Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
LARA
W hen we finally part for a moment, Ivrael’s expression is as close to warmth as I’ve ever seen it, though frost still glitters at his temples and collarbones. His usually perfect hair is mussed where I’ve run my fingers through it.
Around us, snowflakes begin to fall, melting as they touch my heated skin but remaining pristine on his shoulders and in his hair. Frost crystals dance in the air around him like diamond dust, catching in his eyelashes and sparkling in the moonlight.
For an instant, the maze looks like a snow globe caught in that perfect moment just after the shake, full of swirling magic and possibility.
I tilt my head back, offering more of my neck to his cool kisses.
“Please,” I whisper.
The resulting growl that rumbles through his chest is worth it.
When I open my mouth to say more, Ivrael pushes my back even harder against the ice wall. For an instant, I feel tiny bumps digging into my back—but then Ivrael presses his mouth to mine, and all other sensation fades away.
I expect his lips to be as demanding, as controlling as they’ve been every other time we’ve kissed. But they aren’t. He brushes them lightly against my lips several times, until he teases my lips open with his tongue.
Heat sparks between us, and I press against him, wanting more.
My nipples tighten and my desire for him, the need that’s been bubbling under the surface for the last year like molten lava, the wanting that never seems sated, no matter how often I try to sate it, moves toward the surface, glowing red-hot just under my skin. I return the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his.
Ivrael allows me to control the pace of this kiss for a long moment, too, keeping it soft and gentle. Then, with a groan he deepens the kiss, taking control of it, plundering my mouth with his tongue, sending tingles of awareness flashing through my entire body, straight to my core.
His hand runs down my side. I shouldn’t want this man—this Icecaix lord—who kidnapped me.
But I do.
Ivrael pulls away and begins dropping kisses down my neck.
My heart pounds against my chest as if trying to break free as Ivrael presses his body against mine and whispers my name, his voice fluttering against my skin.
“Ivrael,” I breathe out, for once not thinking of our many differences—not of his rank, his title, his sheer Icecaix-ness—but only of how unbelievably male he is, how hard his body feels against mine.
“I have tried so hard not to do this,” he murmurs against my neck, “tried so hard to stick to the plan.”
I whimper as his lips glide across my skin, burning a trail back toward my mouth.
“I cannot stop thinking of you,” he says, his breath fluttering against my skin, as hot as his mouth. “Every moment of every day since that first morning in the Trasqo Market.”
His mouth hovers over mine, and I wonder at the heat of him—an Icecaix with a molten touch. I moan, unable to form a coherent sentence, and as I stare into his eyes, the pure need I see in them leaves me breathless.
His lips caress mine, and I slide my hand along the nape of his neck, fingers curling through his hair. He tilts his head back and smiles—a true smile, and oh, God, I was right. It’s amazing.
I am devastated.
Ivrael’s breath mingles with the frigid air, misting my face, heat and cold all at once.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a deep rumble echoing off the icy corridors.
I obey, lifting my gaze to meet his ice-blue eyes. The familiar golden sparks twirl within, but they blaze with an emotion I’ve never seen before.
“Say my name,” he insists, and there’s a vulnerability in his demand.
“Ivrael,” I whisper, my voice barely carrying across the ice.
That’s all it takes.
His kiss is ravenous, devouring, as if he’s trying to consume my very being. And I let him. I open to him, surrendering to the storm he unleashes within me.
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper into the kiss. His grip sends a thrill spiraling down to my toes, awakening a hunger that only he can satisfy. Ivrael’s other hand trails down my spine.
He slips his hand under my skirt. His touch is ice against my skin, branding me with his burning cold, claiming me.
“Mine,” he says again, growling the word against my lips in a possessive caress that sears through me.
And in this labyrinth of ice, I burn for him—only him.
His fingers trail higher with a purpose that leaves no room for doubt, and their chill against the sensitive flesh at the apex of my thighs sends a jolt of electricity snapping through my core.
“Feel what you do to me,” he murmurs, pressing his hardened cock against me, his voice a low rumble that vibrates as if it’s inside my own chest.
His fingers find their mark, and I stifle a gasp, biting down on my lip to keep silent.
But Ivrael doesn’t want my silence. He wants my surrender.
His thumb presses insistently, circling with a relentless rhythm.
The sensation builds, a crescendo of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
My inner muscles clench, seeking something—anything—to grasp onto as Ivrael continues his deliberate assault.
I arch against him, my back curving like the bow of an archer intent on hitting the mark. His hand is soaked with the evidence of my arousal, a testament to the power he wields over me. My breath catches in my throat, hitching on the edge of release, but he doesn’t relent.
“More,” I manage to plead between ragged breaths, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Always more for you,” Ivrael promises, his touch intensifying. His fingers, slick with my desire, slip inside me, filling the void that his teasing has amplified. There’s no gentleness in the motion, just the raw need that mirrors my own.
“Is this what you want?” he growls, each word a puff of frost against my heated skin.
