"How are you holding in there, Princess?" he asks with a laugh, words choppy with the sounds of his beating wings and the dizzying rush of water below us. I can tell from the smug look on his face that he is very much enjoying this, revelling in the sound of my pounding heart, the red flush of humiliation and overwhelm that dusts my cheeks. Yes, everything from the blazon, languid manner of his speech, right down to the casual way he reclines mid air, assessing my shaky form suggests that he is very much enjoying every single second of it.
I, however, am not.
Furiously, I dig my nails into his skin, but the devil seems to barely notice.
"What the hell was that for, Valerian? Let me down," I demand, before stopping short, at once realising the suggestion that lies between my words. Valerian grins, his eyes smouldering.
"As you wish, chérie," he says simply, and lets go of my wrists.
