The Marí

Part.25

I felt his predatory gaze sweep over me, tracing every curve and fold of my skin. My heartbeat raged like a storm in my chest as his towering figure loomed closer. The steady drumbeats faded into the chilly night, and the crowd, frozen in astonishment, waited with bated breath to see what would happen next.

Morpheus's imposing form stood over mine, his thick, muscular arm snaking around my waist at an excruciatingly slow pace, until, with a sudden and firm thud, he pulled me against him. I gasped at the force of his action, my hands instinctively resting on his perfectly sculpted chest. His deep black V-neck exposed more of his body than I anticipated, and my breath hitched at the sight of his bare skin, so close and tangible. I lifted my eyes from his chest to meet his intense golden gaze. His jawline was chiseled perfection, his thick brows wild and untamed. His nose was sharply defined, and his full lips seemed to hold secrets that could make any woman weak at the knees.

His golden eyes searched mine, as if astonished by what he found there. Goosebumps prickled along my skin from his strong, possessive hold. Then, his gaze darkened, shifting from lustful desire into something more dangerous—crimson red, a color of raw hunger. His head dipped toward the right side of my neck, and my legs felt like jelly as the pull of desire overwhelmed me, a deep craving rising within me—wanting, needing to be touched by him and only him. My tongue felt knotted and numb in my mouth.

His grasp was both familiar and terrifyingly intimate. His teeth grazed my neck with a dangerous softness, working their way to my ear, sending heated shivers through me before he paused and whispered sternly, "Move," he growled, the sound reverberating through his chest. The single word wasn't a suggestion—it was an order. His grip tightened around my waist, sending a shock of heat through me.

My body moved as if bewitched, my hips swaying uncontrollably to the rhythm of the drums. His hands mapped the flesh of my skin, tracing every inch, igniting a fire with each touch. The music synced with our movements, the atmosphere thick with tension, as if the night itself were holding its breath.

His left hand trailed over my belly, flipping me effortlessly so my back was pressed firmly against his hard, unyielding muscles. His strong arms caressed my shoulders, holding me in place with a gentleness that belied the raw strength behind it.

Hena hadn't prepared me for this part of the dance. Nervously, I closed my eyes, trying not to lose myself to the heat of his breath on my neck. My hips instinctively pressed back against him, feeling the hardness of his arousal through the thin fabric of my robe. As the music grew more intense, his hands grazed beneath my top, dangerously close to my bare breast. I couldn't let this go further.

In a sudden motion, I spun around, breaking free of his hold, locking my gaze with his. This time, I would lead. A smirk played on my lips as his hands slid down to rest on my waist, following my rhythm.

He chuckled darkly, as though amused by my defiance his deep voice sending an eerie trill down my spine, I swallowed hard before meeting his gaze once more. His dark crimson orbs melted back into golden pools, glowing with mischief and something far more potent.
How do they do that? I wondered, remembering Simon's similar ability. Perhaps it was a genetic trait—after all, Simon did call him uncle.

The music reached its peak, and the crowd erupted into cheers, breaking the spell between us. For a brief moment, it felt as if we had forgotten the world around us. I bowed slightly in the direction of the throne and then to my very charming partner, whose eyes still lingered dangerously on me as he returned to his seat.

The lights flickered back on, casting a soft glow over the festive grounds. Nervously, I took it as my cue, my legs still trembling slightly beneath me. Even as I stepped away, I could still feel their eyes on me—watching, waiting. Hena as if sensing my plight gently came to my aid guiding me back to the dressing room.