I got three steps out of the bar before the bond hooked me sideways, hard enough that I stopped.
Kael stood under the parking lot light with his keys in his hand. He wasn't hurrying. He knew.
Kael: You're going the wrong way, Rhea.
Rhea: I'm going home. To my father's house. The one you sell water to.
Kael: Then your feet are lying, because they stopped the second I said your name.
He crossed the lot and took my wrist. Not gentle. His thumb pressed right down on the bone and stayed there.
Kael: I'm not dragging you anywhere. You get in that truck because you want what's in my room.
Rhea: You're a bastard.
Kael: And you're standing there wet in your boots. Get in, or go home and spend the night wondering what I'd have done.
I got in. Some part of me was screaming this was the worst idea of my life, and it didn't get a vote.
His room was above a motel on the border, one lamp, a door that locked twice. I don't remember the stairs.
I remember his mouth. He kissed me in the doorway like he'd been holding it in since the wall.
Kael: Say stop and I stop. That's the only warning you get.
Rhea: Stop talking.
I pulled him by the jacket until the backs of his knees hit the bed, then I shoved him down and climbed over him.
His hands landed on my hips. Right then I stopped being anybody's heir.
I rocked down against him, slow, and the sound he made went through me and pooled low between my legs.
Kael: Fuck. Again.
I did it again. His fingers found the hem of my dress and slid under it.
His palm went up the inside of my thigh, slow, like he wanted me to feel every inch of the way up.
Kael: You're wet. Say it out loud.
Rhea: I'll say what I want.
Kael: Say it, sweetheart.
His thumb pressed down through my underwear and slid, and my hips jerked like he'd pulled a string.
I ground against his hand and he let me, and I hated how good it felt to be that greedy.
He got my flannel open and his mouth on my breast, tongue dragging over my nipple until I was pulling his hair.
Kael: Your heart's going like a rabbit's. Scared?
Rhea: Yes. Don't stop.
The rest was heat and his voice and his hands, and I fell asleep with my face in his neck like I belonged there.
I woke to gray light and his arm heavy across my hip, and the bond quiet. Settled. Purring.
It made me sick.
I got up and found my boots. My wrist had four purple marks on it from where he'd held on.
Rhea: Last night was a mistake. It meant nothing, Kael. Hear me?
He sat up against the headboard and watched me button my shirt wrong.
Kael: Say it again and mean it.
Rhea: It meant nothing. I wanted to hurt my family and you were standing there.
He was out of bed before I finished. He caught my wrist again, right on the marks, and I made a sound I couldn't swallow.
Kael: Nothing. Sure. You came so hard you forgot your own damn name, but it was nothing.
He pulled the door open with me still in his grip. Mack was in the hall with two coffees.
Kael: Mack. Listen to this. The Greyfen heir says last night meant nothing.
Kael: A woman who climbed on top of me and begged, and that's the best story she's got.
Mack stared at his coffee and said nothing. That was worse than a laugh.
I jerked my arm back. He let go and I hit the door frame hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
My shoulder cracked on the wood and my lip split on my own teeth. I tasted blood.
Rhea: Put your hands on me again and I'll bite them off.
He braced his hand on the frame above my head, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him.
Kael: You'll be back. The bond won't let you sleep, and you'll crawl into my bed at two in the morning with your tail down.
Kael: And the next time you call it nothing, I'll bend you over the nearest table in front of your father and let him watch.
I believed him. Both parts. That was the worst part.
Rhea: Go to hell, Kael.
Kael: Save me a seat, sweetheart.
I went down the stairs with a split lip and my shirt buttoned crooked, and the bond trailed me the whole way.
I told myself I would never come back to this place. My body was already keeping score.