Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

EINAR

H arper's parting words ran on a loop in my head as I slammed into my suite.

"And I hope I never see you again."

Fine. It was better that way. But I didn't want it. At long last, I had to admit what I already knew. I didn't want to keep my distance from Harper Ward. No, I wanted to be in her bed. Inside her body. I wanted her strawberry blond hair wrapped around my fist while I put her on her hands and knees and thrust hard into her delectable cunt.

My jaw ached, and saliva filled my mouth as my fangs tried to descend. Pain throbbed deep in my bones, and a fire flared to life in the center of my chest. Gritting my teeth, I adjusted my straining erection as I stalked to my bedroom.

The bedside table was stocked with flasks. I pulled one out, wrenched the cap off, and poured the contents down my throat. Adina's brew went to work, scalding my veins like acid. Its fire was agony, but it chased the other fire away, which was all that mattered. When the flask was empty, I gripped the edge of the desk, squeezed my eyes shut, and rode out the burn.

Immediately, a vision of Harper appeared behind my lids.

She'd looked fucking perfect on that bed. Sweetly rounded hips. Firm tits concealed by the thinnest layer of cotton. Toned legs that went on forever. And between them, a plump, pink pussy with a pouty clit glossed with arousal. Her mound was crowned with a tiny patch of short, neat curls the same strawberry blond as her hair.

And damn if my mouth hadn't watered with the need to taste her there. To lick a path from those damp curls to her glistening cunt. She'd been so responsive, so eager to obey. To hunt down her pleasure and take it.

But none of that responsiveness had been for me.

No, she'd fallen under the centaurs' spell, her body caught up in magic-fueled lust no human could resist. She'd made that much clear the second she opened her eyes and remembered I was in the room. Then she'd scrambled from the bed and wrapped the comforter around her like she couldn't stand having my eyes on her.

"I don't know what came over me. Whatever it was, I certainly didn't welcome it."

Her words had landed like a punch to the gut. Which was precisely the reality check I needed. Harper Ward could never be mine. She had every reason to hate me. What else did I expect after I threatened her father and took her from her home? I'd uprooted her entire life, using her as collateral in a dispute that had nothing to do with her. Then I put her in a cage and told myself it was acceptable because I gave her a few books and access to television. I deserved every ounce of disgust she threw my way. The problem was, her disgust only made me want her more. Every flash of defiance in her blue eyes heightened my lust. Made me want to add more bars to her cage so I could keep her a little longer. It would piss her off. Make her hate me even more. And the perverse, twisted thing inside me that craved her would like it.

Blood pounded in my dick, my erection pressing painfully against my jeans. Sweat broke out across my body. A sharp crack split the air, and the edge of the desk gave way under my hand.

I stumbled backward, my eyes flying open. Blood dripped from my hand to the thick carpet. The bedroom rippled around me, the colors going neon bright before sliding back to normal. A huge splinter protruded from my palm. Although, splinter was too mild a word. The damn thing was like a two-by-four. Grimacing, I yanked it from my skin. More blood splattered the carpet even as the wound healed quickly.

"And I hope I never see you again."

"Whatever it was, I certainly didn't welcome it."

Biting back a curse, I lurched to the bathroom. After a moment's hesitation, I stripped and turned on the shower. I'd splurged the last time I redecorated, installing a walk-in with slate floors angled to let the water drain without issue. The showerhead was more complicated than the space station, and it was worth every penny. I set the water pressure on high, braced a hand against the wall, and used my other hand to work my dick.

I couldn't have Harper, but I had to get her out of my system. Only a man made of stone could have remained unaffected by her sweet scent and perfect pussy. In my mind, her fingers plunged between her glossy folds before stroking upward and circling her swollen clit. She'd gasped as I issued commands, a flush spreading over her peaches-and-cream skin.

Water pounded my nape. My balls drew up, my sack tight and aching. I worked my dick faster, the sound of Harper's arousal loud in my memory. She'd been completely uninhibited, her head thrown back and her tight nipples poking toward the ceiling as she fucked herself under my gaze.

