“You’re not them.”
I laugh. It’s bitter and shaky. “I’m not them. But I’m something.” Something I don’t want to think about. Denial is an old friend.
He takes a deep breath through his nose, his mouth flattening. His eyes close and then open again, snaring mine. “I’ll let this go, Cat. For us. I’ll let all these weeks of deception go, and we can move on from here. Just promise me one thing—that there’s nothing else. Vow there are no more secrets between us.”
My gut clenches, and I look down.
Griffin instantly reacts. “What?” he demands. “What is it?”
Toxic words well up, a poison prophecy. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
His eyes turn thunderous, and that tight muscle bounces in his jaw.
“It isn’t about trusting you,” I try to explain. “I love you. I trust you. It’s about me. About…trusting myself.”
He’s silent for so long that fear takes root in my belly. Then, so low I almost don’t hear him, “Fine.”
“Fine?”
He nods brusquely, curt and small, almost like it’s against his will. “For now. But at least answer this. Why did you leave the castle? How could you leave?”
I frown. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
Griffin growls low in his throat. He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine, gently at first, and then much harder. “Always want you.”
His words are a promise, his kiss a claim. I kiss him back, hardly taking the time to breathe, and with the first searing slide of his tongue over mine, Griffin conquers my body, my soul, and my bruised heart with no effort at all. They were his all along.
I shift in his arms and straddle him, wedging my knees on either side of his hips. His hands rake down my back to cup my bottom, squeezing in that rough way he knows I love—and he loves just as much. He gathers my nightdress around my hips, bunching it in his fists. When his hands move back up, they take the gauzy material with them.
Griffin breaks the kiss to draw the garment up over my head. Frowning, he tosses it aside. “What’s this?”
“A nightgown.”
“I know it’s a nightgown. Where did you get it?”
“Kaia gave it to me from her collection.”
“Kaia?” It’s always unsettling the way his voice can turn chilling without rising or falling a notch. “My fifteen-year-old sister, Kaia?”
“Yes, that Kaia. And Jocasta and I are the only ones who have ever seen her dressed like this, so you can stop plotting torture and imprisonment.”
“But…Kaia?”
“She’s fifteen, Griffin. Some girls are married by then. I’m surprised she’s not sneaking around and kissing the pages.”
His eyes darken dangerously. “Did you kiss the pages?”
“At fifteen?” I nod. “And fourteen. And thirteen…”
“If you say twelve,” he growls, “I won’t be accountable for my actions.”
I tilt my chin up and look at him through narrowed eyes. I’m learning to appreciate this man’s irrational jealousy. “Twelve…”
Snarling a curse, Griffin flips me underneath him. I land on my back, only getting in half a bounce before his weight presses me into the mattress, the hard, powerful lines of his body a delicious counterpoint to all my softer places. Braced above me, he closes his eyes and scrubs one hand down his face. Calluses scrape over stubble. “We’ll talk about this—and Kaia—later. Right now, we’re talking about us.”
I wiggle my hips. “We were talking?”
Heat flares in his eyes. His body answers me—his arousal growing thicker and harder—but his mind is still occupied by less pleasant things. “No, but we should have been.” He lifts off me enough to concentrate. “You thought I didn’t want you? How could you ever think that?”
The pain of our fight comes rushing back, and I stiffen. “It wasn’t an entirely absurd conclusion, you know. Your ‘I can’t be with you’ was a big hint.”
Griffin’s large hands bracket my head. His gaze troubled, he sweeps his thumbs over my cheekbones in a rough-skinned caress. “You misunderstood. And I wasn’t clear, which I’m sorry about. But that was never what I meant.”
“But I’m the enemy.”
Griffin’s eyebrows slam down. “Not my enemy.”
