Chapter 11

Chapter11

Briar

Dinner passes in awkward silence. I realize I’m punishing Sol for telling me the truth, but that very truth is lodged in my throat. It doesn’t matter how delicious the food or wonderful the drink. Sol wants my baby. I haven’t even decided if I want children. It was a future I refused to share with Ethan, going so far as to get a birth control prescription and hide it from him to ensure I didn’t bring a child into this world and under his control.

The idea of going back on that determination, only to pass the child off, never to be seen again, is unthinkable.

Sol rises suddenly. “I’ll be right back. Please wait here.” He strides out into the darkness before I have a chance to respond.

Now’s the time to flee, to run back up to my bedroom and hide. Since I’ve arrived here, I’ve needled Sol and challenged him and infuriated him. He hasn’t said so much as a sharp word in response. Yes, he detailed out exactly what he wants to do to me, but I can’t pretend what he described isn’t at least partially welcome. It’d be hypocritical in the extreme to do so after I touched myself to the fantasy of it.

If a baby weren’t in the picture…

I take a hasty sip of my wine. I’ve nearly drained the glass, which should be worrisome, but I don’t feel drunk in the least. Buzzed, maybe, but I can’t blame the wine for that.

Sol appears on the other side of the courtyard, stepping out of the shadows as if he teleported in. His crest is half-raised, and it sinks when he catches sight of me. “You didn’t leave.”

I don’t think I could have gotten to the edge of the garden in that amount of time. But he’s right; I didn’t even try. “You asked me not to.”

He rounds the table and sinks to a knee next to me. With the height of my chair, the position means I can look directly into his dark eyes. They flicker strangely in the firelight of the candelabras. Sol holds up an arm. A thin chain hangs from his fist, a pendant swinging lightly with the motion. It’s a simple thing, an oval with a strange symbol burned into it. “Here.”

“Thank you,” I say automatically.

He hisses a little. “Don’t thank me until you know how it works.” He cups my hand and sets the pendant on my palm. “This was passed along by Ramanu when they visited. A few drops of your blood will activate the spell. You’ll need to reactivate it on the first day you start menstruating each month, but the pendant is good for decades.”

I stare at the symbol and then lift my gaze to his. “What does it do?”

“As long as you wear it, you won’t become pregnant.” He closes my hand around the pendant. “You’ve only been here a few days, Briar. I realize my honesty is unwelcome, but I won’t lie to you about what I want.” He hesitates. “However, I’m willing to be patient.”

A broken laugh rips from my mouth. “If you’re telling the truth about this pendant, then why would I ever take it off? I could spend the next seven years fucking you and then go home without ever going through with having that baby you want so badly.”

“Yes. You could.”

I wait, but he simply holds my gaze. There’s a challenge there, maybe, but I’m too dazed to think it through. “How can I trust that it works?”

“If you’d like it verified, you can ask Ramanu. They have no reason to lie to you.”

I almost protest that of course they do, because my having a baby is part of the bargain.

But it’s not.

The only thing the contract says it that Sol has the opportunity to seduce me, to attempt to accomplish his aim, but nowhere in either of them did it say I was required to get pregnant or give birth. Only that if I did, the child would remain in this realm.

Sol is telling the truth. I’m certain of it, even if I barely trust myself enough to believe him. I’m going to be here for seven years. Why wouldn’t he think he has plenty of time to convince me to do what he wants?

The question remains: What do I want?

“Okay,” I say slowly. “I believe you.”

“Keep it around your neck. As long as the cord remains intact, it will continue to work.”

I obediently slip it around my neck. The cord is long enough that the pendant hangs between my breasts. “Is there anything special that I need to do except bleed on it?”

“No.”

I lift my hand, suddenly feeling bold and a little wild. “Will you lend me a tooth?”

He goes perfectly still, and my heart trills in response. The urge to run from this obvious predator is almost overwhelming, but somehow my fight-or-flight responses are all tangled up with something rushed and heated. I will not give him what he wants, but maybe we can settle for a compromise. He wants me. He’s not being subtle about it.

And me? I want him, too.

I never considered myself a reckless person, but I don’t know what other word can describe me as Sol opens his mouth. His teeth are long, nearly half the length of my fingers and wickedly sharp. His tongue is forked. I have the strangest desire to stroke it, but I settle for reaching into his mouth an pressing the pad of my thumb to one of his teeth. Even knowing it’s coming, I can’t help sucking in a breath as the prick of pain.

