A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(98)

I don’t imagine I’d enjoy bondage much, either. So why is a place deep in my belly heating with something that feels suspiciously like interest?

Flushing, I clear my throat. “Then what do you enjoy? Apparently, Daphne knows.”

Griffin’s eyes glitter. “Jealous?”

“No!” I scoff.

He grins. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re delirious. From blood loss.”

He squeezes my hand. “You have no reason to be jealous. I haven’t touched her since the day I saw you—which was well before you saw me.”

I feel my face flame. I have no idea why. If Griffin notices my awkwardness, he keeps it to himself. He unbuckles my belt one-handed, slips it from around my waist, and then circles our wrists with it, binding them closer together. The cuts are deep enough to bleed for a while, but not deep enough to be dangerous. They’ll probably leave scars.

“As for what I enjoy…” Griffin leans close to finally answer, his scruffy jaw tickling my neck. “We could always give spanking a try.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “I take it spanking is a metaphor again?”

“Maybe.” He winks. “Maybe not.”

Now I’m imagining both possibilities. Possibly both at once…

His teeth graze my earlobe, and I make a noise that sounds suspiciously like a yelp.

“Why so jumpy?” His lips press into my neck. He sucks gently on the sensitive skin below my ear before kissing the same spot.

My senses reel. Each brush of his lips is like a sip of decadent wine, turning me dizzy and light. “I’m…ah…not very experienced with all this.”

He keeps nuzzling my neck, kindling a steady blaze low in my abdomen. “Ours clearly wasn’t your first kiss.”

I tilt my head to give him better access. Griffin’s rumbling sound of approval vibrates against my throat. His splayed fingers feel like a brand on my hip. He squeezes, wringing a soft moan from me.

“Everyone kisses,” I say breathlessly. “It’s the rest I’m less sure about.”

He abruptly straightens, looking agreeably surprised. “Never?”

I shake my head, my stomach flip-flopping.

His lips curve in an utterly male, utterly smug, utterly possessive smile. “I’ll teach you.”

My whole body clenches in anticipation. Gods, yes!

No!

I panic and smack his chest with my unbound hand, grimacing at the ridiculously flirtatious tap. A month ago, I would have hit him hard—or at least tried to.

Griffin wraps his free hand around the back of my head and pulls me toward him for a scorching kiss. Our lips fuse, hotter than blood, and I forget all about ever wanting to hit him. Or kick him. Or even argue with him.

I’m such an idiot.

He fists his hand in my loose hair and tilts my head back until my back bows and my breasts press against his chest. Between fierce, deep kisses, he rasps, “If you had died…” He slowly shakes his head, his hot breath ragged on my fevered lips. The muscles in his shoulders tense, and a shudder runs through him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

I draw back, stunned by the raw vulnerability in his voice. “I didn’t think anything rattled you.”

He skims the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. My mouth tingles, almost too sensitive to be touched. “Not much does. Everything is different with you. I can’t lose you.”

His words douse the passion blazing inside me. I lower my eyes and turn away from him. What in the Underworld am I doing?

Griffin unbinds our wrists and reopens the cuts before strapping us back together again. I watch the red seep out and blend, wondering whose blood is tainting whose. I’m sure Mother would have an opinion about that.

I press our wrists tighter.

The more our blood mixes, the stronger I get. Griffin insists I eat, and he’s almost comically happy when I swallow a few bites. My small appetite must inspire him because he forces bread and cheese on me until I nearly throw it all back up.

Raising his hands in surrender, he packs up the food. Efficient as usual, he unties us again, cleans and binds the cuts, and then dilutes any stray blood before lighting an oil lamp and putting out the campfire. He leads me back into the tent, closes the heavy flap, and then sits with his back against a sturdy wooden trunk. Setting the lamp aside, he looks at me intently. After a moment, he holds out his arm in invitation, and I go to him, hardly hesitating at all.

Once I’m settled, Griffin turns to me with a wolfish grin. “Do you think we’ll need to exchange fluids every day?”

My eyes widen. Yes! “No!”

Oh my Gods! I’m going insane!

I clear my throat. “No. Uh…no.”

“Funny,” he says blandly. “I was hoping the opposite.”

I shove him. “I’ll bet you were.”

He grins. “Still am.”

Tucked up against him, I’m hotter than Hades, and my stomach is doing all kinds of somersaults. It’s uncomfortable. And annoying. And exciting. “Men are strange. How can you go from fighting with me all the time to this?”

He looks at me with a mixture of indulgence and smugness that makes me want to sink my teeth into him somewhere that hurts. “You’re the one who’s always picking fights. Once I claim you, you’ll see that fighting isn’t the fun part.”