A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

He came up to kiss me, whispering against my lips, “What were you going to say?”

“Oh—um,” I blinked the haze away, trying to remember what it had been, but it was incredibly hard when I felt impossibly full as he moved slowly inside of me. “I thought you didn’t like it when I talked?”

“I’ve realized I like it all right when I’m deep inside you.”

My eyes widened, a blush warming my cheeks at his crassness. He chuckled softly from seeing my expression, and then suddenly, a thicker air surrounded us like it knew what I was going to say.

I swallowed. “You’re still leaving.”

He pulled back slightly, looking at me thoughtfully, running a thumb across my bottom lip. “Yea. I am.”

An ache started in my chest. “Before you go . . . I want you to show me.”

He watched me, waiting for me to explain while a moment from the past played in my mind.

“You’ve no idea what I have imagined doing to you,” he said roughly.

“Maybe I should show you.”

My heart beat heavily, and I didn’t know why—he was already inside of me. But I realized I was just a girl who was completely new to this, underneath a man who wasn’t. I didn’t know what I was asking for, but I needed it. Wanted his marks on my skin so that this moment could follow me around for days. I wanted him to be my first everything.

“Everything you’ve imagined doing to me,” I breathed.

He came up from my neck he was nuzzling, a dark gaze settling on me. For a moment, he was so still, and then he pulled back from me. My heart beat in unease as I watched him walk away.

When he grabbed a blade off the desk, my eyes widened. What had I asked for? I shook my head frantically. “I didn’t mean something . . . like that.”

His gaze was almost amused as he walked toward me. I backed up, trying to escape, but he grabbed my ankle, pulling me in one yank to the end of the bed.

“I take it back!”

“You always jump to conclusions, don’t you?”

My brows knitted, but then I winced at a small cut he made on my thigh. I realized then what he was going to do when he caught a few drops of blood in his palm.

My eyes widened as he backed away from me, heading to the terrace.

“No!”

I jumped to my feet, grabbing his arm to stop him, but he only pulled me with him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, planting my feet on the floor, but that only got me jerked along.

“Dammit, Weston. No!”

But he already took the first step on the terrace, completely naked, while I stayed in the room. My grandmother was supposed to be coming soon—I couldn’t imagine what she would think if she looked up and saw me bare on a palace terrace with a naked Titan. Well, I guessed I could imagine the conclusion she would come to.

Irritation, expectation—they flowed through my veins as he held his hand over the railing, letting a drip fall to the ground below.

I backed up as he turned around and came toward me. My eyes narrowed on him, and then the first of the

change began—burning, darkening, blackening. A rush traveling through my bloodstream, dark and heady. A flame lighting it, shooting like an oiled wick within my body. The burn was agony, sharp torment, until it faded and faded, allowing me to suck in a deep breath.

When my gaze cleared on Weston, anger rushed me, and I picked up the first thing I saw and threw it at him. I didn’t notice it had been one of his blades until it stuck in the wall beside him.

He stood there, flicking his gaze to the knife, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Thought I taught you how to throw better than that.”

I wasn’t amused—the dark scratched at my chest, ached, burned. I felt the awareness behind my eyes, the lightness of my body, and I forced the feelings down, down, down, until I appeared normal. I wouldn’t be a slave to this feeling. I could control it—I had to.

“I told you not to do it,” I bit out.