His dark eyes flay me open until I feel more exposed than I did when he cut my bra away and had his fingers inside me.
“No, little prey,” he laughs darkly. “That was only the beginning.”
Without another word he turns and melts into the night, leaving me shaking, mortified, and desperately trying to hold onto my sanity.
6
ACHILLES
Ever since I can remember,I’ve been taught to be bold.
Not reckless. Not brazen. Not audacious.
Bold…which, as Dad likes to remind me, is “strength with conviction behind it”.
Strengthwithoutthe conviction to follow through is mere impulsiveness. And that's not a trait a king has any use for.
And I will be a king.
Aruler.
Fearless, and just, and unflinching in his duty.
Bold.
I realize that all of that can potentially come across as nauseatingly pompous. But it’s what I’ve been repeating in my head since I somehow pulled myself away from her last night on the footpath back to Morvaine Manor, at the edge of the woods.
Truth be told, cringe as it may be, it’s a mantra I repeat frequently, to try to remind myself to curb those urges that I know have no place in my world.
Recklessness.
Impulsiveness.
Giving in to baser desires.
The irony of telling myself not to be “reckless, impulsive, and giving in to baser desires” while I was licking the sweet taste of Yelena’s pussy off the back of my knife is not lost on me.
But hey… It’s the thought that counts.
The trouble is, a full twenty-four hours later, my thoughts are still entirely focused on the breathy sounds she made and the way she tasted. I can’t get either one out of my head.
It’s got me unable to focus on anything else—not the studying I need to get in before my economics quiz tomorrow. Not the punishing two-hour workout I attempted earlier, hoping the screams of my muscles would drown out the roar of my libido.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
At first, when I went back into that bedroom after she’d run off, and rifled through the bookcase where she’d been meddling, the emotion I felt was “curiosity”.
I mean, I’m not curious why a girlin generalwould leave panties for my cousin and best friend. He’s a six-foot-four wall of muscle, he’s rich and powerful, and he has the same wildly unfair genetics that I do.
What can I say: Drakos plus Kildare equals winning combination.
I can’t imagine girlshaven’tleft their panties for my cousin numerous times before. But Yelena De Luca isnotthe sort of girl who does that, as anyone could tell you after five seconds of observing her.
But then, confusion led to fury. I can tell myself all day that Yelena isn’t the type of girl to do that. But the fact remains that shedid.
And it pissed me the fuck off.
Not, however, as much as what she blurted out when I cornered her about it.