|
An Excerpt From: RITUALS OF PASSION
Copyright © LACEY
ALEXANDER, 2005.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
He didn’t bother knocking when he reached her door,
simply pushed it open and strode inside. She flinched at his entry, yanking
a white cloth from her cleavage as her face turned a lovely shade of pink.
Clearly, he’d caught her freshening up after the journey, and though it
conflicted with his intent, he couldn’t be sorry to have caught her
unawares and leave her a bit off balance.
“I need to speak with you,” he said.
That quickly, her eyes took on the same steely quality
he’d seen during their last and only other conversation. “Speak then.”
He took a deep breath, reminding himself this discussion
was to be about peace. He sat down on her large trunk, now situated at the
foot of the bed upon which she rested. “Maven, I’ll speak plainly. Despite
the stories you may have heard, I’m not an unreasonable man. I wish to have
an agreeable marriage and I would ask that you give that idea a chance.”
A hint of uncertainty, maybe even consideration, passed
briefly through her eyes, but then her back went rigid, her voice cold.
“You’re marrying me only as a stepping stone to the throne of Caralon.”
“True enough. But nothing says I can’t enjoy my stepping
stone and she me.”
“I don’t take pleasure in being used.”
That stood to reason, yet… “You’re a ruler’s
daughter—you have no choice in the matter.”
“Having no choice makes me no less offended, and I
detest you for expecting me to coo and fawn over you like all of those
within your employ.”
For some reason, her words incensed him—and challenged
him. Or was it just her manner, the very idea that she continued to be so
unyielding, even when he’d attempted to be kind and open with her? Combined
with the aching cock barely contained in his pants, her attitude caused his
ire to chisel itself into a sharp point. He narrowed his eyes, aware his
blood was boiling with anger…and lust. “You will,” he said calmly, firmly.
“In fact, you will do more than coo and fawn.”
“I find you repulsive.”
“You will beg,” he informed her with deep, unerring
confidence. “You will beg for my touches. You will beg for my cock.”
“Never!” she spat.
“Never is a long time, bride.”
“Never is when I will want you.”
“We’ll see,” he said, then rose and exited the room, slamming
the door shut behind him.
CLOSE WINDOW
|