Текст книги "Alien On Fire"

Автор книги: January Bell

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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LEIGH

I’m so fucking angry I’m seeing stars. I’m barely aware of the fact I’ve been left alone in some kind of massive bathing room, with oils and soaps of all kinds and torches lining the walls. The whole place has a weird primitive vibe, especially for a civilization that’s tried to take over most of the charted universe.

I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. I did my best to ignore the Roth who brought me here, and even though they didn’t touch me, seemed afraid to touch me—which, considering what Nydo’s capable of, I don’t blame them—I feel sick.

I feel like I’m trapped all over again, in a prison that I’ve willingly walked into.

My stomach’s in knots. I rub my hand over it. Something is very, very, wrong, and I’m not smart enough to even know what.

I am a fool. A fool.

I should have known Nydo had something up his sleeve.

I’m so angry.

Angry… and hurt.

Tears well in my eyes, and I throw my stupid black gown off, the stupid black circlet landing next to it. I jump in the huge pool of water just to give myself something to do.

I’m so, so fucking mad and hurt.

“You really fucked up, didn’t you, Leigh Miller,” I mutter to myself.

“Welcome to Roth,” a smooth female voice calls. The words echo around the chamber, freaky and unnatural.

I screech, ducking underwater.

A laugh ripples across my awareness, and I scramble to the surface, sputtering, doing my best not to drown myself while freaking out. At least I’m not crying anymore, I guess. The thought guts me though, a knife wound to the heart.

I swim for the edge of the massive pool and hold on to the stone edge, all too aware of my own nakedness.

“Who’s there?” I ask, my voice small and strange in the vastness of the temple pool.

“Am I here, then?” the voice asks, amused.

The hair pricks up on the back of my neck. I gulp.

“I am here, and I am there, and I am everywhere all at once.” The voice is deeper now, more ominous, layered. Otherworldly.

Real fear cuts through me.

“What do you want?” I ask, paddling out to the center of the pool again. Holding on to the ledge doesn’t seem to be the wisest choice, if it’s an attacker. Fuck. Although, if I’m swimming in the middle of the pool, they’ll shoot me.

I’m not thrilled with my situation; I don’t want to die.

“What do I want?” The voice pauses, the air heavy and muggy. “I want to see the future of my species. I want to give you my blessing, and my warning.”

The air is oppressive, and I gasp for breath, a headache blooming between my eyes.

What the fuck is going on?

“You bathe in my sacred pool,” the voice whispers, right in my ear, and it’s all I can do to stay afloat and not suck in a mouthful of water out of sheer, sudden terror. “I can see all of you, laid bare before me, all your wants, your needs, your past, your present, and your future.”

I shiver again, despite the heat in the room.

“And I find you worthy,” the voice says.

I blink. I swear, I feel a caress on my brow, along my cheekbone and across to my jaw. The temperature in the temple immediately returns to normal, the humidity dissipating as quickly as it came on. The pool steams slightly, and I glance around, my eyes wide.

“The fuck?” I say out loud.

I swim for the steps as fast as I can, only too ready to get the hell out of this room.

My clothes are still in a heap on the floor, and I clutch them to me as I scuttle away.

Mental note: never bathe in a Roth temple again.

The only exit is directly opposite the now barred doors I came through, and I do my best not to slip on the stone floors as I rush to the arched opening.

Who the hell was talking to me? There’s no one here. There are certainly no Roth women around, hanging out and telling me I’m worthy.

I’d almost think it was a trick of some kind, that they’d piped in the voice and the steam or something… if I hadn’t felt the touch on my face.

I search my brain for any memories of what Nydo told me of the Roth gods, my wet feet slapping the floor, my hair hanging around my face in wet tendrils.

He never mentioned a goddess, as far as I can remember, but I know he said his mother thought his people were being punished. I remember that because I thought it was silly and superstitious. I mean, sure, I celebrate Christmas and all, but it’s not like I’m religious.

