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He wanted to see what it looked like when she truly begged, and imagined it would be so fucking pretty.
“Good girl.”
“Violence from beautiful creatures,” he said, flourishing his hand and retrieving a needle and thread from somewhere inside his shadows. Then he leaned over, just as he dropped the two things in her small hands, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “. . . is one of the things I like.”
Fuck, she looked so soft and pliable, so absolutely Gods damned edible.
“Good,” he said, against her temple, watching her carefully, the approval escaping him before he could rein it back. He shouldn’t want to reward her, not when she was one of them, but when she rocked her hips back against his length because of his words, the need to talk her onto a new ledge imprinted itself onto his mind. Aheia likes praise.
“I’m the only God you should be concerning yourself with while my fingers are inside of you.”
“Show me that helfyre tonight, little goddess. But more importantly, show them,” he said.
If she truly was his toy, his pet, his thing, she should have felt lesser. But when she looked up at him and those eyes burned, watching her and only her, she felt seen and fucking powerful instead.
Fuck, her blood had tasted fucking hypnotizing. Maybe it was because she was a Mithra, but he’d never known Mithra to have sweet blood. It imprinted itself on his tongue and mixed with the ecstasy that dripped down her thighs. The need to brand, to claim, to fuck tore at him as he tried to keep his pace slow for her.
“I want your shadows,” she gasped, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Keep your eyes on me, little goddess. I want you to know exactly who’s making you feel this way.”
“To find out I had absolutely no intention of leaving here without you.”
“Ruhí . . . It means my soul.”
“Save that pretty anger for later. I have some ideas for it,”
