I know now I make him feral with need. And that is power. But I don’t mistake it for less than absolute danger.
Daxeel comes, long and smooth and tender. He moans in my ear. A kiss he grazes there then words he strains out with a breathy sound, “You will never have this with me.”
He shatters it with that. And my face twists with a cry as I finish with him, and he laughs against my ear. I climax and weep.
The shudders haven’t even stopped assaulting my legs as he pulls out of me. He wipes himself on my inner thigh and says, “Daffodil is a fitting name for you. Disarming in appearance, pretty, but a little-known poison as vicious as any other.”
He steals the kiss away from me.
With a step back, the warmth is gone.
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Quinn Blackbird 