Then again I never had a god—goddess—speak to me and touch my face.

My mind reels. I don’t want to believe it. It’s just too weird.

Besides, what I should be thinking about, worried about, isn’t some divine intervention, but the fact that Nydo has obviously been less than truthful with me. He didn’t tell me we’d be separated; he didn’t tell me anything about this at all.

I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. I didn’t think I would mind being away from him. It’s more than minding, though. I want him here, by my side, talking me through this. Talking me through whatever the hell that was in that bath… room.

I miss him.

Nydo, for all his egocentric asshole behavior… still makes me feel safe. I must be the worst kind of stupid for wanting him right now.

I stare around the new chamber, so huge that the fluted columns disappear into darkness the further I follow them up, and up, and up.

More torches light up the columns, and it’s just so weird that the Roth aesthetic is so damn… medieval, considering their tech rivals the Suevans’, and it way outstrips Earth. But this is a temple, and maybe everything here is old and weird and created according to some esoteric, archaic tradition.

That wouldn’t be too far off from human culture, at least.

I shake my head, trying to focus, my heart beating too fast, my adrenaline pumping.

A Roth male I don’t recognize materializes out of the shadows, his eyes dark as he surveys me.

I clutch my clothes tighter, all too aware of my nudity… and the fact I’m dripping water everywhere.

“I am here to help you prepare for your mating ceremony, human,” he intones.

“Great,” I say, my voice completely lacking enthusiasm. At least I don’t sound scared shitless, which would be an accurate reflection of how I’m feeling.

“This way, human,” he says, and he all but disappears between the dark pillars. God, I’m tired of being called human in such a derogatory tone. I squint after him, putting one hand in front of myself to try and avoid running face-first into something.

Awesome. This just gets more and more fucked up.

“Mind lighting some more torches or something? Human, remember? I can’t see in the dark.” I try to keep my voice light. I don’t want to piss him off.

All by myself, don’t wanna be with a Roth stranger… I hum quietly, and it at least makes me feel a little less scared.

I’ve only taken four or five baby steps when light flares all around me, dazzlingly bright. My hand flies to my forehead as I attempt to shield my poor pupils against the sudden onslaught.

“Here,” the Roth calls out, and still I wait, on edge and starting to get completely freaked out by all this weirdness.

Okay, less starting and more just continuing to freak out.

My eyes slowly adjust, the warmth from the blazing fires lining the walls oppressive but welcome after walking around wet in the cold temple.

“I must prepare your body for the ceremony.” He holds up a jar of gold… cream? Something oily and shimmery, at least.

“You’re going to do what now?” I ask, glaring at him.

“Prepare your body for the ceremony.”

“You aren’t touching me,” I say tartly. “I can do whatever… preparation is needed myself.”

“It is not the way of the Ro—”

“I’m human, remember?” I ask acidly, not about to let some weird Roth slather gold oil all over me. “I can do this my way, at least.”

He tilts his head, studying me. “I am here to serve.”

Seconds tick by, and I hold my ground, staring right back at the fucker, refusing to back down.

“You’re too big to be a handmaiden,” I finally tell him. For some reason, the thought makes me want to laugh.

“As you wish,” he finally demurs, holding out the jar.

My hand closes around it, and it’s warm to the touch. I should probably ask him what to do with it, but I’m not feeling like admitting I don’t have a clue.

So we have another stare off.

“You just put it on yourself. All over.”

“I know,” I say tartly. “Obviously. I want some privacy, though, and you’re just staring at me. You and the lady in the baths, both total pervs.” I mutter the last part under my breath as he turns around.

“Lady in the baths? There was no one in the baths.” There’s a sharp intake of breath, and then he turns back to me, eyes raking over my face.

“Hey, HEY,” I snap my fingers at him, “privacy, remember?”

I mentally congratulate myself for doing a really good job pretending like I’m in control of this situation. I uncork the little bottle and drop my clothes, pouring the shimmering liquid all over my body. It’s warm and glittery, and it leaves a gold sheen across my skin.

