Chapter 19

Rhi

I stareat his bare chest, muscular, solid, covered in scribbled tattoos and unhealed scars. It's chaotic, mesmerizing, totally suited to him. He reminds me of the back of my notebook, doodles scrawled all over the pages.

Shifting to the edge of the scratchy mattress, I let my fingers trail down from his face to his chest. Mostly the scribbles are dates and places and I don't want to think too hard about what those must mean, but in among them there are pictures. A tiny moth by his right hip, its translucent wings fragile on his olive skin. On his right side, there's a cobweb as intricately weaved as the real thing, a spider lurking in its center ready to strike. And right in the middle of his chest, between his pectoral muscles, to the right of his thumping heart, is a crow, mid flight, its black eyes locked straight ahead.

I touch them all, trace the dark lines of the inks, feel the warmth of his skin and the solid strength of his muscles. Muscles that twitch with my touch.

My own heart beats a little faster, my bond flutters in my stomach and I can't deny the way my skin heats.

He hums with satisfaction and I press my whole palm against him, my touch more firm, sweeping my hands over the ridges of his muscles and the grooves of his scars, over his shoulders and up into his dark hair.

The hum morphs to a growl, his eyes turning sinister. My heart beat leaps to my throat. He's so dangerous and yet vulnerable too. Wild, yet starting to be tamed. I think he'd let me do anything to him and to test that theory I scrape my hands down his chest, leaving red marks in their wake.

"Fuuuuucccckkkk," he growls and then he's captured my hands again, leading them down the grooves of his tightly packed abdomens, lower to the waistband of his jeans. Here he lets go, and with his gaze locked on mine, undoes the buckles of his belt and the buttons on his fly.

My heart beats frantically now, my bond needy and incessant. I'm not sure if I could pull away even if I wanted to. Even though I know I should.

He takes my hand again and leads it down inside his pants, coiling my fingers around his cock, hot and stiff and jerking against my palm.

"Little rabbit," he says, his voice like poison in my ear, smooth and deadly. "You know how to touch me here, right?"

"Y-y-yes," I say and I stroke my fist along the thick length of him, twisting when I come to the head. He shuffles his jeans and his boxers down his hips, freeing himself and gazing down at where I'm holding him.

"Fuck, that looks good, little rabbit. My cock in your paw."

I rub my fist back down to his base and then along to the head again.

He sighs and throws back his head, exposing his throat to me, showing just how much he trusts me.

"You can go harder," he murmurs. "No need to be so fucking gentle."

I shuffle right to the edge of the bed and hold his cock more firmly in my hand, an ache beginning to pulse between my legs.

His eyes flick to look at me, and without warning, he grabs a hold of me and pulls me down onto the floor with him.

I increase the rhythm of my hand, closing my eyes and feeling him pulse beneath my fingers. And then I feel his teeth at my throat.

Have I been a fool? Is this where I finally meet my end? With his cock in my hand and his teeth in my throat, ripping it out?

But he does no such thing. He rakes his teeth down the column of my neck, firm enough to smart, his nose pressed against my skin, trailing after, inhaling my scent, and then he's licking his wet tongue up the scrape he's made, soothing it better, murmuring nonsense words I don't understand.

I sigh, the sensation making my bond giddy and my panties wet. My grip loosens, my rhythm stutters. He growls his displeasure, nipping the point where my neck meets his shoulder. A warning.

I swallow, and continue, continue until I feel his cock jerk once, twice in my hand and then he's spilling his seed all over my fingers, thick white ropes of it. The salty masculine smell of it punching the air.

"Fuck, little rabbit, fuck," he says, leaning over me, caging me with his body, staring down into my face with so much heat, I start to pant. I wait, too frightened to scuttle away, too hot to want to. What the hell will he do next? And, as if reading my mind, he says, "Going to touch you back now."

I close my eyes. This is so wrong, so twisted and sick. I shouldn't want his hands anywhere near me. But it's what fate wants. And she must want it for a reason, right? She must have bound us together for a purpose. I can't believe it's random – the man sent to kill me, the man destined to be my mate.

