“Prince Charming,” he went on with a soft huff of laughter, “all polish in public—wicked in private.”
My eyes fluttered closed and my head fell back, breath catching, as he proved the point by pressing a slow, unhurried kiss just above my breasts.
“The misunderstood outcast,” he said softly, the words edged with something achingly sincere, “the world’s villain… but her devoted hero.”
His fingers curled into my hair, guiding my head down until our foreheads touched, holding me like he needed me there. For a moment there was nothing but his breath, his eyes, the impossible kindness threaded through all that power.
“And the mysterious god,” he finished, the words sliding over my skin like a promise, “ruthless to his enemies—but a man who bends the knee to her, and crowns her his queen.”
Then his mouth finally claimed mine.
The kiss was a slow, devastating thing, full of question and promise and a restraint that made my whole body ache. My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer, to pull something closer, anything that might fill the hollow that he was starting to fill.
When he pulled back, my lungs were burning and my legs felt unsteady.
“These men,” he murmured, the word drawn out and weighted with meaning, “yearnfor you. Wouldbleedfor you. And if ever the need arose…” His gaze flicked briefly to the demon, then came back to me, locking on with a look so full of promise it felt like a hand closing around my heart. “They would kill for you.”
The words hung between us, heavy as a vow.
“Gods above and below,” the demon drawled, unimpressed. “That may be the most romantic drivel I’ve ever heard.”
I tipped my head, eyeing him coolly. “Careful,” I said. “You’re starting to sound jealous.”
His mouth twitched before he could stop it. Then he smiled—slow, dangerous, entertained.
“Jealous?” he echoed. “No.”
One sharply tipped nail lifted to my cheek, grazing my skin before trailing slowly down the side of my throat. I felt every inch of it, gooseflesh rippling in its wake as my pulse jumped beneath his touch.
His gaze lingered on me, bright with interest. “When you bite back,” he added, clearly enjoying it. “I find that… extremely attractive.”
His eyes dipped briefly, then lifted again, knowing and wicked. “I think we’ve established you don’t like choosing,” he went on smoothly. “That idea makes your tight little pussy flutter, doesn’t it?”
He drew in a slow, indulgent breath, taking in the pure lust that was pouring off me.
“Do you want to be my cumslut?” he murmured.
The truth was, there was something intoxicating about standing between them: one darkness and hunger and sharp teeth, the other sunlight bound in mortal form, all quiet devotion and controlled strength. My pulse beat loud in my ears. The candles flickered like they were watching.
I nodded as I bit down on my lip.
“See, noddin’ isn’t gonna work with me, little sinner,” the demon said.
“I—” My voice came out hoarse.
“D’ye have to be so—” Lugh began, clearly ready to step in.
“She likes it rough,” the demon cut in smoothly, not even looking at him.
The demon’s eyes darkened. Lugh’s hand slid to my waist and tightened, a soft sound leaving him that might have been equal parts approval and surrender.
“And judgin’ by how wet she must be,” the demon said, voice low and pleased, “I’d say she enjoys being degraded. Let’s see just how wet…”
His hand tangled in my hair, gripping firmly enough to tip my head back—deceptively light, utterly unavoidable.
“Greedy little mortal,” he whispered, delighted. “Spread those thighs for your demon.”
My body obeyed before my pride could catch up. I parted instinctively, breath catching as his hand slipped beneath the hem of my slip. He growled low as he cupped me, one finger sliding over my obvious desire—because the truth was, I’d been wet for him since the moment he arrived.