Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The moment we’re clear of the staircase and walking down a narrow corridor, I struggle against his hold. He growls at me to settle, but I wiggle until he puts me down.
He sighs. “Rae… Why won’t you accept my help?”
I shake my head.
“You’re light as a feather,” he says, his voice still rough with that growl. “You’re exhausted, and your feet ache, fuck knows why. Did you hurt them after the trial? I thought those healers fixed them up.”
I hadn’t been supposed to stay in this form for so long, but that’s not something I can explain to him, so I just start walking down the corridor, doing my best not to limp. I took the help. It was a moment of weakness, and now the pain is not as bad. I can’t learn to rely on him.
“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he mutters, matching my steps.
Am I? I try to be. I take it as a compliment.
“Too stubborn,” he goes on, and okay, maybe not meant as a compliment. “Would it kill you to let me carry you to my room?”
I whirl on him and glare. I’m not going to your room , I mouth.
He ignores that. “How did you hurt your feet? You got wounded and won’t tell me? Did you step on something sharp? Or is it the Pillar and the magic of the longest night?”
That gives me pause. Could that be the reason why the spell wasn’t undone the moment I fell into the sea, as it was supposed to?
“I wish you could speak.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “I wish you could tell me who you are, because it’s driving me crazy. From the moment I saw you, I thought I knew you, that I…” He pushes out a breath, and a crease forms between his dark brows. “Fuck, forget it. What in the hells am I doing?”
The same question I keep asking myself. What am I doing?
So, I start in the other direction, struggling to orient myself. If I get back to the grand stairs, then I need to find the long hallway traversing the palace, and from there, figure out the way back to my room.
“At least, let me go with you,” he says.
No. I slap at his arm when he falls into step with me again. Go away.
“You’re still limping.” He opens his arms, that crooked grin making a reappearance, complete with that faint dimple that sends a pulse of desire through me. “Don’t tell me it was that bad, being in my arms.”
Don’t even think about it.
“Godsdammit, why do stubborn women turn me on so much?” he grunts.
And why do my lips twitch? It’s unforgivable. Stupid. I turn my head away to hide the smile forming on my face.
But his hawk-like gaze catches it, apparently, because he makes a strangled sound. “Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”
The feeling is mutual.
And before I register what’s happening, he draws me into his arms and presses my back to the wall, his warm breath washing over my face, scented with sage and woodsmoke. His long lashes half-shielding his dark eyes, he looks down at me as if he wants to climb inside me, kiss me, lick me, eat me alive.
It shouldn’t make my stomach tumble and my insides burn like it does.
“I want your mouth,” he pants, “I can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about you.”
Gods, I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his lips on mine, to test the sharpness of his canines with my tongue, to see if he tastes as delicious as he smells. I want that muscular, male body pressed to mine, that wall of his chest crushing my breasts, that bulge between his legs trapped between us.
“The way you look at me right now… Hot damn.” He folds one arm over my head, against the wall, and steps closer until I feel his hard body touching mine. “I’m about to lose my mind.”
I want that, I realize. I want him to lose control.
Athdara, the man everyone is scared of, the dragon speaker, the wielder of shadows. I want Jai to lose control, the man who saved my life and carried me out of the dragon’s mouth, who danced with me and told me I can speak to dragons.
Who told me that I’m graceful, strong, and beautiful.
Not because I want to see him fall—but because I want to see him fall for me.
“Fuck, tell me to stop,” he growls, lips peeling back, eyes shining black, and he looks feral and dangerous. His arm over my head flexes. His other hand travels up my neck to my face, his thumb brushing over my mouth, the pad rough, eliciting shivers. “Tell me to stop right now. Fuck me, Rae, I haven’t felt like this in a hundred years.”
I don’t want him to stop; I want him to eat me alive, I want his lips to replace his fingers, I want him to take me as if I already belong to him, and…
Wait… A hundred years?
But his head dips lower, lips parting, and my hands are already sliding up his chest, tearing the buttons open as they go, higher, over the strong column of his neck… reaching for his face.
Finally, I splay my fingers over the hard line of his jaw and scrape my nails over his light stubble, a breath leaving me.
Gods, this man… I have never wanted anyone like this.
You loved a boy once , a faint voice in my head reminds me. You loved him.
Yes, but he was a boy, and I was a girl. Now I’m a woman, and this is a grown man, powerful and bewitching, sexy as all hells, and I’m burning for him.
His scent is intoxicating, the feel of his lips descending on mine empties my mind.
His mouth crushes my lips. His tongue demands entrance, and I let him in. He sweeps it over the roof of my mouth, against my teeth, tasting me. When my tongue tangles with his, he groans and pushes me harder against the wall, until I can feel every indentation and protrusion.
And, yes, he tastes even better than he smells, like aromatic smoke, bitter tea, and sweetness.
This kiss is consuming me. I’m rubbing myself against him, I realize, breathless and aching for him.
Growling against my mouth, nipping at my lips, he cradles my face with one big hand, the thick thigh he shoves between my legs jolting me. The fire is rising, about to engulf me and burn me down to nothingness.
Burn down the entire palace, burn the world.
My breath is coming in short gasps. My hips are rolling. Oh gods, every time I press against his thigh, the pressure ratchets up.
“Fuck, Rae…” He groans into the kiss, bites down with sharp teeth, offering a slight sting of pain. “Fuck…”
Those simple, raw words do something to me. It’s a sign of that loss of control I’ve been craving to witness—but then a spark in my chest jumps and burns, making me gasp.
He pulls back, eyes flying open. “You…” he whispers. “I knew it, I’d felt it…”
Felt what? I think. Don’t stop. I grab his face and put my mouth back on his, fusing our lips together. Don’t you dare stop.
My head is full of cotton. My body is full of fire.
“You’re killing me,” he breathes, licking at my lips, shoving me harder against the wall. “You can’t be real. I’m imagining things.”
Good things , I think. Imagining good things.
“Fuck this. I don’t give a damn.” He grabs my chin, my jaw, his hand sliding around my neck, gripping it. “Ride my leg. Come for me. Come for me, beautiful.”
Something shutters inside me. Or explodes. Who can tell? It’s such a relief, such a sharp pleasure, that I cry out, my head falling back against the wall, my body jerking against his.
And my cry echoes against the walls.
It takes a long moment for the sound to sink in, for me to connect it to myself.
That sound came from me. When it shouldn’t have.
He pulls back, brows lifting, black eyes narrowing at me. “Rae?”
Shit.
At this point, I think it’s fair to say both of us are surprised, and I have no clue if this is the best or worst thing that could happen, but… it looks like my voice is back.