“A big obstacle, then! You want to take over the realms. You want to turn them into one kingdom and be their king.” It isn’t easy, but I slip out from under him and sit up, facing him. “That’s not what I want. I’ve never wanted that, and while I live, it’s technically not even possible. As a direct descendant of the Origin—Thalyria’s original king—I will always outrank you. I don’t want to rule a kingdom. I don’t want to be Alpha. For the Gods’ sakes, I don’t even want to be Beta. Or the consort. Or whatever!”
Griffin’s brow furrows. “I don’t care who’s officially in charge as long as we do what needs to be done. Together.”
I shake my head. “I think you do care. In the end, you will.”
“And I think you want to stick your head in the sand and only come out when you have to save someone you love. What about everyone else? The realms are going to the Underworld with these rotten Alphas. They have been for generations. People are suffering. They need help.”
“And that’s the difference between us!” What makes Griffin good and a leader, and what makes me…me. “I don’t want to risk war, and death, and destruction, and the total annihilation of every single person I care about for the sake of people I don’t even know!”
“That’s not true. That’s not you, Cat.”
“It is me. You called me self-sacrificing. You’re right. I am—for the people I love. It’ll get me killed. I know that. I accept that. What I don’t accept is dying for anyone else.”
He slices his head to the side. Stubborn man. “The Power Bid is here. War will come, whether we court it or not. Innocent people will suffer, and you won’t be able to stand it.”
I look at him in shock. Is that really what he thinks? How he sees me?
My heart starts beating too fast. In my mind, I see armies clashing. I see me in the center of a raging storm and bodies strewn around me. Suddenly, every last one of those bodies is my mother’s. Sable hair. Green eyes. A crown of Fisan pearls. My crown.
“No, Griffin, I…” I squeeze my eyes shut. She’s still there. She sits up and looks at me like I betrayed her.
I open my eyes again. This view is much better. “Andromeda is too powerful. She’ll win. She always wins, and when you’re dead, and it’s all my fault, I will never recover.” My voice breaks, and I inhale sharply, a fragile, reedy sound catching in the back of my throat.
Griffin understands this fear. It’s one I’ve shared with him—and yet he persists in not seeing our relationship for the death sentence it is. He gathers me close, smoothing his warm hand up my naked back. His fingers stop on my nape, locking me in place. “I’m hard to kill. And you won’t fail. You never fail.”
Pressing my lips together, I lean my forehead against his chest. Seeking comfort? Hiding, really. I already failed. I was fifteen. I stole back into my home, armed not only with a knife and my new invisibility and ability to steal magic—gifts from Poseidon’s Lake Oracle—but also with a soul-burning hatred after my sister’s brutal death. Mother was to blame for that, and for so many other things. It would have been so easy to take my revenge. She would never have seen me coming.
But when I found the cruel and mighty Alpha Fisa chewing her lip to blood, her eyes frenzied because she couldn’t find me… I couldn’t do it. I was weak and stupid because I thought, just maybe, Mother was acting like a normal person for once.
She didn’t love me, or miss me. Nothing as pure as that. But I was something to her, something more than just the Kingmaker. I didn’t know what. And I still don’t. But whatever it was stopped m
e, and then I hurt her in the only way I could. I ran.
Griffin takes my face in his hands, tilting it up, his grip light but firm enough to keep me from turning away. “Stop looking for things that could go wrong instead of finding things that will go right.”
I roll my eyes, huffing a little. “Great. An eternal optimist.”
Griffin squashes my cheeks until my lips pucker. “Am I going to have to kiss you into submission?”
I snort. Sort of. It’s hard with my face all mashed up. “Submission? When has that ever happened?”
He gives me the roguish half-smile that always makes my heart skip a beat. He winks, and I could swear I’m looking at a Fisan pirate. Something in my chest flutters.
“It was worth a try.” Sobering, Griffin lets go of my cheeks. “I know it’s hard for you to trust, and always has been, but you should have had more confidence in me. In us. You should never have left.”
Deep hurt underlies his carefully even tone. Griffin’s neutral voice always does strange and painful things to my heart.