It’s kind of pretty, but I don’t love that it’s all I’m wearing.

Not awesome.

“That would explain the mark on your face,” my peeping-Tom Roth says, his back to me.

“If you’re talking about my freckles, I’m gonna lose it.” I grit my teeth.

“No, the mark of the goddess.”

“What?” I touch my face, feeling slightly frantic. The memory of the touch across my face, the distinct impression of a caress, rocks back through me.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he says.

I stare after him, still rubbing the gold oil all over myself, just to give my hands something to do.

The Roth walks away, only to hold up a long garment, his back still to me.

“This is your ceremonial dress,” he says. “Am I allowed to bring it to you?” There’s a slight edge to the words, as if he thinks I’m being silly.

Ugh. Maybe I am being ridiculous.

“Fine, yes.” I sound every bit as irritable and out of sorts as I am.

The Roth turns back around, his eyes surprisingly, politely averted. I slap my hands over my important bits anyway, glaring at him. As he draws closer, my gaze falls to the gorgeous gown in his hands. It’s not black.

I’ve only worn black since Nydo bought me an entire new wardrobe.

This is deep red-gold, burnished threads glittering in the firelight. It’s sheer, like most of the Roth clothes are, but it’s so, so pretty.

“Arms up,” the Roth handmaiden-man instructs in a bored voice.

I chance a narrow-eyed glance up at him, trying to determine if he’s sneaking a peek or what. But no, he honestly looks bored and annoyed.

“When in Roth, man servant,” I say, raising my arms, preparing to be dressed like a doll. At least I didn’t let him rub me down with gold oil. That would be going a bit too far.

“I am not a man. I am Roth.” He steps closer, guiding my hands through the arms of the gown, when he suddenly freezes.

“Get away from her,” a familiar voice snarls.

The gown crumples over my face, blocking my view. I grunt, annoyed at the fact I’m basically now trapped in the pretty dress.

God. Is this going to be my life now? Trapped in pretty dresses and oiled up so I can just look good on Nydo’s arm?

I grit my teeth.

It won’t be. This won’t be my life.

No matter what the, er, voice said moments ago, that I’m worthy… I am not staying here. I’m going home. I don’t want to be queen. I want to be left out of Nydo’s grand plans and scheming and manipulations, no matter how good he makes me feel.

No matter how close we’ve grown.

“I am trying to assist her in dressing for the ceremony, my king.”

“Touch her again and I will incinerate you. Slowly,” Nydo grates.

“That’s a little much,” I say, breathless and still struggling to figure out how the damn thing goes on. “Besides, I need help getting,” I wriggle, “this,” the fabric tugs at my wet hair, “thing on.”

Nydo’s fingers skate over my hands, still outstretched, and then I exhale in relief as the fabric settles around my shoulders, skimming across my hips and down my legs.

“May I help her put it on properly?”

The poor Roth hand-not-maiden quirks an eyebrow at a spot on the floor where he stares.

“If you want to lose your fingers,” Nydo growls. “I would make an example of anyone who touches her.”

“Nydo, stop. He hasn’t touched me like that at all. Can you chill out?”

“You are covered in ceremonial oil,” Nydo says, gaze stuttering over my body, and my heart flutters slightly to hear how possessive he is. “Did he… rub it into you?”

I shouldn’t like the way he looks ready to murder the Roth hand-not-maiden. Murder is a total relationship red flag. But… I do like it. Everything in me is tight and happy at his anger, at his concern for my wellbeing.

Maybe red is my favorite color.

“I did not touch her, my king,” the Roth says, falling to his knees. “She refused to let me.”

“So you would have, if she had allowed it,” Nydo says, his eyes flashing orange.

“He didn’t touch me,” I repeat. “Chill out.”