Steam curled around me. My breaths grew harsh and uneven, involuntary grunts echoing off the shower's tile. I squeezed my cock, imagining myself plunging into Harper's warm, wet pussy. So hot and sweet. Like dipping my dick in liquid sugar.

I stroked harder, my fist tight around my pulsing cock. A guttural growl built in my throat. My heart pounded, each beat spurring me toward release. In my mind, Harper spread her legs wider, her pink folds dripping with honey.

The growl broke free, and I came hard against the shower wall, waves of pleasure washing over me. As I rode out my orgasm, images of Harper continued to flash through my mind. Her sleek body, the sensual roll of her hips, her soft cries of pleasure.

Shuddering, I pressed my forehead to the tile as I caught my breath. Blinking open bleary eyes, I watched the water carry my release to the drain. The whirlpool blurred as a wave of dizziness swamped me. Straightening, I fumbled for the tap. The world tilted, and I staggered sideways, thrusting a hand out just in time to keep from crashing into the wall and going down.

Fire flared in the center of my chest. Knives stabbed at my bones, the pain burrowing deep. The tiles blurred, coalescing into a grayish blob even as black huddled at the edges of my vision.

No. Not now.

The bathroom fixtures were hazy, indistinct shapes as I lurched from the shower and stumbled wet and dripping to the bedroom. A fierce ache lodged in my jaw as I pawed through the desk drawers and pulled out more flasks. I gulped one down…then another.

Black smeared my vision. A high-pitched ringing filled my head. This time, Adina's brew couldn't catch the fire.

"Arlo!" I shouted. At least I thought I did. I couldn't be certain with the blackness hovering and the fire scorching my bones to the marrow. Somewhere in my pain-addled brain, I realized I should have called for Arlo the moment I entered the suite. The fire had sapped my reason. I couldn't let the blaze overtake me in the bedroom. The location wasn't…secure.

A lightning bolt of pain struck the base of my spine. I doubled over, an unmanly whimper bursting from me. I sucked in a breath as color bled from the world. "Arlo!"

"I'm here," he said, his voice breathless. The smoke and sulfur stench of brimstone wafted around me as he gripped my shoulders and pulled me upright. His face was a fuzzy beige moon, but his sharp intake of breath told me I looked every bit as bad as I felt.

"Harper…" I croaked.

"I'll check on her later," he said. "Right now, we need to get you drinking." He dropped a hand from my shoulder and reached into the air.

"Too late," I said, my speech garbled as my fangs punched from my gums. Hot blood ran down my chin as my face began to shift. "I drank three already."

Arlo was silent. Slowly, the blurry beige moon of his face turned red. Needle-sharp claws dug into my shoulder.

Good. He needed his true form if he hoped to handle me.

The blackness swelled. Fabric ripped as my spine lengthened, vertebrae snapping like popcorn. "Harper," I gasped, blood and sweat stinging my eyes.

A shadow fell over me, and Arlo's reply drifted from somewhere above my head. "I told you, Your Highness, I'll check on?—"

"No," I growled, consciousness slipping. Words flitted through my mind, fire licking at vowels and consonants my new form didn't know how to make. But this was important. I couldn't have the female who smelled of honeysuckle and drove me crazy with her questions. And I couldn't release her. Not yet. But maybe I could please her. Make her hate me a little less.

The bones in my neck slid against each other, snapping veins like they were power lines. In a few more seconds, speech would be impossible.

"Cook," I gasped. "Let…cook."

The scent of brimstone filled my lungs. "Cook?" Arlo repeated, his voice guttural.

I grunted my assent. "Kitchen. Harp—" The knives snatched my breath away, but I dragged in more oxygen and tried again. "Let cook."

"Yes, sir. I understand. Leave it to me."

For a moment, relief replaced the pain and fire. With the last of my voice, I gave a final command.

"Get the chains."