Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Lucy remembered now that he had offered to let her bite him before, on the trip over here. Was this truly part of his culture or was he just putting on a show for Mistress Shin’dara? And would the cruel Twainer accept his alternative?
“Well…” Shin’dara put down the branding iron she’d been holding and looked at the big Monstrum thoughtfully. “I suppose if the marks are painful and permanent, that would be an acceptable solution.”
Lucy swallowed.
“I’m not going to take a chunk out of him, if that’s what you’re hoping,” she said.
“Just leave a permanent mark,” Mistress Shin’dara snapped. “That will be almost as good as a brand.”
“Um, well…” Lucy looked up at the big Monstrum uncertainly. It seemed that the evil Twainer would accept this substitution. The question was, could she do it? She didn’t want to cause T’zaren pain. But then again, he had told her that his people considered it an honor for a male to accept pain for the sake of his chosen female. So maybe it would be all right in this case.
“Well?” Shin’dara demanded, glaring at her.
Abruptly, Lucy made a decision.
“T’zaren, come here.” She scooted to the edge of her chair and pointed to the space between her spread legs. “Sit here, between my legs and bare your neck for me,” she ordered him.
“As my S’rentha wishes,” T’zaren rumbled and settled himself smoothly on the black marble floor between her spread thighs. He put his back to her and then leaned his head to one side, baring the strong, corded column of his throat for her.
Lucy bent down, glad that the curtain of her hair hid her face from view.
“Are you sure you’re all right with this?” she breathed in his ear, even as she made a show of caressing his broad, bare shoulders. “You don’t mind letting me bite you?”
T’zaren turned his head slightly so he could look into her eyes.
“I fucking want you to bite me,” he growled softly. “Do it, Lucille. Mark me as your own.”
His words, spoken in that deep, growling voice, sent an abrupt shiver of desire through her and Lucy was startled to feel a jolt of lust between her legs. Damn, why was him offering his neck to her so sexy?
It’s not just his neck—it’s his submission, she thought. The big Monstrum was big enough and strong enough to break her in two with one hand but he was offering himself to her in a way no other man ever had.
Wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, she began to lick the side of his throat—long, slow strokes of her tongue to get him ready for her bite. His spicy, masculine scent filled her senses and the taste of his skin was salty and delicious. She could see the pulse in his throat jumping rapidly and his breathing was becoming erratic.
“Get ready,” she breathed in his ear. “Because I’m going to mark you, T’zaren. Mark you as mine.”
“Yes, my S’rentha,” he murmured. “Mark me—I submit to your bite.”
Feeling surprisingly turned on, Lucy sank her teeth into the side of his throat—just where his neck met his broad right shoulder. She bit down hard and T’zaren groaned.
But the sound wasn’t one of pain—or rather, it wasn’t all pain. She definitely heard pleasure and desire mixed up in his low vocalization and he never tried to get away from her punishing grip on him. On the contrary, he leaned into it, offering himself even more completely.
“Bite me hard, my S’rentha,” he growled. “Don’t hold back!”
Lucy did as he asked, biting even harder. She didn’t know why this act of submission on the big Monstrum’s part turned her on so much, but she was getting incredibly wet between her thighs when she finally released her grip on him. She sat back a little, panting, and looked down at what she’d done.
She had bitten T’zaren as hard as she could and she half expected to see blood welling on his neck. Instead, she saw a set of bright silver bite-marks—her bite-marks, she realized. They showed up perfectly against his deep blue skin, glimmering in the light almost like a piece of jewelry.
“Ah, Gods…” T’zaren growled softly. He put a hand up to touch the side of his neck where she had bitten him, tracing the silver markings made by her teeth with one blunt fingertip. “It’s still there, isn’t it?” he asked, turning his head to look up at Lucy. “It’s not fading?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “No, it…it’s not. In fact, it shows up silver against your skin.”
“The mark of a true S’rentha,” he murmured. “I knew it was so. I should have known from the moment you made my Sen Stripe flare, but I couldn’t let myself believe it.”
“Will it really leave a permanent mark?” Lucy asked, rather anxiously.
“It will.” He looked up at her again. “Just as you have left a permanent mark on my heart, Lucille.”