Both Roth males stare at me. I sigh, tugging the fabric into place. “It means calm down. Sheesh. We’ve been over this. Stop getting angry. No one touched me, except for the, er, no one touched me.”

Nydo rounds on me, his hands flying to my shoulders, looking down on me.

“Except who?” His gaze finds my cheek, and my mouth goes dry.

The orange flame of his eyes glows brighter, heat emanating from him. Understanding flashes through me. No wonder they wear next to nothing. They keep this place as hot as a freaking volcano, and Nydo puts off heat like my own personal, living radiator.

My own. My brain trips over the phrase, and I blink, like my eyelids are reset buttons.

Nydo’s still staring at me, his mouth open, no sound coming out.

“She wears the sign of the old gods,” the hand-not-maiden says.

“I do?” I say, gingerly touching my cheekbone. “What does that mean? She said…” I let my words drift off, not sure I want to repeat what she said.

I find you worthy.

Talk about pressure.

Uneasy, I shift my weight, tugging at the dress.

“It means you wear the gods’ approval.” The Roth finally gets off his knees, sighing as he rubs his lower back. “Complete the ceremony with her and no one will doubt the truth of your words, that the human females are worthy mates.”

Excitement glitters in Nydo’s gaze.

“I knew it.” He takes my hand, eyes slitting as he brushes a kiss over my knuckles. “We will emerge victorious against the Overlord. Wait and see.” He’s wearing gold-red pants that match my gown, and they set off his gorgeous eyes and stunning body.

Nydo is so mouth-wateringly delicious that my entire body sings with the need to touch him, and it’s so damn distracting that it almost, almost makes me forget my unease.

Because to be found worthy? To be marked by the hand of some alien god, and to officially mate Nydo in some mysterious ceremony… It doesn’t feel like I’m pretending anymore.

He stares at me hungrily, and when I wet my lips, his gaze dips to my mouth.

“You are the most stunning creature I have ever seen in my lifetime,” he tells me, and my heart beats a little faster.

It’s starting to feel real.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

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NYDO

Everything is working out according to plan. Even better than I could have imagined. The gods have marked my Leigh with favor, gold symbols curling down the side of her face in a pretty, narrow strip.

She gleams in the torchlight, her smooth skin golden and sparkling. The ceremonial dress is outshined by her luxurious red locks, and I want nothing more than to spend the next hours feasting my eyes on her, and then setting my mouth to her until she whines and begs for release.

“I’m not sure I want to know more,” she says, a nervous chuckle following the words.

“Then we will not burden you with it.” I shoot a meaningful glare at the priest, and he audibly swallows.

She looses a long sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as she composes herself.

Guilt whips through me. Leigh clearly is struggling with this, with the ceremony, with all the changes that are about to happen, and she doesn’t even know the half of it.

My teeth grind together.

I am so close now, to proving my place here as the King of Roth, to overthrowing the Overlord and saving the human females of Earth from a terrible fate. If I have to continue to withhold information from her to ensure my plan doesn’t fail, so be it.

It will be worth letting her rage batter me when she finds out what I have done, to see the future of the Roth secured. My future secured, as the king.

So I extend my palm to my mate, and wait for her to take it.

“I will take care of you,” I tell her suddenly, wanting to ease some of her stress. Wanting to reassure her that we are doing the right thing.

“You will keep your promises?” she asks, and her voice trembles. “All of them?”

“I will protect you. I will do what is best for you,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “I do what is best for Earth and Roth both. Do you trust me?”

She looks up at me with those luminescent green eyes, hesitation painted all over her delicate features. My heart hurts from the trust in her eyes, the slight smile that twitches along her delicious mouth.

“Yes,” she says simply, and puts her small hand in my rough, calloused grey one.

My fingers close over it, and I pull her into my chest, overcome with emotion.

I tuck my arms around her, breathing in her glorious scent, my heart full with my homecoming and my victory just within grasp. But mostly aching with an unfamiliar emotion.

“My little flame,” I say, hardly recognizing my own raspy voice.