And so I trust in her again, letting him push me back against the blanket and the hard floor. Let him undo the fly of my jeans, let him shimmy them all the way down my legs so I'm lying there in just my top and my panties. There's still time to stop this. Still time to tell him no. But again, I forget all the nagging doubts, all the reasons this is suicide, and focus in on that feeling thrumming deep in my gut, purring with excitement as he licks his tongue all the way up the inside of my leg until his nose is nuzzling right into my pussy lips.

"You're going to be a good little rabbit for me now, aren't you? You're going to let me touch you. You're not going to make a fuss. You're going to let me hear you scream."

Fear brushes over my skin, but I'm so wet now, there's no denying how much I want him to touch me, how much I want to scream for him.

He peers up at me from between my thighs, his pretty mismatched eyes glinting in the pale light. Then he lifts his hand to my mouth, tracing his fingers under my chin and up to my mouth, touching my lips before thrusting his fingers inside my mouth.

"Suck," he commands and I do as he says.

His eyes twinkle with that excitement, then he removes his fingers and yanks away my panties, staring down at me all bare and wet for him.

"Never seen anything so pretty," he murmurs. Then he's thrusting those same fingers deep inside my pussy. I guess I'm pretty turned on, swollen and sensitive, because it feels divine, my hips rising and my elbows giving way beneath me. His gaze sweeps up from my pussy to my face and remains locked there as he massages his fingers inside me. "Tell me what you like," he says, those eyes flicking over my face. Something I'm understanding means he's struggling to read me, unable to understand me.

"Like that," I pant. "Like that."

"You want it hard?" he says, rubbing me with force. "Or soft?" He decreases the pressure.

"Both. All of it."

He nods, his expression serious. He's taking notes.

"And this," he asks. "This is the spot?"

He hits the point inside me that has me crying out, my hips lifting again and my hands scrabbling in the blanket. "Uh huh." I manage to blurt out.

"Hmmm," he says as my pussy flutters around his fingers. "What else do you want, little rabbit? What else do you need?" His eyes are burning hot and all the shame I should be feeling is swept away in my undeniable desire for him.

"Here," I say, parting my pussy lips and showing him with my hand where my clit lies. "I need you to touch me here too."

He examines the place. "Show me how. Show me how you want me to touch you."

I swallow and then ring my clit with my finger as he massages deep inside me. The combination of the two actions has me soaring upwards.

He studies the movements of my finger with an intensity I find mesmerizing. I can't drag my gaze away from his face.

Moans start to fly from my mouth, my body writhing on the blanket. I can feel the orgasm inside me building and building.

"I'm going to come," I tell him.

"Fuck, yes, as loud as you can, little rabbit. I want to hear you scream so fucking badly."

He pushes my hand to one side and presses his thumb to my clit. I'm so overly sensitive he shoots a bolt of electricity straight through my body and I cry out.

He growls, his face wild with excitement now. He flicks me again with his thumb and I scream a second time, my hips rising right off the floor.

"Little rabbit!" he moans. And then he's flicking me hard and fast, his finger moving inside me too, and I lose all control, all reason. The orgasm building inside me is powerful and all-consuming and when it comes, I think for a minute he's shot us through time and space again, because I forget where I am, who I am, why I'm here. For a brief moment, the world disappears and all I am is feeling, swimming through my body, lifting me up and spinning me around. I'm lost like that, drowning in clouds of bliss, and then I float back down to earth, panting as I flutter open my eyes and find him looking straight into them.

"It felt good?" he asks me.

I giggle as I catch my breath. "Yes, just a bit."

He frowns. "Only a bit!"

I giggle again and rest my hand on his cheek. "It's just a way … it was good, really, really good." I sigh, ecstasy still humming in every one of my nerves.

"Then I'm going to do it again." He rings my sensitive clit with his thumb and I know it isn't going to take a lot to have me screaming again. But once was enough, right? I should put a stop to it now. I succumbed to this. Now I should regain my senses and push his hands away.

I'm weak and foolish though. His touch feels too, too good. And I'm not sure I ever want him to stop touching me even though I have no idea where this will lead.

Could I seriously accept him as my mate? Would the others accept him? I can't see it somehow. Azlan would kill him before I'd even got a chance to explain.

But what will happen when I tell him this isn't permanent? That this doesn't mean we're going to be together?

These are the serious questions I should be asking myself. Instead, I'm swept away again and then I'm falling asleep beside him on the floor, the blanket tangled up around us.