Bad Fae | romantasy | Bad Fae #1

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I blinked in surprise. And some fear. Had he seen my greatest fear all along after all?

"You think I didn't know your plan?" His voice was a dark whisper, caressing the edges of those places just outside my peripheral, making the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. "What you wanted to do to me the moment you first saw my face in the Darkrealm?"

He made it sound sexual and delicious. I didn't doubt he thought of cold-blooded murder the exact same way he thought about sex. I didn't doubt he got the same satisfaction from both endeavours.

"Yet you saved me all the same," I retorted hotly; defiant arrogance to the last.

Victory shone in his eyes; a crooked, cheeky humour as likely to kill as laugh. "Yet I saved you all the same."

"Why?" I asked.

We were locked in this farce of an embrace, my blade inches from his chest, our noses almost brushing. One would have called it romantic if not for the murderous intent shining in both our hearts. Though, I supposed a moment could be two things.

"Because you amuse me, Milesian," he purred. "You thought you hid your heart? You thought a creature like me, so tied to the darkness that creeps through this world – the darkness that creeps through you – wouldn't see it, smell it, want it..." He dropped his voice into a caress, "need it."

Want spread through me like wildfire and my heart jolted out of its steady rhythm for a split-second. But Dain had always had that effect on me whenever he turned his eye to me. When he even just hinted that I might affect him as much as he affected me. I stamped it down.

Gently, ever so gently, he extricated the knife from my fingers.

"I think we might keep the toys out of the little human's reach for now, eh?"

I glared at him, and his chuckle was aggravating.

He swore in his tongue, reverent and amazed, and his eyes shone as he looked down at me. "Do you know how much I want you right now?"

Despite myself – and the time we'd spent in bed together the night before – unrelenting need clattered through me, filled me up until there was nothing but craven desire for him.

"I just tried to kill you," I pointed out, hoping he didn't notice how much more shallow my breath had just become.

But he grinned. The fae bastard grinned at me. He ran his hands over my hair, brushing it away from my face, as his eyes drilled into mine.

"And I have never wanted anything more."

I blinked, then was thankful – though not out loud, obviously – that he seemed to realise an explanation was in order. As he explained, he picked me up, tenderly, and took me back to the bed.

"I want your fire, Yana. I want your passion. I want you to fight for your convictions. Without them, we are nothing, merely following on from another's whim."

He lay me down, slowly and gently, and positioned himself between my legs. They parted as though welcoming him home.

"Try to kill me, if that's what you want," he continued as he slid into me. "If you succeed, you deserve it. But never, never relinquish that passion."

He punctuated every word with a powerful thrust, his face nuzzling mine, but it was different this time. No less satisfying, but very much less destructive. He was domineering and no more keen to willingly relinquish his control but... But there was something almost tender, reverent about it. About us.

I'd just tried to kill him but, if I didn't know how deep our mutual hatred ran, I'd have said that we made love that morning.

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