Chapter 36 Meryn
MERYN
Complete control of the Astreonan forces.
He’s joking, right? He has to be joking.
Or he’s not joking. He means what he said. And it’s just part of a plot that I can’t quite see or understand.
After Lucien’s absolutely ludicrous declaration, I tell him that I need some time to think about it. That I’d like to take a walk to clear my head.
I’m not the only one who needs some air, though. Stark’s dark emotions have been roiling at the surface of my brain from the moment I woke up from that vision. I need to move, and I need him to move, too. His edginess is seeping into me over our bond, winding me up.
We set out from the southern gate of the castle, passing through gardens and then across one of the bridges that leads us away from the castle complex.
We don’t talk as we move. Frustration runs hot between us, through me and over to him and back to me. It fuels our movement, and we pace faster and faster through the city outskirts until our walk is almost a run.
Once we leave the cobblestoned streets of Brightbane behind, I take a deep breath and speak.
“Stark.” He looks my way, but neither of us slows down. “Set your anger aside, if you can. What do you think I should do here?”
Stark’s voice is full of thinly veiled tension when he responds. “I don’t trust their king at all. This could still be an elaborate trap. I don’t see how we could possibly take him at his word.”
We pass out of the city as we walk, into the wilderness, a rough and stony wasteland that separates Brightbane from the scorching desert beyond. The sun is starting to set, and the rays paint the landscape in reds and oranges and yellows. It looks like another world.
We skirt around a large rock outcropping, and I wind down to the left until it’s at our backs, shielding the city from view. I sink down to my haunches. Right here, all we can see is rock and scrub and the sun’s dying rays, no city spires in sight.
The city of Brightbane could almost be just a tale from a storybook. Almost.
I chew on my lip, thinking over Stark’s words. “I agree. But I’m trying to think it through. A trap? For what? It’s clear Lucien hates Alistair. Wants him dead, once and for all. We’re united in that goal, at least.”
Stark steps over to stand beside me and leans against the rocky surface at his back. “And after Alistair is dead? Once the entirety of the Astreonan forces are inside our land? What if his end goal is to take over Nocturna for himself? How will you possibly turn back his armies at that point?”
Fair enough. I gaze at the horizon, eyes unseeing. “Does he strike you as that ambitious, though?”
That surprises a laugh out of Stark. The sound warms me, even as anxiety still swirls in my gut.
“No, I suppose he doesn’t,” Stark concedes. “It seems like he barely even wants to be king of his own country.” He sighs. “Still, we don’t know him at all. We’re basing this on impressions from a single meeting. We don’t know the truth of his personality or his actual desires.”
I nod and look up at Stark where he looms above me. “You’re right. I think… I think we should hold him off, then. At least for a couple of days. Then I can spend some time getting to know him, find out his real intentions, before we commit to any course of action.”
Stark’s face darkens.
“What?” Why does he look like he’s about to kill something?
And why does that idea make heat instantly bloom between my legs?
Stark grunts. “The idea of you getting to know him…”
For fuck’s sake. “Get real, Stark,” I snap, rising back up to face him directly. “I’ve made it perfectly clear how I feel about you. You’re the one holding back. You have absolutely no right to be jealous of anyone, especially over something this absurd.”
Stark just looks at me, face impassive. Frustrating, stoic man. Suddenly, he’s the last person I want to be talking to.
“Fuck this,” I mutter. I brush off my clothes and turn to go. “Thanks for the counsel. I’ll see you later.”
I start to leave, but my progress is cut short by his hand encircling my wrist. Stark’s fingers close tight around my arm, and I’m pulled back into him.
I let out a small, surprised sound. His warmth on my skin is doing funny things to my heartbeat. I briefly collide with his chest as he yanks me back, and the places where we touch are searing, branded.
When I look up at his face, his eyes are dark, intense, aggrieved. My mouth goes dry.
“Meryn,” he starts, voice gravelly. “For a brief second tonight, I thought we’d lost you. I was worried that you were gone and that I didn’t have a chance to tell you—you are everything.”
My heart pounds, blood rushing through my veins. Heat gathers, low and dangerous in my belly.
“You’re tenacious and headstrong and so fucking powerful that even thinking about it gets me half hard.” His voice is husky, and his eyes pin me in place. I can’t look away. “And that you share that power? That you open yourself up to me and encourage me to use it with you?”
