Page 18 of Fathom

She had to realize I was fighting with myself, with my desire to sink my teeth into her tender flesh to tear her apart and devour her.

So she had taken her safety into her own hand.

My admiration for her skyrocketed. Not only had she escaped from a hunting pack, not only was she handling being in a strange place without knowing the language admirably well, but when confronted with the danger of me, she hadn't panicked or frozen. If she had struggled to get out of my grip, I could have bitten her. I wasn't in the right state of mind, and she had done the best possible thing she could have to take control of the situation.

Now I had to just get out of this without my balls being ripped off.

She said something, her tone firm.

“I’m under control,” I said, still holding onto her tight. “I won’t hurt you.”

"No hand," she said, her words not making any sense as her own hand flexed on me.

It felt good, too good.

I stifled a groan as she shifted me around in her hand,touching me in a new way, and I felt myself start to thicken further, a hot spike of need rushing through me, a desire to take her, flip her over, and lift her hips up, a desire to take what couldn't be offered freely without the words to make sense of it all.

Fuck, I wanted to fuck her.

That desire was hard and powerful, rushing over the feral need to bite and kill, and the relief of it was terrifying and delirious. I'd never wanted to fuck my prey before. This was confusing, and the touch of her hand on me was too much.

“No,” I told her. "Please."

"No hand," she insisted, her free hand reaching up to tap the arms that pinned her against me.

I had been clutching at her this whole time. Even as I said no, I hadn’t let her go.

I released her, freeing her from the trap of my arms that had pinned her close enough to bite.

She let go of me just as suddenly as she grabbed me, sliding her hand up out of my trousers, her eyes fixed on me as she crept back away from me, watching me for any movement. I held still, forcing my hair back so it wouldn't reach for her. She grabbed the pillow and slid off the bed, and went across the room to where I had slept the night before. She dropped the pillow down and lay on top of it, staring at me the entire time.

"I'm sorry I grabbed you like that," I told her. "You were right to defend yourself."

I could have killed her, all because for a brief moment I thought it would be okay if I let her get closer to me.

But she was prey; I could never be close to her.

"I sorry hand touch," she told me.

I stayed there in the bed, staring back at her from across the room. She didn't break away from my gaze, and something inmy heart shuddered. I closed my eyes, separating myself from the intensity of her gaze without turning away from it.

She had done something I didn’t know was possible.

She had taken my hunger, my instinct, and redirected it. I had never lusted after an herbivore before, not in that way. I had never considered being with a prey species, as no matter what the law said, it was obscene. I’d only ever felt the sickening flashes of wanting to eat them; the idea of mating with them made me sick to my stomach, as it was taking the abusive balance of power to a level I'd never thought acceptable, not for me anyway.

She had taken my instincts and redirected them with her touch.

I wanted her under me, crying out my name.

I wanted her in my bed again.

The urge was too strong, and I needed to give in to it before it grew into something worse. My eyes snapped open, and I lurched off the bed so suddenly that she had a standard prey reaction, her entire body tensing up as she suddenly froze in place. I was over to her in a flash, a flash of vicious glee slicing into me as I pounced on her, scooping her up, pillow and all, before depositing her gently back down on my bed.

“You stay on the bed,” I said. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Then I grabbed the blanket and yanked it up to cover her entirely, hiding her from my sight.

I went back over to the floor and lay down with my back to her, turning away from her so I didn't stare at her, imagining things about her I had no right to imagine. I felt her eyes on me, but I didn’t look over. If I stared at her for too long, the thoughts my mind would turn to would draw me back to her side.