“Of course, My Lord,” they said in unison, bowing.
The door remained opened as they left, giving me a false s
ense of security that soon dissipated beneath the boots of Necros’s approach. “You’re pathetic,” he spat. “It’s been a week, and you’re still recovering?”
“I-I’m sorry,” I spluttered, making a show of forcing myself onto my knees.
He grunted. “I thought Adrik was training you. But all you’ve been doing is sleeping. What a fucking waste.”
Shit. I couldn’t let him blame Adrik for my behavior—something that was Necros’s fault more than anyone else’s. But he would never see it that way. He’d accuse Adrik of not upholding his side of the bargain, may even force him to leave. That can’t happen.
“Please, Necros. Please. I’m trying. I… I…” I grabbed his belt to keep him from stepping away, not knowing another way to make him hear me. “I’m l-learning. I-I promise.” I slid the leather through the buckle, hating myself for what I had to do.
No, I hated Necros.
He put me in this position.
He made me do these things.
But knowing that gave me power, put me back in charge. It gave me a way to manipulate him, to beat him at his own game.
And I saw it now, felt it in the way he froze, mystified by my show of submission before him. His hands hung loose at his sides, his cock growing beneath the zipper I pulled down.
“Can I please you, My Lord?” I asked, peeking up at him through my mess of curls. “I-I want to please you.” Wrong. I wanted to bite him and flay him alive with my angelfire, but Adrik was right. I wasn’t ready yet. We needed to lull Necros into a state of comfort. Make him think he’d won and broken my resolve. Then hit him at the height of his arrogance, when he felt the most confident in his superiority.
It would make his fall all the better.
I didn’t wait for his permission, taking his member into my mouth and sucking him deep, the way I knew he preferred. That he hadn’t touched me yet denoted his shock at my willingness, the act one I’d initiated rather than him.
It gave me power over him.
Put me on top.
Made this my act to command.
I held his green gaze and imagined they were ebony, dark, the picture of midnight. Adrik, I thought, forcing his image into my mind, and pretended this was him. My prince.
The fingers combing through my tangled hair didn’t belong to Necros.
The groan of appreciation didn’t come from my husband.
And the tug against my scalp as the fingers turned into a fist, guiding my motions, wasn’t that of a king.
But my prince.
My Adrik.
The taste was wrong. The size, too. Yet, I lost myself to the fantasy, allowed myself to feel hunger, pretending this was the man I preferred. We did this only last night, Adrik coming down my throat while I straddled his face. A new experience, one underlined in rapture. These feelings and sensations were dangerous, the way I was able to picture him so perfectly now, while in the grasp of another, an indication of how deep I’d fallen.
I expected regret.
Waited for a hint of annoyance.
Except all I felt was utter bliss.
“Yes,” Necros groaned, his voice not deep enough, not sexy enough, to be my Adrik. So I listened for his words instead, recalling them from last night, how he’d cursed and growled my name. How his entire body was lined in tension as he forced himself not to take command.
It had to be killing him to allow me complete control.