Page 84 of The Serpent Prince

It wasn’t that Imani didn’t want children—she did. Elves were a species obsessed with the idea of reproducing. Only one out of two Norn babes survived. But the mere thought of breeding with the arrogant prince who carried an alarmingly wonderful scent was the last thing Imani wanted floating into her rioting mind.

This binding to Kiran was abnormal. It was pulling them together in a way that scared her. She needed distance.

“We can’t make this a habit of you visiting my bed every other night. It is not as if we need to feed that much, and even if I wanted to, you are not my heartmate. We can’t produce a child for your father, so it is hardly necessary. I’ll find another way tonight,” she whispered firmly.

He released her but turned fully toward her, towering, eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you tire of me, my darling?”

Imani hated how those words hurt her chest and how uncertain she sounded as she answered breathlessly. “Yes.”

The hard length of his cock settled against her waist. Then his voice lowered to a low rumble, and it was as if he were confessing a sin. “You are a pretty liar, but a liar, nonetheless.”

“I can wait⁠—”

“I can’t,” he said. He grabbed her hair in his fist then slammed her down until she hit the floor. Bruises would cover her knees.

“Suck it,” he ground out.

She narrowed her eyes at him. His arrogance was absolutely outrageous—borderline insulting.

She undid his pants and reached inside without hesitation, grabbing his long length. Pulling the tip into her mouth, she swirled her tongue around it then tugged gently from the bottom. A low guttural growl sounded from his throat, and she did it again, falling into a rhythm.

He liked this, and Imani liked sucking him, too. She liked the low sounds of pleasure from his throat, his dark head tipped back as he thrust his hips against her face. He threaded a hand through her hair, caressing at first, then pushing her forward until he hit the back of her throat. She could feel he was close, and then he pulled out with a maniacal smirk on his face.

Imani didn’t let him recover. She stood and helped him take his shirt off, which only made him smile wider.

This time, when he reached out for her, their blood-binding mark buzzed with pleasure, and her knees threatened to buckle. He wrapped his arm around her chest as he forced her back to press against him with her hands braced on the wall.

He stroked a hand up her back, thrust his fingers into her hair, and tilted her head back. Slowly, he slipped inside her, and as he filled her, her mind went blank for a moment. She shifted her hips against him as Kiran began moving inside her. He kissed her deeply.

Imani let him, breathing in his beautiful scent. Something always felt right when they were together, like it was meant to be, a temporary star gleaming in the darkness.

All his strange bindings with unnamed peoples somehow seemed part of it, belonging to his skin like the small details on a distant horizon. So beautiful, Imani thought. Too beautiful.

He pulled away, Imani’s lips still open, tingling and yearning for him to return. She turned around and ran her hand through his thick, silky hair. She marveled that she could touch him this way, every way, as he lifted her up and pushed inside her.

He held them close while he moved, their noses almost touching as he stared down at her.

Those dark hues shifted through his eyes—dusky purples, inky blacks. Imani wasn’t sure who stared down at her, because here was a man with gentle eyes and a soft expression, who longed for a connection he could not give anyone.

And with that thought, she kept her eyes closed. This moment wouldn’t last forever, and she didn’t want the reminder of what she would eventually lose.

“Imani, look at me,” he whispered.

It was too much. She shook her head.

He rubbed his nose down her neck as he moved slowly inside her. “I want to see you, my beautiful darling. See what’s mine,” he murmured.

Imani clenched her jaw against the whimper of pleasure, clutching the bedspread. Saints, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet. Even if it killed her.

But eventually, she found her eyes lifting to meet him.

He looked so damned handsome, the lantern light playing over the bare planes of his body. Seeing, as always, more than Imani wished he did. Seeing, as always, her.

His face was such a perfect mask of deadly beauty that it stunned her.

“There you are, my lovely little elf.” He smiled and kissed her, still moving slowly, killing her with how good and slow he was.

She let out a soft whimper.