“Yes,” I gasp, the single syllable torn from deep within me.
The walls of my core clench around him, my inner muscles grasping at the invasion, seeking to pull him deeper. He complies, his fingers thrusting with a pace designed to fray my control, to unravel me until I’m nothing but sensation and longing.
An urgency coils tight in my belly, every cell in my body screaming for release, for completion. And as though he can read the silent pleas written in the quiver of my flesh, Ivrael shifts, introducing a new torment as his thumb presses against my clit.
The pressure is insistent, rhythmic, and when he flicks across the swollen nub, sparks of pleasure ignite, racing along my nerves, setting me ablaze from the inside out.
“Yes,” I hiss, the word tumbling from lips bruised by his kisses, my voice a mix of desire and desperation.
Heat pools low in my belly, a flame stoked higher with each calculated stroke. My world narrows to the point of contact between us, to the dance of his fingers and thumb, pushing me ever closer to an edge I’m all too willing to tumble over.
Each brush of his thumb sends lightning arcing through me, each thrust of his fingers fans the flames higher. I’m close, so close, the pressure inside me growing until it’s all I can do not to shatter.
Ivrael’s kiss never falters, swallowing my moans, drinking them down. His power over me is a tangible thing, wrapping around me, holding me together even as I come apart at the seams.
“Tell me you’re mine.” His voice rumbles from his chest, sounding as if it’s remained unused, like it’s been encased in ice for years.
“Yours,” I gasp into his mouth, the word a surrender, a victory.
And with it, the overwhelming force of my climax claims me, hitting like a supernova, exploding from the core of me and expanding outward in waves of unadulterated bliss that leave no part of me untouched.
My vision whites out, and I am nothing but sensation, a being of pure pleasure that writhes under the command of Ivrael’s skilled hand.
The sound he makes in his throat as I try to catch my breath afterward is one of pure male satisfaction, and I glance up to find him gazing at me with golden sparks swirling through his irises.
Then I close my eyes and let my head thump back against the wall, my heart racing. But I wait only a moment before dropping my legs from his waist one at a time, holding his heated gaze with my own as I slide my body down the front of his. My mouth dries as I feel him, long and hard, pressing against me.
Almost as soon as I hit the ground, I take his shoulders in my hands and spin him around, then push him back until he’s leaning against the wall. He chuckles low in his throat, and I give an answering grin, biting my bottom lip as I turn my attention to his clothing.
Fumbling more than I want to, I rush to unbutton his upper garments, and shove first his jacket and then his shirt from his shoulders, leaving his chest bare down past the hard planes of his stomach. Making a strangled noise of my own, I stand on my tiptoes to press my mouth to his neck, placing my hands on his chest and sliding them down to his waistband.
I smile against his skin when he shivers as I run my fingers along the edge of the fabric. Then I slip one hand down to cup him, hot and hard, and a pained noise escapes him. It takes me a moment, but eventually I figure out the button closure on his old-fashioned clothing and push his breeches down around his hips.
His cock stands straight, and I slow down, taking in the sight of him—of the thick length, those alien ridges that were so easy to flick my tongue across. That I can imagine sliding into me even now.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I whisper.
Carefully, gently, I caress him, slipping my finger across the tip, circling as he moans. His cock jumps and swells, and I look up, watching his face as I stroke him, enjoying the expression of mixed pain and pleasure my touch elicits.
“Lara,” he rasps out, his voice hoarse, almost pleading.
I flutter my fingertips along the length of him, then pause. “Yes, Ivrael?”
I savor the taste of his name on my tongue, using it deliberately, provocatively.
He shudders and shakes his head. “Nothing. Just… don’t stop.”
With a grin, I drop to my knees and lean forward, licking him gently once. His breath catches in his chest as I take him into my mouth, sliding down on him until I reach my limit, then sliding back out, making tiny noises of pleasure as I do.
I slide him in and out of my mouth several times, then flick my tongue against the underside of his cock, following the same path my fingers took moments before. He hardens even more, his breath hitching in his chest.
The next time I pull up and away, I swirl my tongue around the head before sliding down on him, taking him even deeper.
Ivrael hisses, “Oh, fuck,” his cock jerking in my mouth as the rest of him goes totally still. I smile around him, and when I glance up and meet his gaze, he groans. I realize he’s been holding his breath, his arms outstretched, palms flat against the wall. He groans out my name again, then reaches down and pulls me back to my feet, dragging me to standing.
I press myself forward as I rise so that the length of him is dragged along the fabric of my dress between my breasts.
Ivrael wraps his arms around me, pressing kisses to my neck.
“You are killing me,” he says. “This is a bad idea.”
“I don’t care.” I slip my hand down between his legs, caressing his cock, feeling the satin-over-steel texture of his skin.
“You will eventually care.” He carefully unties my bodice, pushes it off my shoulders, and sucks first one nipple into his mouth, and then the other.