“I walked across the courtyard to the barracks.” Apparently, the last place anyone thought to look for me.
Griffin levels his hard stare on me. “You shouldn’t have left.”
“You destroyed our bed and looked like you wanted to rip me limb from limb.”
He keeps staring. “You. Shouldn’t. Have. Left.”
I toss up my hands. “I thought you wanted me to go! I thought I had to. The castle is your home. Your right. Your legacy. I don’t belong there.”
“Don’t belong there?” Careful neutrality deserts him. His eyes flash gray fire.
Suddenly nervous, I shake my head. I think I just woke the slumbering Cyclops inside every man—his inner, primal monster.
“Well, if you’d agree to marry me, you bloody well would!”
Uh-oh. That’s the one. The colossal, one-eyed, battering ram of a warrior creature. Awake. And livid. “That hardly matters, considering everything else that’s going on.”
“Hardly matters?” Griffin demands. “It’ll matter when we have our first bastard!”
I wrinkle my nose. He’s really hung up on that.
“It’ll matter when we have realm functions, and I can’t claim you in any meaningful way.”
I shrug. I don’t give a Cyclops’s eye about my place in realm functions.
“It’ll matter when my sisters tell me they’re doing the same thing with some man because they worship you and hang on your every word.”
My lips thin. Responsibility rears its annoying head.
“It’ll matter if someone steals you, and I can’t tell my army we’re going to war for my wife!”
“No one’s going to steal me.”
“I stole you!”
“Stop roaring at me! I’m not deaf!”
Calm descends like a colossus falling on my head. Griffin goes utterly still, and yet he vibrates.
Trepidation skips along my spine. Our eyes meet, and his are like thunder before a storm.
I catch my lower lip between my teeth. “What are you thinking?”
His ominous answer comes seconds after he grabs my wrists and hauls me to my feet. “I’m thinking about teaching you a lesson, Your Foolishness.”
CHAPTER 3
Griffin spins me and pushes me up against the wall. He holds my wrists above my head in one hand, pulling so that my arms are almost fully extended. His other hand palms my naked bottom, its scorching heat a shocking contrast to the cool stone against my front. My nipples pebble against the smooth surface. One of Griffin’s splayed fingers dips into my cleft, sending a lightning bolt of desire through me. I might like this lesson.
His hand leaves my body, though. Cool air rushes in to chill my backside, and goose bumps shiver across my lower back. I wait, a thrilling riot of sensations and emotions heightening my anticipation. What will he do to me? If it’s anything like usual, I’m all in.
Without warning, Griffin smacks my ass so hard I yelp and shoot forward against the wall. The sting is hot and sharp, inside and out.
“Ow!” I glare at him over my shoulder. “Did you just spank me?”
“Yes.” He glares back. Smack! “Twice.”
I gasp. “Griffin!”
“The second time was for kissing pages when you were twelve,” he growls. “The first time was for driving me insane.”
I kick back, but my foot barely connects. He’s too damn fast. “You’ll pay for this,” I grind out, stomping on his toes. Twice. My bare foot doesn’t appear to faze him through the thick leather of his boot. “I swear you’ll pay.”
“If I pay, I’d better be buying a bride.”
“Argh! You’re impossible!”
Griffin leans in to me, asking gruffly against my cheek, “Where do you belong?”
“What?” My backside smarts. I liked it better when spanking was a metaphor.
Excitement still surges through me, along with a surprising rush of eagerness when Griffin palms my bottom again. His long fingers delve further toward my core, cupping me completely. I stop struggling, craving his next touch more than I crave air. He gently rocks his fingers through my folds, and my forehead drops against the wall. I moan in total surrender, growing wet for him after only a few strokes.
Griffin’s broad front presses against my back. He pushes my hair aside with his face, and then his lips brush the sensitive spot below my ear. I feel his teeth, his tongue, and then his amazing mouth trails lightly over my nape, sending hot little shivers down my spine and arms. He nuzzles and kisses, his breath increasingly ragged against my neck. My blood turns molten. Reckless and ready for anything, I press backward into his arousal and grind my hips.
