Snow Queen's Mortal Lover
Alana Church
Editorial: _Boruma Publishing, LLC
Sinopsis
A pathetic drunk, exiled and disgraced, Karl Grayson had nothing left to live for. But when an immortal makes him an offer, can the former knight reclaim his honor? Mab is the Queen of the Winter Fae, and her offer comes with a price. Karl will have to serve her in every way, including the bedchamber! ~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~ By the time she was done, he almost felt human, rather than something the cat had hawked up. He stood, swaying only slightly, as Kitaen fetched him a towel. “Oh.” Her voice was distant. “Oh, what?” Kitaen swallowed, the thick white towel held loosely in one hand. “I had not realized,” she whispered, staring at his middle. “Are all mortals…so large?” Karl stared at Kitaen, then blushed as her words hit home. To his utter mortification, he began to stiffen and swell under her avaricious gaze. He tried to cover himself with his hands, but it was little use. “Your gods have blessed you, Sir Karl.” Very slowly, Kitaen walked forward. Somehow, as she had helped him bathe, her shift had grown damp, almost transparent. It clung to the ripe mounds of her breasts. The tips were stiff with desire, tenting the thin cloth. And lower, he could just make out the dark, shadowed place between her legs. He took a step forward, then two more, until their bodies were almost touching. “You can take me, Sir Karl,” Kitaen whispered. He could almost feel the heat, rolling off her body. She swayed forward, until the tips of her breasts were almost grazing his chest. He ached to cup them, to feel their warm heft in his palms. “I won’t fight you. I won’t even scream.” His hand rose. Kitaen’s mouth opened, her tongue licking her lips. Karl never knew what saved him. Maybe it was the tiny, anticipatory glitter in Kitaen’s sky-blue eyes. The hint of hunger that had nothing to do with the desires of the flesh. Or perhaps the tenseness of her body. Not fear. But the coiled muscles of a predator before she leaped. But he closed his eyes, pummeling his wine-addled memory. If you try to take anything that is not yours, be it the merest trinket, then the last thing you see before I freeze your eyeballs solid will be your entrails lying at your feet. You can take me. I won’t even scream. Take. Take. Take. “No.” Turning away was the most difficult thing he had ever done. But somehow he showed her his back, gulping in deep breaths of air. “No. I have never taken a woman unwilling. Nor will I. And Mab has already informed me of her disapproval of…thieves.” There was a faint snort. Perhaps approval. Perhaps disappointment. “So. You are clever. The queen chose well,” Kitaen said. “This time.”
Disponible desde: 24/05/2024.
Longitud de impresión: 24 páginas.
