The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(78)

“Alexander?” Meagan’s throat was raw.

Alexander opened his eyes, blue fury blazing from him. “Damnation.”

He said the word in Nvengarian, but Meagan had heard it enough from his servants to understand it.

“Damnation,” Alexander repeated in English, sweat beading on his forehead. “Not now. Not now.”

“Please,” Meagan whispered.

She moved her hips against his, needing the wild friction inside her. Alexander’s hands on her wrists were like iron, pinning her while he rode her.

His face held anything but pleasure. It was granite hard, as though he struggled to force himself back into the persona of the Grand Duke.

“No,” Meagan begged. “Stay here with me. Be Alexander.”

Alexander continued riding her, mouth set in a grim line, holding Meagan so firmly she could not move. Candlelight gleamed on his body, muscles flowing with his strength.

He was losing control, she could see that, and fighting hard to retain it. Meagan’s leg ached where he bent it against her, held in place by his body, and her wrists burned like fire. But it wasn’t pain—it was excitement, and Meagan wanted to let him do anything he wanted.

She writhed beneath him, wanting him deeper and deeper inside her. The delicious feeling was pulling her apart.

“Yes, love,” she cried. “Please.”

Alexander met her cries with a deep snarl, then he kissed her, hard, his teeth closing on her lip.

All at once, Alexander withdrew from her, taking his wonderful heat away. He rolled to sit on the side of the bed, shaking, his breathing hoarse. He closed his arms around his body and held on, every muscle tight.

Meagan rose weakly on her elbows, feeling both spent and heavenly. She put her hand on his arm and found his skin fever-hot.

“It is you,” Alexander said, his voice harsh. “I cannot control it with you.”

Hurt pricked Meagan’s heart. “Then do not control it.”

When Alexander finally looked at her the bleakness in his eyes cut at her. “Do not control myself?” He lifted her hand and showed her the faint bruises on her wrist. “Did you enjoy this? Do you want more?”

Meagan shrugged. “It did not hurt me.”

“No? What if I did worse?” Alexander shoved her hand away. “Would you still look at me with love in your eyes?”

Meagan lightly touched his arm again. “You are a gentle man.”

“I am not gentle,” he said fiercely. “I do not know what I am. I am this beast, this logosh. I thought … I was so proud, thinking I’d learned to control it, believing that being logosh will make me more powerful than ever.” Alexander balled his fists. “That is all I want, Meagan. Power over everyone so no one can hurt me.”

“You are already the second most powerful man in Nvengaria,” Meagan pointed out. “Believe me, I am constantly reminded by everyone I see.”

“It is a sham. It is false.” Alexander pressed his fist to his chest, shadowed muscles hard. “That is me making others believe I am ruthless, to keep them at a distance. I pretended to be ice cold when I told the old Imperial Prince to give me control of the kingdom, but all I wanted to do that day was plunge a knife through his rotten heart. I wanted to peel his skin from his body for taking my father and my real life away from me.”

“But you have your life now. The old prince is dead and gone.” Meagan closed her fingers around Alexander’s tight hands, distressed that she did not know how to comfort him. “You have me and Alex. You and Damien are friends again, and Nvengaria is at peace. You can live now. Starting right this minute.”

Meagan knew she babbled platitudes, but the look in his eyes dismayed her.

Alexander regarded her in anger, then he laughed, though his expression changed little. “You are an amazing woman, Meagan Tavistock. You should be terrified of me, and instead you pat my hand and say It is all right. Everything will be fine.”

Meagan continued to caress him. “I cannot bring myself to be afraid of you. I’ve seen your kindness.”

Alexander cupped her face, his fingers gentle. “Sorcery has touched your brain, I think. Without the love spell, you’d be shaking in your shoes to be near me.”

Meagan gave him an incredulous look. “Good heavens, Alexander, I’ve seen the way other women look at you, and believe me, it is not in fear. The Duchess of Gower in particular cannot keep her eyes off you. Look at the lengths to which Deirdre was willing to go to trick you into her bed. They certainly hate me for having the gall to marry you.”

Alexander shook his head. “But it is fear, Meagan. It’s part of why women want to be with me. To feel the danger, and the fear.”

“That seems rather silly.” Meagan had to admit that the power of Alexander, his strength tamed for her, was incredibly exciting, but she did not want him to believe her to be anything like Deirdre Braithwaite. “I’d rather be laughing with you than shaking in my shoes. Besides, my shoes are all the way over there.” She pointed.

Alexander covered his face with one hand, as though trying to contain something—laughter, rage? She didn’t know. “Damn you, Meagan, for being so adorable.”

Boldly Meagan slid her hand down his abdomen, feeling tight muscle beneath smooth skin. Even more boldly, she let her fingers trace the place below his navel to find his hardness, still hot and stiff.