Page 153 of Haunted Crowns
Then she rolled her hips. Slow. Merciless. Each motion dragged him closer to madness.
And then he snapped.
With a savage growl, he flipped her beneath him. His hands slammed into the mattress, caging her like a beast loosed from its leash.
His mouth hovered above hers, breath tangled. “You wanted me undone, Eris?” he groaned, grinding his hips into hers, hard, punishing. “Look what you’ve done to me.”
She gasped at his obscene size as he pressed against her entrance, and she opened wider, desperate to take him in. He cursed at how ready she already was.
Then her lips brushed his ear. “Take me,my king,” she breathed, each word a vow and a challenge. “Wreck me. Ruin me. What are you waiting for?”
Something in him shattered beyond recognition. He thrust into her so hard it knocked the breath from her lungs, and he didn’t stop. He drove into her again and again, feral, deep, like a sinner devouring the sacred.
And she took him like she was born for this.
“Harder,” she choked.
And gods, he did—slamming into her like it was the only way to stay alive.
The mattress groaned beneath them, the scent of sweat and skin filling the room. His hand slipped down, gripping her thigh, then her ribs—then sliding up to her throat, fingers curving gently, possessively.
She didn’t flinch.
He wasn’t hurting her. He was holding her like a psalm. Like a prayer that only her body could answer.
Then her fingers tangled in his hair, yanking him down to her throat. “Drink,” she commanded.
His eyes flared.
No.
This wasn’t just forbidden. It was sacred—flesh and soul, power and bond. A line no one crossed.
His lips hovered at her throat, her pulse pounding against his mouth. Her skin was warm beneath him, trembling. He shouldn’t. But his tongue flicked out for a single taste. Just one.
Gods.
His breath shuddered. His grip faltered. Control slipped through him, too fast to catch.
She tilted her neck, offering herself like a prayer. “Do it,” she ordered.
And he did. This wouldn’t be the first rule she made him break. It wouldn’t be the last.
With a guttural roar, his fangs pierced her skin, and the world fell away.
Her scream was not pain; it was transcendence. Her back arched. Nails sank deep as her body convulsed with pleasure that bordered on violence.
Her blood hit his tongue, and he roared. It scorched through him like divine wildfire. Her soul, her power, her everything flooded into him with every pull.
He fucked her like a man consumed, his hips relentless, his growls feral.
She took it all and gave him more.
“I need you,” she gasped, her hands locked around his head, holding him to her neck. “Don’t you dare stop.”
And he didn’t. He couldn’t. His body no longer obeyed thought. It moved by ritual. By instinct. Each thrust was a prayer. Each drop of blood was worship. Power surged through him, raw and sacred, terrifying in its totality. Their bodies blurred into one breath, one hunger. One act of divine destruction.
And when she came, she screamed his name like it was the only word she had ever known.
