Wicked Love | ✓ (#featured)

⁶ | m e l l i f l u o u s

(adj.) a sound that is sweet and smooth, pleasing to hear.

Zane had not expected it, but it happened. He had never felt a desire so thick it threatened to choke him if he did not let it out, and it had only been partially diminished as they walked in silence to his haven.

Touching and teasing her would bring out her lustful nature, he knew, but he did not expect that it would bring out his own so quickly. It was not so much as feeling her body in his hands – there had been many times in his lifetime that he had held female elves – but it was something else about her.

Her gasps and moans stroke fire inside him. Her quivering and her heat stiffened him. Her resolve drove him to insanity in his demand to dominate her. His control when he held her in the lake had been threadbare and pulling away from her was a herculean effort. But he managed it. Barely. He did not know what it was, but something about the princess of Gwahan made him want to take her and – the gods be damned – make her cry out his name over and over until his strength failed him.

By the gods, he did not only want to possess her body and fuck her senseless, he wanted to possess her mind and soul! But no. Fucking would not do it with her, unlike the others. He wanted more. So much more. That much he thought when he finished himself at the far edge of the lake, her scent on her clothes adding to his need to quickly reach the edge before she could find him.

He wanted to open up his senses. To see and smell her more acutely as she matched him stride for stride, but he fought the temptation. To do that would be to push himself dangerously close to raping her. He should hold himself back. She was not yet willing and her current resistance was real, not yet a façade. If he forced to satiate his desires on her, she would resist at the last moment leaving him to decide whether to deny himself or rape her.

No. It was not yet the time.

He stopped as he entered his room. The thoughts that ruled his mind were so human. They were wild abandon and recklessness that defied an elf's distinct sense of control. It was a piece of insight into the human mind, but he did not yet know how to make use of it.

He watched her as she scanned the room. The dress was not enough to hide her curvaceous form, though the peaks on her chest were not easy to find through the crimps that the seamstress formed into the dress. Her bare thighs were elegant and looked like a combination of softness and firmness at the right places. Soon, he would find out if he was right about them.

"Well?" she asked, thankfully shaking him from dangerous thoughts, "Where do I sleep?"

"On the bed," he responded nonchalantly.

"And where do you sleep?"

"On the bed."

Her eyes went wide – cutely so, he might add – and her mouth worked before she could say, "That is very improper! And the bed can barely hold two!"