I love her.

I love this stubborn, fiery female. And I’m going to lie to her to protect her. It’s the only way. I cannot risk her changing her mind, not when I’m so close to having everything I’ve ever wanted. I won’t risk it. I won’t risk her.

I love her.

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CHAPTER THIRTY

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LEIGH

I’m nervous as hell. My palms sweat, and I leave a shimmery path behind me, like a nervous Tinkerbell with glitter control issues.

I told him I trusted him.

Nydo looked down at me with such openness in his eyes, such adoration on his face—how could I say anything else?

He has kept me safe. He has been an asshole to me, demanding and stubborn, but I’ve given as good as I’ve gotten. Whatever is about to happen, it’s for Earth as much as it is for me.

There’s no use in enforcing our bargain and aiming for Earth if the Overlord’s just going to abduct all the women. I have to trust Nydo. I have to trust that I’m making the right choices, that I am doing the right thing.

Otherwise?

Otherwise, I might just lose my mind.

He holds my hand, his strides quick and sure, his long, muscular legs eating up the ground in front of us.

We’ve left the hand-not-maiden far behind, walked for what feels like a mile. My feet are bare, as are Nydo’s, and my ears have popped twice, which tells me we’re headed down, down deep into Roth.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to think about it, about all the pressure weighing down over us. It doesn’t work though, so I reopen my eyes.

“We are almost there, my little flame,” Nydo says, squeezing my hand, turning to look at me once more. He keeps doing that, keeps glancing back at me, as though he’s half-afraid I’m going to disappear.

“It’s gotten hotter,” I say, and my voice echoes weirdly around us. It’s dark, only a few torches every ten feet or so, and it’s impossible to tell how big the room is, or how far the stone stairs stretch below us.

Nydo has been strangely quiet, and it’s setting me on edge.

The further down we go, the more the heat intensifies. Sweat beads all over my body, but it’s so dry that it almost immediately evaporates.

“I’m thirsty,” I finally say.

“I will slake all your needs,” he rasps.

That’s all the warning I get as he pulls me forward, then throws me over one shoulder, taking the steps two and three at a time, running down them.

“Holy shit, Nydo, please don’t drop me,” I grunt, unladylike, his shoulder ramming into my gut. “I’m going to get glitter all over you.”

“You always were. I can wait to have you no longer,” he says. “You drive me wild, with that scent, your hair, this dress. I want to see you bare before me. I ache to claim you, to mate you as I should have done days and days ago.”

Warm arousal floods me, and I gasp at the sudden need, triggered by his words alone.

Before I can think up a response, Nydo slows, and sets me back on my feet.

“Come to me now, my mate. Let me look upon your flesh.”

I don’t, though. I stare around in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Where are we?” I finally manage to ask.

A pillar of flame, a waterfall of it, pours from the open mouth of a weathered statue. Lava, I realize. It drips from the eyes too, and frankly, it’s horrific. The lava pools at the statue’s feet, hissing where it hits a pool of water, steam rising all around it.

A raised stone slab sits in the middle of the room, a thin blanket and several gilded pillows scattered on it.

“This is the heart of our temple,” Nydo says, his voice soft, his gaze not leaving my face, not even for an instant. “This is where we will consummate our mating.”

“We’ve consummated a dozen times already,” I laugh, a pleasant ache at the memory of all our consummations throbbing between my thighs.

He growls low, stepping towards me.

“We have fucked,” he says in a no-nonsense, yet sensual tone that steals my breath. “I have known the pleasures of your body. I have learned what makes you pant my name, what makes you tense around my cock.”

I take a shaky breath.

“But today, we will consummate our bond. I will spill inside you, and you will be granted the ashes of Roth through my seed.” He watches me carefully, and I feel like he’s waiting for me to say something, or ask something, but all it sounds like is that he wants to come inside me.

Which, fine.

