The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(54)

Not bad pain, no. The good kind that left you weak, left you gasping and panting and sobbing, but that also made you glow, made you feel alive and powerful.

But only a nymph could handle that level of intimacy with a satyr. I would frighten Ty with the ferocity of my desires. So I clamped down on my back teeth and sat perfectly still, letting her do to me whatever she willed.

“I... I do too, álogo.”

She smirked, and I should have known what she was about to do, but the moment her tiny hands grabbed hold of my horns, a powerful shudder ripped through me, punching me through the gut, making me jerk and cry out with desperate need.

I shoved my fingers into the dirt, clinging tight to the roots of grass, telling myself not to unleash on her. Not with her.

I would figure out some way to cage my needs and still keep myself and my álogo satisfied. But even as I thought it, the heat continued to gather and build deep within me. The need to sing through my horns gripped me with punishing force, causing me to break out in a wash of sweat. My muscles were rigid, tense.

She paused, frowning at me as she leaned back. “Petra? Have I hurt you?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Gods, no. But I couldn’t speak. I was terrified that if I moved even an inch, I would give in to the mating call and take her in a way she would not enjoy, would not want.

The thought of ever hurting my beloved sent cold chills down my body.

I shook my head.

The glide of her fingertips on my lightly-bearded cheek created a maelstrom of emotions within me. I bit my tongue hard, hoping the pain would help dull the sex magic curling like a ball of white-hot flame through me, demanding to be released, demanding I let it go.

Making love to Tymanon was the single best thing I’d ever done in my life, and so far, I’d managed to keep things tender and sweet. But I’d been so long without her touch that I was a hair trigger away from complete and total lack of control.

“Your eyes burn like fire.” She cocked her head even as her fingers continued to sweep up and down my cheek.

I gasped. I couldn’t do this tonight. I wouldn’t be able to control myself, not with her. I would take care of myself. Release just enough of the energy so that I could touch her without fear of harming her.

“I... I... Tymanon, you must get off my lap now,” I said, voice guttural and harsher than I’d intended.

She blinked before looking down at my cock, then back up at my face, and nodded. “I believe I know what this is, Petra.”

My nostrils flared, and I curled my fingers even harder into the stiff, unyielding, stony dirt. My skin felt on fire. The ball of magic trapped inside of me had grown so that I felt consumed by it, ready to scream out in agony from holding it all in.

“I read about this in my books.” She smiled, and despite my pain, I managed to grunt out a passable chuckle.

“I’m sure.”

“No. I have. This is your sex magic. This is what a satyr truly is, am I right?” She peered at me from beneath her lashes, looking all lovely and soft and frustratingly wise.

I grunted.

“If you unleash this magic upon me, Petra, what will happen?”

She’d stopped curling her fingers through my hair, but still she sat on me, tempting me with her slick heat, making my head dizzy with thoughts of her and I twined together, crying out as we reached our peak as one.

Forcing myself to breathe, I focused just long enough to answer her question. “It’s a type of madness that overcomes my kind, passion that can sometimes border on pain.”

She frowned, and my heart twisted violently.

“And the nymphs... they like this violence?”

I opened my mouth, snapped it shut, opened it again. But words had completely left me. What was I supposed to say to that? Yes. They loved it, begged for it, sometimes even cried for it.

It sounded terrible, dark and foreboding. But in truth, it was anything but that. It was consensual, a giving and a taking that both our kinds needed.

“Tymanon, you are not built for this. I do not wish to hurt you. I only want you to be fulfilled, satisfied.”

She thinned her lips. “But you need this, do you not?”

My nostrils flared. “No. No. I... I don’t.”

“You lie.” She glowered at me. “I can satisfy you just as well as your nymphs.”

I shook my head. “You do, my heart. You do. I love what we do. It is perfect for me. You are perfect for me.”

Amber eyes thinned to fine slits. Before I even knew what she was about, her hands snaked out and her fingers latched onto my nipples. Without warning, she twisted violently.

It caused me to cry out, to bow into her touch, to shudder from a brilliant burst of pain followed closely by a trembling shudder of pleasure.

“Don’t... don’t,” I grunted, even as my body moved toward her of its own volition, begging silently for more. “You don’t know—”

“Oh, but I do. I do know, and I want this. I want you. You think satyrs are the only ones in all of Kingdom to mate violently? You think a centaur doesn’t grab hold of my flesh with his large teeth and bite down to the point of drawing blood?”

I gasped, my cock starting to leak as I envisioned myself doing just that to her, envisioned myself hearing her scream and cry out for me as she begged for more and more.

She smirked. “I may never have enjoyed that violent form of mating before, Petra, but I suddenly find myself intensely curious about the prospect of doing it with you. Smack my arse.”