,” he hissed.

Pulse pounding, I lifted my gaze to his. His eyes were quicksilver, heated and whirling with so much power, so muchneed. My nails pressed into his skin.

Stay.

I didn’t speak the word. I thought it. I prayed it, even though I knew I could bring an end to my torment. Give myself pleasure. But I wanted it. I wanted him despite the dangers of what that desire led to. In spite of what I’d seen with him and Veses and still didn’t understand.

Stark lust carved into his features, hollowing his cheeks as he stared at me. “You know what will happen if I don’t leave,” he growled. Warned. “No matter how much you hate me now, you will hate yourself more later.”

“I don’t hate you,” I whispered.

“My blood is making you think you don’t.”

He was wrong. I wished he was right. Everything would be so much easier if I did, but I didn’t. “I think I proved earlier today that I don’t hate you.”

His arm trembled in my grip. “You should.”

“I should.” I ran my tongue across my teeth. “You could leave if you wanted to.”

His eyes darted to mine. “I know.”

“But you haven’t.”

Tension bracketed his mouth as his gaze dropped to my chest. The tips of my breasts were clearly visible beneath the nightgown. A predatory gleam pinched his lips and filled his eyes as he watched me shrug off the robe.

“Sera,” he rasped, his lips parting and gaze sweeping down the translucent nightgown to the throbbing space between my thighs. “I don’t know if I love these things you swear are gowns or fucking hate them.”

My entire chest rose and fell sharply as our gazes locked. A second passed. Another.

“But there are a hundred reasons why one of us needs to leave,” he said, his breath matching mine. “And only one reason neither of us is.”

“Want.”

He gave me a curt shake of his head. “Need.”

Then I was in his arms.

I didn’t know who moved. Wasn’t sure if it was me who climbed into his embrace, him who’d grasped my arms, or if we’d both moved at once.

But it didn’t matter.

His mouth was on mine, his kiss wild and desperate. Starved. I could feel his cool flesh beneath his torn tunic, soothing my overly sensitive skin and then igniting another maddening rush of desire. Both of our hands went to his pants. My fingers curled around his thickness, stroking him through the soft cloth. He tore at the buttons, and raw lust scorched the breath I took as he freed himself.


Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Flesh and Fire Fantasy