“I’m on birth control,” I say breathlessly, tapping the little patch on my shoulder. “I thought you were just being polite when you pulled out because you respected my wishes, er, in regard to pregnancy.”

“I was waiting for this moment. This will mark you as mine. Our scents and fates will be forever tangled.”

I scrunch up my nose. Mark me down as confused and horny.

“And you’ll keep your promise to me,” I hedge.

“I will keep you safe and honor you always,” Nydo growls, his eyes flashing.

“And even if we,” I clear my throat, “consummate our, ahem, mating, you’re still going to—”

My question is cut off though, as his hands grip my hips, his tongue thrusting into my mouth with a searing kiss that destroys my train of thought completely.

Oh my god.

Nothing exists but Nydo’s body, his hands, his mouth on my skin. The flesh between my legs grows heavy and slick, and I moan when his fingers knead my ass. He drags a thick finger down my backside, rubbing my pussy through the flimsy fabric, making me gasp.

“Leigh…” he groans.

His hair floats on a non-existent wind, and he’s so goddamn beautiful it hurts.

“You are everything to me. Everything.”

I stare at him, at the sincerity in his voice, the adoration plain on his face. It staggers me. The irrepressible, stubborn villain seems… completely truthful. There’s nothing coy or calculating about it.

He drops to his knees, throwing his arms around my waist and dragging his cheek across my stomach.

“I never thought it possible.”

“What?” I ask, biting back a moan as he pulls the fabric of the dress up to my hip, sliding a finger through my wetness, circling around my clit until I gasp a wordless cry.

“That I would want someone as much as I want you.” His expression is fierce as he stares up at me. “That I would need you as much as I need air to breathe, that I would… fall in love with a human.”

I swallow hard, unsure of how to respond to that. Shocked to my core at his words.

There’s no feigning the sincerity of his words.

A cool breeze licks across my skin and I shiver, his hand still playing with me.

“I love you, Leigh. You are mine. Mine.” The last word comes out on a snarl, and I inhale sharply as he thrusts a finger inside me.

“Nydo,” I groan. “Yours.”

I’m hopelessly lost in his touch, in the ferocity of his need, his words.

Loves me. He said he loves me.

He’s stilled before me, and I open my eyes, panting.

“Say it again,” he demands.

“Yours,” I whisper, cupping his face in my hands. “Yours, Nydo. For better or worse,” I add, laughing a little.

“It will be for better,” he grits out, heaving me into his arms as he gracefully stands, walking me to the dais. "Only better and better with you, my Leigh, my little flame.”

Carefully, he tugs a pillow over, then lays me down on the stone. It’s colder than I expected, what with the fucking lava statue behind us, but it feels good in the heat of the room.

“I am going to make love to you now,” he says.

I arch an eyebrow, remembering how he teased me before, tied me up and wrung orgasms out of me.

I grab his cock through his pants, a lopsided smile on my face when he groans, going completely still. Rolling his pants down his muscular thighs, I dip my mouth to the crown of his cock.

Ragged breath rushes over my shoulders, and I smile to myself, satisfied at his reaction.

When I drag my tongue across his salty slit, he groans as if in pain, his hands going to my scalp.

“Fuck, yes,” he grits out. “I like that.”

“I thought you might,” I say, feeling sassy and powerful. He’s so big, there’s no way I’m going to be able to fit all of him in my mouth. I want him to feel good, though. I want to bring him to the brink, just like he did with me, until he’s desperate for release.

I’m going to enjoy this very, very much.

I wrap one hand around the base of his cock, working him with my fingers while I lick him with small, teasing strokes. Finally, I lock my lips around him and suck.

“My little flame,” he moans, his fingernails scraping across the back of my neck. I can tell he’s right on the edge, wanting to wrest control back, the way my Nydo always does, always tries to stay in control.

I suck him harder, refusing to give up this heady feeling of having him at my mercy.

“Feels so good,” he grits out.

