Chapter 37 #2
I kiss down her body, nuzzling her ribs through the thin fabric of her nightgown. A soft kiss pressed over her navel before I settle between her thighs.
She.
Tastes.
Like.
Paradise.
Her body shudders, thighs clamping around my ears, fingers fisting in my hair to the point of delicious pain. She arches into my mouth, a loud cry tearing from her lips as release ripples through her.
I don’t stop.
“No more,” she keens, thighs locking tighter around my head. “I can’t take any more, please.”
I’ve been dreaming of this for months, baby. I’m not letting you go so easily.
“One more,” I growl against her heat. “Give me one more.”
And my good girl does.
Her quivering thighs fall open, a thin sheen of sweat coating her skin. I crawl back up her body and capture her lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring into it all the words, all the love I’ve dared not confess.
“You have no idea the power you hold over me,” I murmur against her sweet mouth. “You undo me, Mayah.”
I wrap my arms around her, tucking her against my chest, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her sweet scent. Mayah squirms in my grip until she’s facing me, tracing gentle lines across my chest with her fingers. Can she feel the frantic pounding of my heart?
Her fingers skate down my abdomen, and when she rakes her nails through the trail of hair leading into my sleep trousers, I capture her wrist, pressing her palm against my cheek.
“It’s all right,” I murmur, even though I need her touch more than my next breath. “You don’t have to.”
I don’t want her to feel obligated to pleasure me.
Tasting her, feeling her, was enough.
“Please,” she breathes, sliding her other hand over my heart. When her lips press a soft kiss against the corner of my mouth, my resolve crumbles.
I don’t stop her when she pulls her hand free and trails it back down my abdomen.
Skies, what if she regrets this? What if this pushes her away and she closes herself off? What if she hates me afterward?
Her fingers inch lower, and I clench my hands into tight fists to stop myself from touching her. I want her so badly I can scarcely think.
But I don’t just want her now.
I want her tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
I want her always.
I want her until the Skies plummet and the Thunder falls silent.
I want her mine.
Mayah watches me closely, pressing a sweet kiss over my heart.
Lower. Another kiss on my abdomen.
Fuck.
Lower, still.
Her fingers curl in the waistband of my trousers, another soft kiss pressed just below my navel.
I haven’t taken a single breath. My body is rigid with tension.
“Please, baby,” she croons, gazing up at me like a goddess, forged in soft snow and jagged ice and raging waters. Forged in goodness and stubborn resolve and the blazing fire that heats her soul.
Forged for me.
I blink. My restraint splits clean in half, shot through with the lightning in her gaze.
She squeals as I haul her up and toss her onto her back. The silk of her nightgown slides between my fingers as I grip the fabric in a tight fist.
One loud rip down the middle, and it falls to her sides, leaving her completely bare before me. My mouth goes dry as I drink her in, eyes roving over her creamy skin. I can’t decide what to devour first.
I’ll never forget this moment as long as I draw breath—gentle slopes, the sharp dip in her waist, the rounded curve of her hips. The rosy flush painting her from cheeks to chest, the frantic rise and fall of her shallow breaths.
The love in her eyes.
I can’t pull off my trousers fast enough before covering her body with my own and sealing my mouth to hers.
I’m not gentle.
I’m not patient.
I kiss her with all of the frustration, desperation, and longing that’s plagued me every second of every day since she slapped me across the face and stole my heart.
“Mine,” I whisper against her lips. “Lightning strike me, Mayah, you’re mine.” I kiss her again like a starving man. I might die if I can’t have her.
But only if she wants this. Wants me.
With an exceeding amount of effort, I break our kiss, forehead pressed against hers.
“Tell me you want this.”
She nods vigorously, tugging me back down, nails raking my shoulders. A ragged groan escapes me, and I gather her wrists in one hand and pin them above her head.
“I need to hear you say it, baby.”
“I want this, Zev. Please,” she whimpers. “I want you.”
I stare at her, waiting, chest heaving against hers. I wait two extra heartbeats to be sure.
No prickles.
Cool, crackling relief cascades through me.
She wants me. She wants me.
My lips crash down against hers, tongue licking into her mouth. I reach down, notching myself against her. She tenses in my arms, brows pinched tight.
I nudge her nose with mine, whispering, “Breathe for me, baby.”
My wife listens and obediently sucks in a deep breath, body relaxing against me. My arms bear my weight as I inch forward, just a hair’s breadth and—
A sharp knock rattles the silence.
We both freeze.