His touch has left me wet, aching, determined to take this chance to be with him. “I won’t. And even if you’re right…I can’t stand this any longer. I want to feel you inside me. I want you.”
His gaze bores into me, as if begging me for more words.
So I give them to him. “Fuck me, Ivrael. Please.”
Cursing, he tugs my dress off of me, dropping it to pool on the snow and ice, then finishes undressing himself. But his touch against my skin is gentle, almost reverent, as he pulls me into his arms and kisses me again.
His entire body burns with an inner heat like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He takes my hands in his and begins to lift them over my head—but then he pauses, regarding the blue ribbons around my wrists.
An angry expression flits across his face, and he mutters a single word in that language I don’t understand.
Without warning, the ribbons fall away.
“I’m sorry I did that,” he murmurs against my neck. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving me.”
I blink at my wrists, not sure what to say to Ivrael.
Izzy and I can leave now. If not for our plan to approach a firelord, we wouldn’t even have to go to the Ice Court. We could flee together. Tonight.
But I’m beginning to realize that maybe I don’t want to leave at all.
In the end, I don’t say anything. Instead, I pull Ivrael’s mouth to mine. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he lifts me again, pressing my back against the wall, where I don’t even feel the cold.
I wrap my legs around his waist, and he presses his cock against me. I’ve never been more ready for anything, but he still takes his time, sliding into me one agonizingly slow inch at a time.
He holds my gaze the whole time, and I tilt my hips upward, ready to beg him to fill me. When he finally buries himself in me, he stops moving entirely. Holding me steady, he rests his forehead against mine.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers.
Then we begin moving together, our breath mingling as he thrusts into me, and I meet him with equal fervor. The length of him slides into my core, and I whimper with the exquisite agony of being so damn close to exploding again.
As I begin to make tiny noises in my throat, Ivrael takes my wrists and pins them above my head.
“Don’t let go,” he says. “Not yet.”
I fight my body’s desire to climax, and Ivrael slows the pace, leaving me aching with need and wanting him even more than before. Then, as soon as I have control again, he speeds up, his mouth slanting across mine in a kiss, his tongue playing in my mouth, teasing me, toying with me.
Playing me like an instrument.
He controls everything, and it’s perfect—the pacing, the power, the pure sensuality of joining together.
Then he slides his hands under my ass and turns us around, still connected until he’s the one pressed against the ice wall. He begins rocking his hips. I meet his thrusts, and this time he doesn’t stop me as I begin to whimper, burying my face in his neck.
“Look at me,” Ivrael whispers into my ear, his voice somehow both commanding and reassuring.
When I lift my head up from the crook of his neck, his gaze locks onto mine. “Trust me,” he says.
With one hand, he reaches down between our naked bodies, his thumb circling. A surge of pleasure runs through me and my back arches, pushing me closer to him.
“Let go,” he murmurs softly, his eyes locking on mine, urging me again to trust him—and I find myself wanting to give him all of me.
Wanting to trust him.
I rock back and forth. My breath hitches in my throat as the pressure builds within me. Ivrael’s hair falls over his forehead, but he never once breaks eye contact, his gaze almost daring me to lose myself in the moment.
“Now,” he says, command and permission, all rolled into one.
I let go of everything—my fears, my doubts, even my identity—and allow myself to become lost in the strength of his touch.
As my orgasm washes over me, I cling to Ivrael, my nails digging into his back. A cry escapes my lips as pleasure courses through my body. My inner walls clench tightly, as if my whole body wants to hold him close, and I bury my face in his neck, whimpering and gasping. It rolls over me in long waves, finally leaving me trembling and breathless.
Ivrael picks up the pace again, swelling larger and harder inside me, and those ridges of his begin rippling.
That’s new. And oh, so good.
“Oh, yes,” I hiss. “More.”
At my words, Ivrael arches into me a final time, his cock jerking inside me as he groans my name. He pulls me down tight against him and holds me there as he shudders, exploding inside me.
After a moment, his grip loosens, and he brushes my hair away from my face.
In the aftermath, my head swims with the warmth of his presence, and I wonder what the last year might have been like if we’d acted on our attraction to one another sooner.
When he sets my feet against the ground, I wonder if he will put his cold Icecaix mask back in place.
But he doesn’t.
“I believe we can save my world,” Ivrael says as he pulls me into his arms, pressing his lips to my forehead.
I shake my head, uncertain of the train of thought that led to the comment.
“But if I have to choose between that and you,” he continues, “I choose you.”
A shudder runs through me, and I search his face for any sign of hesitation. But as I look into Ivrael’s eyes, I see something else.
Hope.
Everything I’ve believed about him, everything I’ve thought I understood, teeters on the edge of some great chasm, and my head spins with it.
He grips my hand tightly. “I never thought I could feel this way about someone. But now that I have you, I can't imagine a life without you.”
A surge of warmth rushes through me at his words, and our fingers intertwine as if they’re made for each other.
I just hope he means what he says.
I don’t know if Izzy and I can survive this place if he doesn’t.