He stared at himself through the steamy haze, awed by what he found staring back at him. He was blue. Not a little blue. A lot blue. And it wasn’t a light blue. He was Smurf blue, blueberry blue, blue balls blue, blue-fucking-blue. And he knew exactly who was responsible for it.
A victorious smile found Delancey’s lips at the sight of Thane’s thinking face. The fact that he was weighing his options and calculating the risks, instead of acting on instinct, was a good sign. She was winning the war. “See, I think you can’t do it.”
With Thane’s vision cut off, he was at a disadvantage. Delancey exploited that weakness by kicking off her ballet flats and starting for him while starting in on him again. “I think you can’t kiss her. I think you can’t kiss anybody, except me.” To some, she would sound arrogant. But to anyone who knew her and Thane, they would recognize her words for what they were—the stone cold truth.
“I might wear your ring on my finger and your collar around my neck. But you wear me where it counts.”To drive her words home, Delancey touched the pulse point at the base of Thane’s neck. She smiled softly at the feel of life sustaining blood being pumped through his veins. “Here,” she said on a whisper then slid the tip of her nail halfway down his bare chest and to her right. She tapped the exact spot where his heart resided beneath all those layers of skin. “And here.”
Thane’s eyes remained closed. His lips stayed smooth and even. Only the tightening of the corners indicated she was getting to him.
Delancey lifted a surprisingly steady hand to the side of Thane’s head. “And here.” She caressed his temple in a small, slow, circular pattern—just like he liked it. “In the mind that fascinates me so.”
Thane’s jaw flexed, and she cupped his cheek. “Don’t deny what we both know…what we all know.” She brushed her lips along his silent ones. “That I am yours, and you are mine.”
Delancey didn’t heed the warning in Thane’s tone. But she did step into him, sighing his name when the heat his body exuded melted her from the outside in. “Thane.” She guided her hands, both of them, from his washboard abs to the waistband of his low-slung leathers. There, she paused to sigh his name a second time, “Thane.”
Slowly, as though he were drugged, Thane’s lids lifted. His pale eyes captured hers, penetrating and at the same time riveting her. He didn’t speak, not a word. He simply struck. Faster than lightning, more reckless than a storm, he hauled her against him, drawing her to him until her body was flush with his, every inch of her touching every glorious inch of him. Even pissed, having Thane this close, feeling his warm breath on her face, made Delancey want to crawl inside of him, made her want to get lost in him and never come out.
Thane growled, grabbing the hair she’d pulled back in a ponytail and wrapping it around his knuckles. He tugged mercilessly and without his usual restrain. The fiery burn his uncompromising clench ripped a guttural moan from Delancey, and she shuddered.
“You’re damn straight, precious girl,” Thane whispered, his stunningly beautiful mouth hovering just above hers.“You belong to me, and I belong to you. Always have, always will.”
Delancey finally allowed herself to breathe, and her lungs thanked her.
“But I fear one day…
Unease prickled along Delancey’s scalp as she waited for Thane to continue. The foreboding sensation fused with the heat from his hold. Together, they crawled down her neck and spine. She shivered and inexplicably some instinct inside her screamed. Whatever he was about to say would change her, would change them, would change everything. She didn’t know how she knew that. She only knew that Thane feared nothing.
Air left Delancey once again. Thane did fear—for one thing. For her. Her safety, her sanity, and everything in between was everything to him. His weakness, it was her. She was what could bring him to his knees.
If something happened…
It didn’t even bear thinking about. The Thane she knew would cease to exist without her, just as she would, if it were him.
“One day soon, you will pay for loving me. One day, you will suffer for being mine.”
I love to tease. I'm sure y'all know that by now. So I'm posting the first half of Delancey Sorenson's (unedited) Prologue today and the other half on Thursday. Doubling your pleasure means doubling the fun! I hope you all will come back and finish what I - and my characters - have started.
Delancey Sorenson’s Dom had trained her well. He’d groomed her for every scene, readied her for every situation. He’d taught her how to carry herself, how to present herself, and explained how to handle whatever he or anyone else threw her way. And still, he’d never—could never have—prepared her for this moment, the moment when he pushed her away.
“Do it.” Delancey wrestled the order through clenched teeth. “Kiss her.”
Righteous fury, cold and deadly, pounded through Delancey. Her husband and Dom stood across The Edge’s lounge with a breathtaking blonde submissive kneeling on the plush gray carpet in front of him. The blue-eyed witch’s body was fully exposed, her head bowed and her gaze downcast. She looked completely at ease before Thane.
Delancey observed the two of them together. She couldn’t help the sliver of jealousy skittering along her ramrod straight spine. They looked perfect, a golden couple, amongst all the dark woods and seductive shades of crimson surrounding them. But the truth of it was, they didn’t belong together. Delancey owned Nathaniel Sorenson, every bit as much as he owned her. And unlike Thane, she didn’t share. With anyone.
“You want me to believe we’re through, Thane?” Delancey refused to use the ever respectful Sir or Master right now. He didn’t deserve the honor, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that came along with such a revered title in their world.
Delancey’s pointed defiance clearly wasn’t lost on Thane. His brilliant chartreuse eyes flashed at her, challenging her to continue yet daring her to stop and take his inevitable punishment. But Delancey wasn’t one to back down, even from her dominant husband. She kept pushing. “You want me to give back my ring and my collar?”
Thane’s mountainous body stiffened as though he’d been struck with a switch fresh cut from a tree. His big as boulder hands fisted an inch from the thieving sub’s softly sloping shoulders. But he didn’t touch her, and he wouldn’t. He’d never betray Delancey. Never.
“That’s exactly what I want.” Thane spoke loud and clear with just enough authority to be authentic—to someone who didn’t know him. But Delancey did know him. And she didn’t believe his lie, not for a second. He was protecting her.
Stupid fucking Doms and their goddamn God complexes.
“Then prove it to me. I want to see you kiss her.” Delancey nearly added fuck her. But even she wasn’t strong enough to force out those two words. No woman could touch Thane intimately, not and live to see another day, not even in the hypothetical.
Thane’s eyes shuttered before drooping closed. His nostrils flared visibly as he inhaled and exhaled. The crowd gathering around them kept their rapt attention focused on him rather than her, a fact for which she was grateful. Even Thane’s best friend, the Dom he often shared Delancey with, Sebastian Blackwell was smart enough to not intervene. He maintained his distance, just watching, and he held his breath, presumably waiting to see what Thane did and how he reacted. He’d step in, if she needed him to. Of that, Delancey had no doubt. But she didn't need him to, not for this. This was between her and Thane. The others, though, were there for the show. They were waiting to see who Thane chose—his wife or the witch. Little did those people know, the mighty was falling, and the poaching sub didn’t stand a chance.