“If we’re quiet, maybe they’ll leave,” she whispers, dragging her hands down my back.
“If they don’t, I’ll kill them,” I growl, nipping at her lower lip.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
“Your Majesty? Uh, Prince Zevayr, your father—”
“If you value your life, you will leave,” I snap, turning toward the door. Rage clouds my senses, and our room darkens as stormclouds gather outside.
A beat.
“Sire, please, King Varad—”
“Leave. Now!” I roar. A crack of thunder splinters the air.
Mayah yelps beneath me, and I whirl around, sweeping a soothing hand up her side. My lips brush hers in a brief kiss. “Sorry, baby,” I whisper, smiling in apology.
Hushed murmurs seep in through the door, then a different voice says, “Apologies, sire. The matter is urgent. Otherwise we would never … impose.”
I growl, scrubbing a hand over my face. Why this, why now?
“Lightning damn them to the Skies and back.” I lean down, one hand pressed between Mayah’s breasts. “Stay. Right. Here.” A kiss for every word. “I’ll be right back. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. Her lips curve into a pout, so tempting that I want to kiss her senseless, but then I’ll never leave.
I dress quickly, heading toward the door when Mayah calls out, “Aren’t you going to wash your face at least?”
I grin, purposefully licking my lips slowly, relishing in the flush that paints her cheeks.
“No. I don’t think I will.”
I burst into the council chambers with the force of a maelstrom. The door slams back against the stone wall, commanding the attention of the room.
“A miracle,” Faramir sneers, a vicious smirk twisting his face. “I thought I’d need to retrieve you myself.” His cold gaze narrows on my disheveled hair, my half-buttoned tunic. “A missed opportunity, it seems.”
He licks his lips suggestively, not dissimilar to how I did mere minutes ago to make Mayah blush.
“What was so skiesdamned urgent?” I snap.
“The Rebellion, sire,” Jeyzar explains. “We fear they’re planning another attack. Scouts report a significant number of amassed rebels. We think”—he shares a brief glance with my father—“it’s time you head to the border. You’ll be better equipped to manage the situation.”
My stomach plummets. I knew this would be the eventual outcome. But to leave Mayah amongst these wolves is unthinkable.
Especially my brother.
I stare at the map, the dotted line cutting through Arbinj marking where the Rebellion has managed to stake their claim, willing my mind to conjure another possibility, another reality where there’s a better option than leaving my wife unprotected.
My jaw clenches.
There isn’t.
Jeyzar and my father aren’t out of line for suggesting I leave—I haven’t spent this much time at the palace in over a decade.
But I didn’t have Mayah then.
“I’ll go.” The dark wood of the table groans as I grip the edge. “But only if he comes, too.”
A beat of incredulous silence.
Faramir’s hysterical laugh echoes through the quiet chamber. No one else makes a sound. “Oh, that’s rich, little brother. You’re well-aware that I can’t leave the palace. I’m the crown prince. It’s far too dangerous. Arbinj’s future hangs in the balance.”
“Do you want our people to think you a coward? Our subjects won’t respect a king who hides behind his little brother. You’ll accompany me. I’ll ensure you’re removed from dangerous situations.” Faramir’s left eye twitches, his face reddening as he bares his teeth in a snarl.
My father has said nothing since I burst into the chambers. He looks older today, as though he’s aged years overnight. His eyes are dull, lacking their usual cold fire.
He doesn’t say a word, not even when Faramir shoves back from the table, eyes glazed with malice. The advisers stare at their laps or at each other, faces grim.
A venomous laugh slithers from between Faramir’s lips.
“I’m not going with you, Zevayr.” I flinch.
So rarely does he use my name. “I will stay here. I’ll gladly hide behind my little brother’s sword.
Tell me, how can Mayah stand your touch with all the blood on your hands?
Tundrayni blood. Do you force her? Maybe she—”
The sky rumbles.
“Faramir,” my father warns sharply.
“—likes a rough hand. That’s good to know. Because while you’re gone, Zevayr, I’m going to fuck your wife until she breaks in ha—”
There is no warning.
Just a brutal crack.
Shards of glass rain down as the window behind Faramir shatters. He whirls, ducking against the jagged onslaught.
My chest heaves. Violence crackles in my veins, igniting a raging fire inside me.
His energy signature thrums erratically. He’s terrified.
Good.
Another loud crack. A second bolt of lightning pierces the sky and shatters the next window. And the next.
The advisers find their senses and duck beneath the table. Only my father doesn’t move. Just watches, resigned.
I shatter another window for good measure.