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It appeared to Lily as if he couldn’t decide whether to wring her neck or tear her clothes off. More disturbing still, she couldn’t decide which fate she’d prefer.
He frowned again, and a low, rattling growl escaped him. It almost sounded like a ragged, resonant hiss. Although she’d never heard a sound quite like it before, the intention was clear. She’d been warned. “Look, little female. I can’t control it, so stop complaining about it.” His hand shot up to grip the back of her neck, dragging it forward until his mouth was a breath away from her ear. “You don’t hear me complaining every time the scent of arousal floods your cunt.”
Why was she saying this? Was she so infatuated with Verakko that she felt she could have a meaningless relationship with him? Not likely. A small, sad smile curled the corner of his mouth. He lifted his hand as if to reach out to her, then curled his fingers into a fist and dropped it back to his side. “It would mean something to me.”