Then I feel it—the edge of his power, the phantom warmth trickling over my hard nipples, through my slick pussy, and I moan around his cock, working him with a furious pace, his pre-cum sliding across my tongue.

“Enough,” he finally says, eyes flashing as he lifts me up and back. “I can scent your arousal, and I’ve waited long enough to claim your pretty cunt.”

I stare at him, high on lust, dizzy with need.

And then I laugh, scooting back on the stone dais, ripping off the stupid dress and spreading my legs wide.

“Then come get it,” I say, arching a brow in challenge.

He launches himself at me and I squeal, laughing, as he clamps down on one of my nipples, teasing my clit with expert strokes.

“Mine,” he says, never taking his eyes from me.

His cock pushes at my entrance, and I lift my hips up, wanting him. Wanting more. Wanting all of him, always.

“Yours,” I say, and he thrusts into me hard enough that I arch up, into his arms.

He tugs me onto his lap, my legs going around his waist.

“Ride me,” he says.

Like this, we’re face to face, locked eye to eye. There’s no getting away from his stare, from that red-orange glow that heats me from the inside out. His power lashes against my senses, hot and strong and working me into a frenzy as I flick my hips back and forth, doing as he asked.

“Love you so much,” he pants, and it feels like the truth.

“Nydo,” I exhale, so fucking close. “Yours.”

“Mine,” he says, his teeth grazing my neck.

He picks up the pace, rocking in and out of me, his hands pinned against my hips. I groan, savoring his onslaught, loving the feel of his thickness, the feel of his power on my skin. Loving this, loving it more than I ever thought possible.

“Nydo,” I say again, my voice thready and high.

“Come for me, my queen,” he demands, and I do, his power stroking over my clit, lapping at it, even as he plunges in and out of me.

He keeps going, finally flipping me onto my back, picking up the pace until he’s fucking me across the stone dais, driving into me like his life depends on it.

I make an animalistic noise, scratching down his back.

“Mine, my flame,” he says, and he buries his face in my hair as he surges into me, his arms locked tight around me.

I feel it when he comes, hotter than any man I’ve ever been with. It seems endless, near-scorching, and I whimper, my eyes wide, fear threading through me.

“It’s hot.”

“Take it,” Nydo says. “You’re my mate. Take it all.”

His power flicks my clit, and I tumble over the edge again, stars exploding behind my eyes, glimmering through my skin.

It’s not until several minutes later, when I’ve started to come back to reality, sweaty and worn out, that I realize it’s not the orgasm after-glow.

It’s not even the shimmering oil.

There are things… under my skin.

Marks.

My stomach roils, and I stare in horror at my arm, still wrapped around his grey, velvety neck. Dark golden, nearly bronze markings swirl under my skin… matching his charcoal-grey ones.

His ash marks.

Roghat’s strange words whisper back through my brain. No markings.

This is what he meant.

He smiles down at me, wonder and pleasure in his eyes. I slide out from under him, staring down at my naked, transformed body. This is what they meant.

“Mine,” he says. “Forever mine.”

“You bastard,” I whisper, sick to my stomach, feeling like the biggest fucking idiot in the universe.

He frowns at me, reaching a hand out to grab me again, but I scuttle out of his grasp, panting, on the verge of tears.

“What did you do to me?” I want to scream. I want to rage. I can barely form words.

He blinks, confusion stealing across his features. “You said you were mine.”

“You… changed me. You marked me. Literally. You can’t just… You lied to me.”

“I never lied to you about this,” he says gravely.

I blink, processing his words, tears threatening, stinging the back of my eyes. “You didn’t tell me. You avoided telling me. You manipulated me. It’s a lie of omission. I’m such a fucking idiot.” I’m crying now, pressing my palms against my eyes and trying to staunch the flow. “I thought you meant it when you said you loved me.”

“I do love you,” he says, his voice ragged, anger and despair warring across his face.

“You don’t deliberately mislead the person you love. You don’t change them permanently, fundamentally, to get your way.”