Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)

“There was a woman.”

“Your mother, do you think?”

“No. I remember them both.”

She made a sound of acknowledgement.

“Can I try your neck now?”

“Yes.” He braced himself.

“Is it too much right now?”

“Just do it.”

Her caressing thumbs skimmed lightly up the back of his neck, and he gasped, clutching the arms of the chair. A violent shudder wracked him, and his cock twitched. He couldn’t figure out if he wanted to shove her away or fuck her.

“Whoa now. You okay?” Her hands stilled, and he was grateful for the moment to collect himself.

“It’s...intense.”

“Good or bad?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fair enough.” She sounded amused, and that made him feel like it wasn’t a big deal either way. She tried again.

He hissed out a breath and shivered, but tolerated it for a few minutes before he started to enjoy it.

“Can I run my fingers through your hair?”

He was used to the brush at least. “Yes,” he said confidently.

“When was the last time you had a haircut?”

“I don’t remember.”

She petted his hair, smoothing it back from his face, as though she was going to put it in a ponytail. When that didn’t faze him, she got bolder, running her fingers through it but careful not to tug at the tangles he’d picked up during the day. He hadn’t braided it this morning, but they hadn’t gone anywhere, so it was its usual shaggy mess. She didn’t seem to mind it. Her nails gently running over his scalp made him groan.

“Should I cut my hair?”

“Maybe a trim, but if you cut it short, I’d be forced to kill you.” Her tone suggested she wasn’t joking. She sighed happily and buried both hands in his hair. “I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you. Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?”

Clearly, she was delusional.

“I’m not a handsome man, Miss Korsgaard,” he said. “There’s no need to stroke my ego by lying to me.”

“I didn’t say handsome – I said hot. You make the la bestia look work for you. Masculine. Brutish. Muscles and glares and that mean jaw.” She sighed, and ran her nails over his scalp again, which was far more pleasurable than it should have been. “I was a little terrified you’d get me pregnant just from eye fucking me.”

He snorted, but he wondered what that would be like – to join with her like that. To watch her growing round with his baby. It would have turned him on if it didn’t come with the actual child to take care of. They could have children together, make a real family, but he didn’t know anything about being a father at all, other than what he’d seen on television. He had vague shadows of memory of a man sitting with him and eating ice cream, but where had that kind face been when he’d been banished here? Why hadn’t he ever come to visit, at least? Maybe the man had been a servant. Or maybe he’d been one of his abusers.

With parenting genes like Severin had, he had no business bringing children into the world. And again, the blackouts.

“It’s a good thing that can’t happen,” he finally said. “I’m the last person in the world who should be a father.”

“I don’t think that’s true. You’re gentle when you want to be, and I have a hard time imagining you being cruel to a child.”

True. He liked Church’s kids, but couldn’t imagine having to remember to feed someone, or keep an eye on them. And his genetics?