Adrian entered the tent. I felt his presence like a chill that trailed up my spine, and I turned to face
him, repressing the urge to take a breath. I knew if I did, my body would tremble, and I did not wish for
him to see that. As he filled the space, I wondered if he had just fed from Safira, and the thought quelled
the heat blossoming in the pit of my stomach.
“Sated?” I asked, arching a brow, hating the jealousy that lanced through me at the thought of
how he would hold her as he took from her.
“Hardly,” he replied.
We stared at each other for a moment before Adrian shifted so that what remained of the night
filtered in through the tent opening. The day was dawning red, a constant reminder that I was now in
Revekka—far from my home, surrounded by my enemy.
“I thought you might like a bath,” he said. “The hot springs are not far.”
I ached at the thought of immersing myself in warm water. After days of traveling on a horse, my
body throbbed.
“I thought water was dangerous,” I said, recalling Sorin’s explanation of the Alps.
“Hot water is safe,” he said.
“And the woods around the springs?”
“You think I would let anything happen to you?”
“Only if you were distracted,” I said.
“Very few things can distract me, Sparrow.”
“Am I to take that as a challenge?”
“Not if you want to survive.”
Once again, there was silence between us, and then Adrian gestured outside.
“Come,” he said.
I raised a brow. Though I knew what he meant, I did not like being commanded so I remained
where I was.
“I am afraid you will have to do more to earn it, King Adrian.”
He grinned. “Follow me and I will.”
My body flushed and I rose, holding his gaze as I approached. He followed close as I passed him,
and then moved to walk beside me once the night enveloped us. His presence was warm compared to
the cold night, and I drew closer as we stepped between the darkness of the trees, unnerved by the
woods. There were no sounds, save for our feet shuffling over moist leaves, and as the sky lightened to
crimson, a mist crept low over the ground.
“How do you know about this spring?” I asked.
“I have always known about it,” he answered, and there was something in his voice that made me
look at him. He did not return my gaze, and I wondered what sort of memories were attached to this
place—were they as bloody as the ones that ran deep into the earth at my feet? If so, was he only leading
me there to prove a point? That my view of history was skewed?
I hesitated a step, and Adrian noticed. He paused and turned to face me, brows lowering.
“Are you all right?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“Afraid?”
“No,” I said.
He watched me for a moment, and I wondered if he was trying to read my mind, but he said
nothing and continued until the earth became rocky at our feet. At some point, Adrian took my hand,
helping me up larger rocks until a pool of steaming water appeared before us. The water was tinged with
red, reflecting the sky overhead, and the heat radiating from the surface drew perspiration from my skin.
I bent and dipped my fingers into the water, testing the temperature.
“Bathe,” Adrian said, and he seated himself a few feet away.
“You do not have to command me.”
“Perhaps I am just eager to watch.”
I held his gaze for a beat before undressing—a slow unveiling of my skin that had him leaning
forward, hands clenched around the edge of the rock. I lowered myself into the pool. The water felt so
good against my aching body, I sighed and immersed myself completely. As I did, I felt a sharp slice to
the bottom of my foot. The pain was not nearly as concerning as my excitement at finding a potential
weapon. I reached farther, scooping up the sharpened rock.
I rose a short time later, keeping my hands below the water but allowing my breasts to remain
exposed for Adrian’s view—a distraction that worked because Adrian rose and began to undress. I
watched him until he stood naked before me, the contour of his hard muscles shadowed by the red sky,
the hard edge of his cock rose, erect—it was the evidence of my power over him, and I, honestly, adored
it.
“I thought you preferred to watch,” I said, as Adrian approached.
“You make it hard to remain idle.”
We circled each other—predator and prey. I kept my thoughts focused on his body—not on what I
intended to do, but what I wanted to do—which was touch him, taste him, take him. I felt the heaviness of
my sin, of my treason, and I clutched the sharpened stone tighter in my hand, my redemption.
I moved toward him and there was a light in his eyes that told me he would succumb to me.
When I was close, I grasped his cock, drawing my hand up and down his shaft. He groaned, and I
whispered, “Do you want my mouth?”
“You never have to ask,” he said. “I will always welcome you.”
I could not help smiling. I was certain he would change his mind.
I held his cock and drew him back until he sat upon a rock at the edge of the pool—and then I
went down and took him into my mouth. Adrian inhaled between his teeth, one of his hands gripped the
back of my head. I glanced up at him and found him watching, eyes alight, so I continued tracing his
crown with my tongue and when his head rolled back, I took my opportunity, gripping my weapon and
shoving it deep in his shoulder. Adrian offered an almost animalistic growl as his hand clamped down
upon my wrist, his severe eyes holding mine.
This was a mistake.
“Oh, my sweet. You should not have done that.”
He stood, still holding my head, and turned me so that I now sat.
“I believe before you stabbed me, we were in the middle of something.”
I glared at him.
“You want me to finish sucking your cock?”
The rock was still lodged in his shoulder.
“Believe it or not, your attempts to kill me are very arousing.”
“I hate you.”
“Maybe,” he said with a soft smile. “But you like me enough to fuck, and right now, that’s all I care about.”
I took him into my hand, stroking him to the tip and as I started to take him into my mouth, his
hand tightened in my hair.
“If you bite me,” he warned, “you won’t be sucking my dick. I’ll be fucking your mouth.”
I wanted to bite him—to defy him—because a deep part of me wanted to know what it would be
like to have him take that kind of control. My eyes trailed the blood dripping down his chest and finally fell
to his cock. I returned to my duty which did not feel like a duty at all but a pleasure that burned my skin to bones. I felt exposed beneath Adrian’s hungry gaze, and as his fingers tightened in my hair and his
breath quickened, I found myself wanting more from him.
Give me everything—every ounce of your pleasure.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
When he left my mouth, his come dripped upon my skin.
He gripped my head, and I rose to meet his mouth. His kiss seared my skin, and I let him devour
me. I was not prepared for how quickly he broke away, only to pull my makeshift blade from his shoulder
with a growl. He tossed it and then reached for me once more.
“Tell me you like my cock,” he said. “And I will reward you with release.”
I glared at him, hating that he wanted those words from me—and yet the thought of shattering by
his hand drew them from my mouth like a prayer to the goddesses.
“I do,” I said.
“Say the words, Sparrow.”
“I like your fucking cock,” I said between my teeth.
Adrian’s hands were everywhere, drawing me tight against him as he kissed my mouth and my
neck and my breasts, and soon my back met the uneven surface of the rock where I had sat earlier, my
legs open, my heat exposed to Adrian’s hunger. As he bent to taste me, he met my gaze.
“Is this what your disgust tastes like?”
For a moment, I felt a flush of embarrassment, but recognized quickly that he was mocking me,
so I spoke, angry.
“I don‘t have to like you to fuck you,” I said.
He chuckled, offering no sign that my comment hurt him—and I suppose he needed nothing more
than the evidence of my arousal to know that I didn’t hate him as much as I pretended.