His free hand slides around my hip to my lower abdomen, holding me tightly as he presses me harder against him. “Where do you belong?” Griffin asks again, his question a gravelly rumble against my neck.
A smile curves my lips. I understand the rules now. I’m ready to play.
I pull on my wrists as hard as I can. Griffin tightens his grip, sending a thrill of danger and excitement through me. Rough and low, he says my name as he lifts his hand from my stomach. Between our bodies, I feel him work his belt free. A moment later, his pants drop, and his metal buckle hits the floor. One-handed, he rips his tunic over his head, leaving it dangling from the arm still holding me against the wall.
His bare torso touches my bare back, the contact scalding. Need burns through me. I lean back into Griffin’s powerful body and rub myself against him. Crisp hair tickles the backs of my thighs. I want to touch him, but Griffin is in complete control. I can only feel, and wait, and crave, and the newness and unpredictability of his rough play drive my desire to Olympian heights.
Griffin’s free hand comes around me again, grazing up my front until his knuckles skim the undersides of my breasts. Lightning sizzles under my skin, streaking straight to where I long for him to fill me. He touches my breasts—cupping, circling, teasing, squeezing—and my head falls back against his chest. I make breathless sounds, panting. He brushes the callused pad of his thumb over one sensitive peak. Back and forth. He does the same to the other, and I press my legs together, my tightening nerves restless for friction. Griffin tugs on my nipple. Need pulses at the apex of my thighs, and my legs start to quiver.
“You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?” I ask.
His voice is an erotic promise in my ear. “You have no idea.”
Griffin’s warm breath whispers over my neck. My wrists are a little sore and my arms are starting to ache, but the dull pain only accentuates the pleasure and exhilaration storming the rest of my body. Heady sensations spiral through me. Desire flares hotter with Griffin’s every touch. I shudder when he rubs his rough palm in a slow circle just below my navel. He’s barely even touched me where I really want him, but the mounting t
ension between my legs already has me tumbling toward release.
“Griffin.”
“Cat?”
“Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
Pleasure and frustration dance around each other inside of me, intense, unlikely partners. I flex my fingers. They’re going numb. “Touch me lower. Touch me where I need you.”
His hand slides down. I can feel the heat of his fingers, poised to bring me a shattering orgasm. My sex throbs, each needy beat bringing me closer. I groan, and the husky sound is loud in the room that’s quiet except for our harsh breathing and the popping of the torch.
Griffin’s teeth graze my neck. He nips my shoulder and then growls against my skin, “Where do you belong?”
I squirm when his tongue trails over the spot he just bit. I know what he wants to hear. I don’t give it to him yet. I’m just insane enough to want to prolong this sensual torture. “I belong…here?”
Griffin lifts his face from my neck, his stubble a delicious scrape against my nape. A deep rumble is my only warning before he slaps my ass again like he means it.
I gasp, shooting forward. Something clenches deep down, flooding me with wet heat. Griffin stretches me up to my full height, extending my arms above my head. Bracing his forearm against the wall to help carry my weight, he pulls, and my heels leave the floor.
I make a strangled sound. My arms ache, my ass smarts, and by Gods I’m about to explode!
“Wrong answer.” He cages me, and his thick shaft presses against my backside. He circles my thigh with his hand and then lifts my leg, hooking his free arm under my knee and leaving me spread open and pivoting on the ball of one foot. I don’t worry about falling. I’m too focused on the hot, blunt tip of Griffin’s erection as he lifts me even higher and slides it between my legs. He slowly thrusts, guiding his iron hardness through my slick folds and then right over my most sensitive spot. I forget to breathe.
“Where do you belong?” He thrusts again, the slow friction driving me wild.
“Oh my Gods…” I moan when he spreads me wider.
“Wrong answer.”
Breath of Fire Page 3
