Chapter 18 #2
She didn’t reply, instead watching his eyes as the embers flared bright gold, nearly blotting out the ether and light brown of his irises.
A burning sensation spread up her throat and across her hands, uncomfortable but not any more than the injuries themselves.
The feeling only lasted for a few seconds before fading completely, taking the pain with it.
“There,” Morgen murmured, starting to pull away. She caught his hand before he could, holding it to the same spot it had been on her chest.
Before he could protest or say anything at all, she blurted out, “I heard what Carus said to you, about legitimizing the marriage.”
Morgen stiffened. “You were listening to that?”
“Yes, right before I was snatched and drugged by your soldiers, so you don’t get to be angry with me about it.”
He started to pull his hand away again, shaking his head. “Nya—”
“And I think he had a point. If not doing that is going to cause issues or make it more likely that people will try to stab me in the back, I think it would be stupid not to.”
Now, she let him pull away. He sat back, long arms draped over his bent knees on the bed. She didn’t mistake his posture for anything relaxed, though. His jaw was tight, his voice tense when he said, “There is no way for anyone to know we haven’t.”
She raised a brow. “Except they obviously figured it out. Carus made it seem like people would be more apt to swoop in and get rid of me if they thought we weren’t really married.
I don’t know much about marriage traditions in Arcadia, but I’m getting the impression it’s all taken a lot more seriously than in the mortal realm. ”
He sighed. “Not necessarily. Pretty sure the mortal royals are also sticklers about consummation.”
“Okay, yes, fine,” she said, rubbing at the slight ache in her neck.
“All I’m saying is that it sounds pretty likely someone got Feron and his friend to do their dirty work for them.
Meaning at least a handful of people here are aware, and there are probably others eyeing my spot.
The easiest way to get that to stop would be to get it over with and be obvious about it. ”
“Or I could just track them down and kill them, like I did Feron and Sillas.”
A humorless laugh escaped her. “Really? You’d rather kill your own soldiers than touch me?”
“I’m fairly certain you know that not to be true, Nya. You were the one who just framed sex between us as something to get over with.”
“Then why?” The words came out quieter than she wanted, almost hushed.
He leaned his head forward, his hair falling in his face. “Lots of reasons. Because I never want you to think that’s expected of you. Because you were forced into this marriage. Because I’ve seen enough men use ‘duty’ as an excuse for consent—and worse.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re not your father, Morgen.”
“Perhaps not yet. I imagine it took time for him to become a ruthless tyrant who took pleasure in taking advantage of women and watching them die as a result.”
“It was always in him, I’m sure,” she whispered. “But you are not like that, and you never have been. The fact that we’re even having this conversation is proof. I know you saw far too much when you were young, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to flip a switch someday and change completely.”
He sighed deeply then surprised her by tugging her closer, his head resting against her torso. His voice was muffled when he said, “I’m sorry for what happened today.”
After a moment of stunned shock, she let herself relax into his embrace. “It wasn’t your fault.”
His arms tightened around her. “Maybe. Or maybe it was selfish not to tell you the risks.”
“I was well aware there was risk.” She laughed dryly and added, “I married you under threat, after all.”
He groaned, pressing his face to her stomach. “I’m not a good person, Nya. It’s obvious.”
“You are not,” she agreed softly, a little amazed he’d said it without pushing her away entirely.
It wasn’t like him; none of this was. “But I don’t believe anyone is truly good.
They’re lying if they say they are, and you’re only hurting yourself trying to convince anyone you’re the only one in the entire world who has moral flaws. ”
He let out a soft puff of air against her but didn’t respond. His lips brushed the strip of skin where her shirt had ridden up, and she inhaled sharply, threading her fingers through his hair. Her skin felt oversensitive and fragile, every light touch of his mouth and hands making her shiver.
He had come for her. And not only that—he’d made sure that those who had hurt her suffered for it.
She was still reeling and shaky, and not for the first time in her life, she wanted him to ground her. Except that, unlike all the other times before, when he’d kept a safe distance between them, he was right here, touching her, and she needed more.
“You should rest,” he murmured, even as he nipped lightly against the thin skin at the top of her ribcage.
