He glances toward me, most of his face hidden in shadow. I try to keep my distance, I really do, but my body rebels against me in the worst way.
Guess that’s the nature of being mated to someone. There’s no controlling it. Just a twisted, insidious instinct that takes over every cell in your body.
The closer I get, the more I see that he is, in fact, trembling. “I’m serious. What’s wrong?” I ask again, fighting the urge to reach out to him.
“Ismini . . .”
I was told that immortals like him can’t get sick. But at this particular moment, I’m doubting that with every fiber of my being, and the mere thought of something happening to him makes me want to die.
I’m not being melodramatic, either. The God of Medicine explained that if Dyletri does somehow die, I’m going with him, no matter what.
A mated being can’t live without their mate, plain and simple.
“Please. Please tell me what’s wrong.” I continue to advance, not even realizing how odd it is that he’s walking backward.
That he seems to be fleeing from me.
Dyletri’s back meets the end of the balcony, where the wall is. “I need you to stay back,” he says, his tone menacing.
I can’t see his face. But I still see those tremors. I couldn’t walk away now even if I wanted to.
Dyletri shakes his head and inches away from me. “No. I need you to stay away. I’m serious, Ismini. Don’t come any closer.”
His energy throbs through the air around me, hypnotizing and drawing me closer. It happens every time I’m near him; the effect that these immortals—these gods—have on us mortals.
An irresistible effect.
And that was even before I unwillingly mated to him.
“There’s something wrong with you. You’ve been looking sick for days. ” Please, just tell me you’re okay. I’ll force myself to leave somehow . . . just say you’re all right. I stop in front of him. Past the point of rational thought, I raise my hand and place it on his shoulder.
Instantly, the world around me blurs.
I hear air rushing by.
My front is pressed against a wall. The same wall Dyletri was just standing in front of.
He flipped me around using that mind-breaking, supernatural speed of his.
A large hand palms the back of my neck.
I gasp, the sound echoing into the night.
A massive body pushes into me from behind, a hard ridge sliding up and down the crack of my ass.
I jerk, small gasps leaving me repeatedly.
An animal is at my back, all snarls and rotating hips and a deliciously hard cock.
Dyletri pulls back and suddenly my pants are tugged down, baring my ass to the air.
“I-I . . . Oh God, I’m going to come.”
“Fuck yes, you are,” a demon’s voice answers behind me.
He comes close again and—
A wet, soft yet hard object slides over my ass cheek.
Another demonic sound echoes around us.
It’s his dick. He’s fisting it, rubbing it across my ass.
“This cock wants you so bad, little one.”
I choke on his name as I start to come.
He falls on me from behind, thrusting almost frantically against my ass. His hand pushes into my pants. His fingers slide along my wet, pulsating pussy.
I scream out his name, hips churning.
“That’s it. Perfect. Wet. This cunt is going to feel so good milking my cock. Fuck little one, you’re making me come. It’s been so long since I felt anything like this. Take this dick. Own it.”
I want to; I’ll give anything to have it.
Even the life that he callously deemed as forfeit.
Dyletri licks my ear and moves down to tongue my jaw. His fist slams into the wall next to my head, cracking it.
His body tenses, as if he’s fighting not to move.
His roar is so loud it almost frightens me.
His dick jerks on my ass, hot liquid splashing all over my skin.
His cum.
I start coming on his fingers all over again, my pussy hungry for every single drop.
He removes his hand from my pussy. I hear him licking his fingers behind me, a sexy hum vibrating in his throat.
“Fucking perfect. I can’t wait to eat your pussy all up.”
Jesus . . . Fucking . . . Christ.
Dyletri leans closer, his face nuzzling my hair.
I’m barely holding on to my sanity. “Dyletri.”
He punches the wall again, making me jump. Out of the corner of my eye, I see even more cracks spreading out from where his fingers are.
And light. More than I’ve ever seen coming out of him. Every individual vein on the back of his hand is glowing.
Dyletri murmurs my name in a reverent tone. “Ismini . . .”
I hear the stone beside my head crack some more. Hear the stone railing to my left fracturing as well. “Ismini . . . stop me. Tell me to stop.”
“No,” I whisper. “I don’t want to.”