Igniting Cinder (The Lost Girls, #3)

by Holly Roberds

Kaison leans in close, his voice a feather-light whisper against my ear. “Having fun, my love?” he teases, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. I bite my lip to stifle a gasp as the vibrations intensify yet again. Holy fuck, did someone ask me a question? I must make some sound resembling confusion. Kaison lifts his champagne lazily. “Our guests are speculating on if you will insist on a white virginal dress the humans favor for our nuptials, or if you will take on our traditional colors for matrimony?” He’s completely unaffected, putting me on the spot on purpose. I want to smack him. I want to fuck him. I want—I want⁠— “I don't look good in white.” My words come out so tight, they almost unravel into a lewd moan of pleasure. “Au contraire my bride, I believe it could be quite a sweet look for you,” Kaison coos. I’m not sure if it’s our sickening affection or my current state of approaching a bone-shattering orgasm, but I sense the discomfort at the table. Also—sweet? I’ll show him sweet. I'll beat him to death with my six-inch platform boots with the spikes on them until he’s a bloody pulp⁠— The buzzing switches from an insistent thrum to a syncopated pattern. I bite my tongue even as I shiver. “Oh my. Are you cold, my dearest?” Kaison dotes with false concern. Forget beating him to death. I'm going to strap him to a bed and ride his face until he’s tongue fucked me into next year. And long after his jaw is sore and popping from the effort, I’ll make him do it ...