A soft, unbidden moan slipped past her parted lips.
His hands tightened, though his touch was still achingly gentle as he slid his fingers up further to press against the undersides of her breasts.
When he didn’t go further than that, she whimpered softly, moving her hips instinctively against him, seeking any friction, because she was starting to burn—
He groaned again; this time, it was a mix of frustration and something darker that sounded exactly like what she was feeling.
He glanced up at her, eyes dark with desire and crackling with a deep shade of amber-gold.
“Please,” she whispered.
“You need—”
“This is what I need.”
He searched her gaze, as if he could pull the truth from within her eyes.
She was about to protest, to beg, but she didn’t ever have to go that far, because his mouth had closed around one of her nipples, and she cried out in surprise as he flicked his tongue over the pebbled surface.
Her back arched, and he pulled back, forehead against her sternum.
They were both breathing fast, and through half-lidded eyes, she saw his hand was fisted in the sheets next to her.
“Morgen?”
He lifted his head, his cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. “I want…” His voice was hoarse. “Can I see you?”
She didn’t hesitate a second, tugging her shirt off and letting it fall to the floor.
The blankets pooled around her waist, and Morgen stared at her with wide eyes, his gaze sliding slowly over every inch of her.
His lips were parted. his chest rising and falling in quick succession.
She thought she might have shocked him by moving so quickly.
Finally, he touched her again, splaying his hand over her sternum. She wondered if he could feel just how hard her heart was beating.
“You are so singularly beautiful,” he breathed, and she shivered. “It’s a little overwhelming.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “You did see me nearly naked in the pool the other night.”
He shook his head and muttered, “That damned shift was in the way. I swear, I’m going to burn every last one of those.”
She opened her mouth to tell him he was being ridiculous, but then he sucked on the scar at the base of her neck, where he’d bit her after their wedding.
She cried out in surprise as a shocking bolt of pleasure raced down her spine.
When he swirled his tongue over the same spot, the sensation intensified again, and she gasped, “Wha—What… Why does that feel like that?”
He did it again, ignoring her question, instead asking, “Do you think you can come just from this?”
“I don’t know—Oh gods.”
She fisted her hands in the material of his shirt as another wave of that confusing, blinding ecstasy spread low in her belly and all the way to her center, the ache nearly painful. Maybe she could come from this. Maybe she was nearly there.
He lifted his head slightly, and when he spoke, it was barely a whisper against her ear. “I want you to do this to me next.”
He bit down softly on the scar.
Her head emptied.
She was reduced to nothing but sensation and a wave of overwhelming pleasure she hadn’t even known was possible.
The feeling was violent. Demanding. Destructive.
She almost thought for a moment she was dying. But if this was death, she wanted to die a thousand times more, and she wanted Morgen to be the one to do it.
When she came back to awareness, she was panting against his shoulder, shivering with tiny aftershocks. For a split second, she had the urge to do exactly as he’d said, to bite him and taste his blood.
To claim.
“Do it,” he rasped, his hand fisted in her curls, tugging just enough to make her feel it without hurting her.
“I shouldn’t—”
I don’t give a fuck about what we should or shouldn’t be doing.
Even down the pathway, his voice was breathless. She straddled him and let herself graze her teeth along his heated skin, but still, she fought the growing need to mark him as he’d marked her.
You’re not thinking straight.
He looked her straight in the eye, letting her see every raw emotion laid bare on his face when he replied in a place that was for them alone. I never am around you.
Maybe his words should have given her pause.
They were a reminder that, though their marriage was a farce, the feelings between them were very real, even if neither of them liked to acknowledge it.
What they were doing now wasn’t just about her safety or even his political maneuvering, not anymore. Perhaps it never really was.
Before she even really knew she was moving, her teeth sank into his skin. Color and light exploded across her vision when she tasted his blood, fleeting images flashing before her eyes.
Two daggers. A familiar voice whispering, “Together?”
Drops of blood in a pool; a ceremony. “Great and terrible things lie ahead…” An orchard of trees and an angry roar.
A blaze.
Endless darkness.
Eyes of amber-gold and a child’s echoing laugh—