I waste no time withdrawing and pressing my thumb to the pendant. It flares a bright green, and I feel an answering tug in my lower stomach. For all I know, I just made myself doubly fertile…but I don’t think so.

It still takes far more courage—or recklessness—to say, “What if we tried it? Sex, I mean.”

Sol’s crest flares, the only move he makes. “Are you saying that because you want sex, or because you’re running from something in your head?”

“Does it matter?”

“It should.” He pushes slowly to his feet and holds out a hand. “But I want you, Briar. I won’t pretend I don’t.”

I slide my hand into his and let out a little yip when he pulls me off the chair and into his arms. He’s so warm that I whimper a little. Sol sets me on the table and clasps the back of my head with one massive hand. I have the almost-hysterical thought that he could crush my skull like a melon, but he holds me gently, if firmly. “Are you sure?”

No. “Yes.”

Bless him, but he takes me at my word. “I’ll buy you another dress.”

I barely have time to process the words when he moves. He rips my dress open with a single swipe of his claws. The fabric parts and flutters down on either side of my body, baring me completely. I didn’t even have time to tense.

Sol stares down at me for a long moment and then meets my gaze. “If it’s too much, say stop.”

It’s not quite a reassurance that my saying stop will be enough to actually stop him, but I can barely think past the hot grip on the back of my head and the warm breeze that caresses my newly bared skin. “Okay,” I manage.

His forked tongue flicks out and caresses my bottom lip. I open for him. It doesn’t even occur to me not to. His tongue strokes mine. It’s not quite a kiss in the traditional sense of the word, but our jaws are hardly compatible for that kind of thing. Before I can decide it’s awkward, he tilts me back and licks his way down my throat in sensual little flicks that make me shiver.

Sol pauses at my breasts and nuzzles me, like a cat scent-marking their owner. Then his tongue is at my nipples, remarkably agile as he tugs and toys with me. Each pull sends an answering one lower in my body.

I…don’t know how to feel.

I honestly expected him to go for fucking me as quickly as possible. I want him badly enough that I don’t mind the inevitable pain that would come with such a hurry. At least then I’d know if the reality was even close to what my mind had dreamed up. “Sol, please!”

“Don’t rush me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.

A quiet snick sound, and his claws detract. I stare. “I didn’t know they could do that.”

Sol doesn’t respond, other than to sink to his knees before the table and push my thighs wide. I’m too shocked to do anything but quiver as he presses a single finger slowly into me, almost as if he’s testing me. The sight… I don’t know what to look at. It feels too personal to watch that large green finger penetrate my pussy. Looking at his face, at the intent way he watches me, is even worse.

I’m a coward.

I close my eyes.

The sensation only increases without the visuals to distract me. He’s not hurting me, but I can’t deny how full a single finger makes me feel. If he fucked me this quickly, he’d split me in half. My body pulses at the thought. I don’t know why that turns me on. It doesn’t make any sense. I hate pain. Why would I crave it like this?

Sol withdraws his finger, and my eyes fly open as I make an involuntary sound of protest. He catches my hips and jerks me half off the table, only his hold keeping me from tumbling to the ground.

And then he closes his mouth around me. His jaws are big enough that his teeth prick my lower stomach and my ass, tiny little flickers of pain that I barely feel because his tongue is at my entrance. He works it into me slowly. Unrelentingly.

I knew his tongue was large, of course—everything about him is large—but being penetrated by it is different. It feels as big as a cock, but it doesn’t move inside me like a cock. It’s agile and slick and— “Holy fucking shit.”

He makes a hissing sound that somehow translates as pleasure instead of anger. It vibrates through his jaws to my lower body, and I can’t help shivering in response. Then he goes after my G-spot again.

It has to be my G-spot. I’ve read novels. I looked up the existence of such a “magical” spot. I even went so far as to try to find it myself, but when one has limited time to masturbate, it’s easier to just go with what works.

It’s never felt like this.

Every bone in my body goes deliciously liquid. Even my thoughts stop swirling frantically. There’s nothing but that steady pulse inside me and his fingers digging into my hips as his teeth prick my skin. “More.”

Was that low demand from me? It hardly seems possible.

But I want more. I need it.

Within thinking, I reach down and grab his wrists. My fingers don’t meet on the other sides, but that’s fine. “Sol, more.”