He swallows, and I’m drawn to the movement of his neck, so close to my lips. I want to lick the stubble showing there, trace his tattoos with my tongue. I clench my jaw and meet his eyes once more.
“I’ve never known someone like you, Meryn Sturmfrost. I spent so long hating you and resenting your existence—all the time I’ve fucking wasted being mean to you with the excuse of trying to make you stronger. And it never broke you down.”
At that, I can’t stay silent. “I’d never let you break me, Stark Therion.”
His low laugh goes straight to my center.
“No. You wouldn’t, would you? You sank your sharp edges into me instead.
You broke me, princess—but in the best way.
You’ve taken the vision I have of myself and destroyed it before my very eyes.
If I’m a bad man—you make me want to do bad things for the right reasons. You are my right reason.”
His words stoke the heat inside me until I’m burning with it. I’d do anything, damn the world and everyone in it, just to get his mouth on mine.
There’s still a distance between us, though. I can almost taste it, the way he’s holding himself back, at a remove.
“And yet?” I ask, barely choking out the words around my desire.
Self-consciousness flickers across his face briefly and my pulse picks up. He’s exposing a side of himself to me that no one else gets to see.
“Are you sure?” The words come out quiet, slow, and they make me ache.
My heart twists for this gorgeous, brutal, vicious, thoughtful man—who has rarely had someone choose him for him.
Pressing closer to him, I relish the heat off his body, the tight hold of his fingers on my arm. His breath roughens as I move in, and my skin is alight with the sensation of his nearness.
I can’t go another minute without his skin under my lips.
“Let me show you how sure I am, Alpha Stark.” My voice is barely a whisper, but I can see the instant effect it has on him, see his eyes darken with lust. “Maybe you’ll believe me then.”
And without waiting for an answer, I reach my free hand up and rip open his shirt, the flimsy Astreonan material tearing under my hands.
Then, finally, my mouth and teeth are on him. I’m fucking ravenous. His neck, his stubble. The swirls and jagged lines of each tattoo. I use my free hand to trace each one, licking and nipping each shape as I move downward.
Stark groans, and the desperate sound makes me instantly wet.
The muscles of his chest harden at my attention, his nipples becoming two sharp peaks. I trace the line of his pecs with my lips, lost to the sensation of his hard skin under my mouth.
And his scars. Those scars that cover almost every part of him. I give each one special attention, reveling as his muscles tense and release under my ministrations.
His abs are a wonderland of tattoo and scarred skin and rock-solid muscle. I drag my teeth down, over the hard ridges, and I’m rewarded with a gasp above me.
Smiling against his skin, I yank my other hand from his grip, finally.
I dip the fingers of one hand under his waistband, using the other to undo the clasps holding it closed.
Each clasp reveals more perfect muscle. Dropping to my knees, kissing the V of his muscles that leads straight down to his cock, I nearly lose my mind in anticipation.
And yet nothing could have prepared me for the sight of him when I finally free him from his pants. Hard and huge and velvety, standing straight up between us.
He’s gorgeous.
I wrap my hand around the base, my fingers barely touching, and give an experimental pull.
Stark curses and thrusts into me, just slightly. I bite my lower lip and look up at him. He’s staring down at me, his eyes on mine, mouth slightly parted in wonder.
I’m on my knees for him, but I’ve never felt more powerful in my life.
My insides clench tightly as I imagine being filled by this glorious, primal man.
Slowly, enjoying every moment, I lower my lips to the head of his cock. Once, twice, I swirl my tongue around him, then lap up the bead of moisture at its tip. My thighs tighten at his taste, salty and warm and masculine. Stark lets out another groan.
I tease him with the flat of my tongue, licking down his shaft and back up again.
And then I can’t make myself wait any longer. Hungrily, I take him into my mouth, his girth almost overwhelming me.
His hand comes down to grab my hair, fingers lacing themselves through silver strands. He tightens his fist to pull up my head and then relaxes again, and my mouth sinks down another inch.
Fuck.
I moan around his cock, my eyes shutting with pleasure and satiation. He fills my mouth, and I open wider, letting the head nudge the back of my throat. I lift up and then sink down again, fast, almost gagging as I take him deeper.
His hips buck just a little, nudging the back of my throat again, filling me more completely. I see stars. I moan again, deep and senseless. Then pull up, sucking hard, only to sink my head back down again and again.
“Get up.”
His order is rough, but controlled.