Royal Protector. Dana Marton

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       CHAPTER SIX

      KAVIAN WANTED TO throw her down and sink deep inside her in that instant. He wanted to slake the white-hot burn of hunger inside him, made all the worse for the uncharacteristic restraint he’d showed these past months while he scoured the planet for her.

      He’d found to his great surprise that after he’d had Amaya, even in such a blind rush, no other woman would do.

      She would pay for that, too.

      But first he would bind her to him in a way she’d never untangle. First, he would make certain she saw nothing else in all the world but him. He would make her need him more than air and maybe then she would stop looking for exit strategies. He wanted to own her, body and soul. But first, he would worship her.

      Kavian told himself they were the same thing.

      And if the idea of having her completely at his command—the way she should have been since the day of their betrothal—made that tight thing in his chest feel easier, well, he told himself it was the conquest that fired his blood, nothing more. That tightness was about the injustice and sheer insult of the way she’d kept herself from him, that was all. She was his. It was time she behaved as if she knew that at last, as if she finally understood her place.

      Because Kavian was king of this harsh land, not a bloodhound who could roam the earth forever in search of his runaway bride. He had won back his father’s throne with his blood, his strength. He ruled Daar Talaas with his own cunning and his commitment to defend what was his no matter the cost. He’d had no choice but to chase down the woman who had tried to shame him in the eyes of his people.

      More than that, he’d wanted her. He thought he would always want her. She was his.

      But it was past time he got back to the intricate business of running this ancient, desert-hardened place, or he would lose it to someone who would do so in his stead. That was the law of Daar Talaas. That was the price of power—it belonged only to the man who could wield it.

      His relationship with this woman could be no different. He would not allow it.

      Kavian took Amaya’s sweetly rounded chin in his hand and held her there, though he knew he could hold her as easily with his gaze. He could feel the way she shivered at his touch. He could see emotion and longing in those dark eyes of hers, and he reveled in both. He could smell the delicate scent of her soft skin and the sweet fragrance that rose from the masses of her dark hair she finally wore down around her pretty shoulders.

      And beneath it all rose the far richer fragrance of her arousal.

      The only thing he’d ever wanted more, in all his life, was the throne he’d won back through his own fierce determination. He’d found the darkness within him; he’d become it. He’d used it to do what was necessary. He’d been raised on vengeance and he’d finally taken his when he was barely twenty. And even that—the achievement of his life—seemed far off just now, with Amaya naked and obedient before him, her gaze fixed to his.

      This is the way back to reality, he assured himself. Conquer her here, now, and you will never need to risk the throne for her again.

      He’d known that he wanted Amaya from the moment he saw that video of her. And he’d known precisely how he would take her, and how she would thrill to it, the moment he met her in her brother’s palace. He’d suspected then that she would fit him perfectly.