Chapter 27 Fucked In The Woods (6)

Chapter 27 Fucked In The Woods (6)
 —•LUCIA•—
 The rogue king’s words sent my heart thundering against my ribs and set a nervous flutter loose in my stomach.
 “Make me yours?” I choked out, the words barely more than a whisper.
 “Yes,” he growled, the single word vibrating through the air between us.
 “Never!” I said, even as I felt my body slowly betraying me, softening beneath his touch, wanting to give in.
 But I couldn’t.
 No matter what happened, I refused to surrender to that stupid feeling.
 I twisted against his grip, shoving at his chest, my body squirming with everything I had left as panic and desperation surged through me.
 But his hold only tightened, his fingers digging into my waist like iron clamps, keeping me rooted exactly where he wanted me.
 And then it hit me.
 A scent.
 Thick, heady, and impossibly intoxicating, it slammed into my senses so hard it almost knocked me out.
 It flooded my nose, my lungs, my bloodstream, until everything inside me stilled.
 My thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, dissolving into nothing. My mind went blank, wiped clean of every rational thought, every desperate plan, every reason I had to run.
 My whole body went weak instantly.
 “What’s happening to me?” I breathed, but the words came out slurred and distant, like they belonged to someone else.
 The Rogue King didn’t answer—not like I expected him to.
 He just watched me with those glowing red eyes, and it hit me with slow, dawning horror exactly what he was doing.
 He was releasing his pheromones.
 And my traitorous body drank them in like poison disguised as honey.
 Heat erupted beneath my skin, racing through my veins like liquid fire.
 It spread everywhere, consuming me from the inside out, and in my pussy an aching pulse began to build—a hollow, needy throb that craved touch.
 His touch.
 “Let me go,” I whispered, but it came out soft and broken, nothing like the demand I intended.
 “You need to be more convincing… darling, if you actually want me to let you go,” he murmured, his voice a dark velvet caress that sent shivers cascading down my spine.
 I stared at him, my chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths.
 My gaze betrayed me completely, dropping to his lips against my will.
 They were full, slightly parted, and I found myself staring at them for far too long. Far longer than I should have.
 My tongue darted out, wetting my own lips.
 I wanted his lips on mine.
 The thought slammed into my skull with terrifying clarity.
 Was I crazy?
 Was I insane for thinking such a thing?
 Maybe.
 Probably.
 Absolutely.
 Still, in this moment, with his scent wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket, I didn’t care.
 I wanted him.
 I wanted him with an intensity that scared me.
 Why did I feel like this?
 I should hate him.
 I should feel repulsed by his body being close to mine, but I wasn’t.
 Instead, I craved more of it.
 My body didn’t feel like mine anymore.
 It felt like a stranger had taken control—one who suddenly craved the Rogue King's hands on my skin and his lips on mine.
 Had he cast a spell on me?
 Was this some kind of dark magic?
 It had to be.
 It was the only explanation for why I felt like this.
 I knew being near him wouldn’t bring me anything good.
 That was why I tried my best to avoid him as much as I could.
 And now here I was, drowning in him.
 Slowly, he lifted his hand, and brushed his thumb across my bottom lip.
 The touch was featherlight, barely there, but it sent electricity crackling through my entire body.
 A sound broke from my throat—soft, breathy, a desperate little whimper I didn't recognize. A sound I hadn’t known I was capable of making.
 Something inside me snapped.
 I didn’t know what came over me.
 One moment I was fighting everything I felt, and the next I was leaning into him, closing the distance between us, and pressing my lips to his.
 I kissed the Rogue King.
 I fucking kissed him.
 My father’s greatest enemy.
 And I let my lips linger against his, tasting the warmth, the pressure, the impossible rightness of his mouth moving against mine.
 He tasted like darkness and danger and something addictively sweet, and I drank him in like I had been starving my entire life.
 Then reality crashed back down.
 What the hell was I doing?
 I pulled back abruptly, my eyes flying wide open, my hand flying to my mouth.
 “Oh my Moon Goddess!” I gasped, my voice trembling with shock. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I don’t know why I—”
 His hand shot out before I could finish rambling, fingers gripping my chin and pulling my face back toward him.
 He crashed his mouth against mine again, swallowing the rest of my words.
 And I kissed him back—instantly.
 My lips parted for him, meeting his hunger with my own.
 I melted into the kiss, drinking in the intoxicating taste of him as a soft whimper caught in my throat. 
 I wanted more.
 More of the possessive drag of his lips. More of his taste. More of his searing heat. More of everything.
 His grip on my waist tightened, fingers digging into my flesh with bruising force, and a moan spilled from my throat.
 The sound was swallowed by the kiss, lost between our desperate mouths.
 He released another wave of pheromones, thicker and stronger than before, and my knees nearly buckled.
 The heat inside me intensified tenfold, scorching through my core until I thought I might combust.
 It pooled low in my belly, heavy and aching between my thighs, demanding a relief I could no longer deny.
 Instinctively, my thighs clamped together.
 My pussy grew wet, desperate for him.
 My body temperature spiked, a sudden, blinding fever that turned my skin flush and sent shivers racing down my spine.
 Was I going into heat?
 Because of his pheromones?