Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

between hers, spreading her thighs to make room for his own. “Please, Angela. I need you.”
    His please did her in. Made her blink back the hot burn of tears. The rat-bastard hadn’t asked. He’d taken: forced and hurt and brutalized. But Rikar wasn’t like him. His hands were gentle, and his voice pleading. Asking her permission. Giving her the choice to draw him in or push him away.
    Myst’s voice came back to her… I like feeding Bastian. A lot .
    And just like that, the last of the fear vanished. Rikar needed her. She would provide for him. End of story.
    With a welcoming murmur, Angela pressed her cheek to his. He burrowed into her embrace, nestling in as he set his mouth against her temple. Bliss swirled, reaching deep, rising hard, flowing fast in the face of desire. She slid her hands over his shoulders, exploring his strength before cupping the nape of his neck. God, his hair was soft. Short, yes, but unbelievably thick. And as she marveled at the feel of him, allowing her fingers to play, his teeth grazed the pulse pounding beneath her skin, making her gasp as she did as he asked and invited him in.
    His breath hitched.
    She pulled him closer. “It’s all right, Rikar. Take what you need.”
    “My beautiful female.” He kissed her softly, an ache in his voice as he whispered, “Forgive me for my greed.”
    But as he hugged her close and drank deep, Angela knew there was nothing to forgive. He was what he was . She possessed what he needed. No changing that fact. No going back, either.

     
    A delicious scent all around him, Rikar woke up riding a wave of glory-glory-hallelujah. With a hum, he opened his eyes and blinked, getting nothing but blur. He let his lids drift closed again. Shit, he was groggy, deep in the layer between sleep and wakefulness where dreams lived and reality stood on the fringes. And wow. For the first time in a long while, he was full. Completely satisfied. Without the sharp edge of hunger that always gnawed on him from the inside out.
    Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he cracked his lids, giving his vision another try. Steel glinted overhead, refracted arcs of light spilling like colorless rainbows across the ceiling. Rikar frowned. What the fuck? A sleepy murmur sounded as a soft body snuggled against him and…
    Angela.
    Sucking in a quick breath, he glanced down and…oh, yeah. There she was, fast asleep, her back to his chest, her behind nestled against his groin. Memory flooded him, providing the details.
    With a curse, Rikar laid his head back down. He was an idiot. One who’d screwed the pooch and wound up in the middle of clusterfuck territory. God help him. He shouldn’t be here with her. Should be in his own bed, holding her close while she slept not… here . The instant she touched him, he should’ve picked her up and carried her to his room. What he’d done instead was lose his mind and back her into one of the prison cells. Now they shared real estate. Were horizontal without the possibility of getting vertical anytime soon.
    On a fucking prison cot.
    Christ. Had he said idiot? Well, he’d meant asshole.
    Even knowing he should do right by her—scoop her up and carry her out of the cellblock—Rikar couldn’t move. He wanted to stay right where he was, curled around his female, listening to her deep, even breaths, enjoying the full-body contact. It didn’t matter that they were both still dressed. Being with her wasn’t about sex. At least not this time around. Eventually, it would be, and he’d claim her. But today all he wanted to do was hold her. Protect her. Win her trust by showing her that he could be patient. That being close to her would be enough until she was ready to take things further.
    Shifting backward on the twin mattress, he nudged her onto her back. Her brow puckered, and she muttered, not liking the change in position. He murmured to her, using his voice to soothe her. With a sleepy hum, she turned toward him, giving him her profile as she nestled her face into the curve of his biceps. Unable to help himself, he traced her bottom lip, wanting to taste her so badly his mouth watered.
    He brushed a kiss to her temple instead, then turned north, burying his nose in the soft strands of her hair. Hmm, she smelled like evergreens and ice…and him. Oh, yeah. His scent was all over her, and he loved it. So did the territorial bastard deep inside him. Now any male that came near her would know she belonged to him.
    Or more accurately,