Her eyes watched the King as he moved towards her, his intentions clear in his dark eyes, and Ro couldn't help but flinch at his hand on her face, which was surprisingly soft. Opening her eyes again, watched his face as he brushed the hair away from her face, confused by the emotions she saw there. He was such a contradiction, almost bipolar in his moods. But he was a lycan, and if the beast was always present in him as she suspected it was, he always wanted either blood or flesh. The blood lust having left his eyes, leaving just the raw need in his eyes, something that left her even more petrified then the blood lust. His lips met hers and she kissed him back, knowing she had to get through this. His kiss was passionate, and Ro tried to relax into his kiss, but she was still rather agitated. As he broke away from her, his words, his voice so full of lust for her, sent a shiver down her back, but if it was from fear or something else, was unknown.
"I'm a Moore," she said softly, as if that explained it all. "My mother was Queen, my sister was Queen..." she trailed off, as his hand slid down her neck, to rest on her shoulder. "It runs in our blood," she whispered. There was no room between them anymore and Ro was trying very hard not to make him angry again. Those fingers along her shoulder, playing at the sleeve of her ripped dress had her closing her eyes as he slipped it down her shoulder, the ties in the front having come un-done, allowing the dress to slide off her shoulders, and pool around her feet, still clad in the blue boots and white cotton panties. She hadn't been wearing a bra, because she didn't need one, but now she wished she had been. She attempted to cover herself, as his hands slid over her body.
His words about her sister had her looking up at him sharply, her modesty forgotten. In truth, Tragedy was the stronger of the two, the hell cat, all fire and brimstone. But she wasn't going to tell him that.
"Do you really want to talk about my sister right now?" she asked him as she stepped closer to him, pressing her body up against his, anything to make him forget about Tragedy, her lips moving alone his throat, to his jawbone, scenting him lightly, trying to ignore the reactions of her body to being this close to someone this powerful, someone she was attracted to despite herself. Romance had a type, tattooed, and bad ass. And X fit the type, if he hadn't killed her sister's mate and then forced her to be his mate, she might have actually been interested.
Her thoughts drifted to her first love, her only love, Jericho and she paused as her lips almost touched X's. She wasn't sure she could do this. She had only ever been with Jericho. It had always only been him.