CHAPTER 25
It was then that Nymera Pale, the Goddess of the Moon, descended, her haunting light bathing the night, and we learned that even in darkness, divine observation never ceased. Approval now extended beyond the day, and those who worshipped wisely could navigate both sunlight and shadow.
Snippet from “The Book of Natural History” By Priestess Antonella Killoran
Alaios looked down into those big green eyes, dark and glistening with a blend of satisfaction and fresh defiance.
She grabbed the back of his head, pushing his head closer to hers.
She brushed her lips just beneath his ear.
“You’ve spent so long preparing me to survive,” she murmured.
“You’ve forgotten how to show me how to live.
” Her tongue flicked across his lobe before her teeth sank into it.
The flirty look in her eyes was a sexy insinuation that felt like a physical blow, and his carefully constructed resolve—the duty, the fear for her safety, the stern instructor facade—vanished like smoke.
A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, a sound of pure surrender.
His hands slid down her back, bypassing the thin cotton of her tank top, to cup her ass.
With a grunt, he lifted her; her slight frame was light in his arms. Instantly, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, their embrace a living anchor that pulled her flush against him.
He pressed her against the cool surface of the window.
Held tightly against him, she was pinned there, the slight vibration of the city outside a faint hum.
He broke the kiss only to murmur against her lips, “I need you again, Lyra. Now.” He set her down, his hands working quickly to unbutton his shirt, his gaze never leaving hers, dark and intense.
The shirt fell to the floor, exposing the scarred landscape of his chest. He paused, waiting to see if any look of disgust at his scars would fill those eyes.
But nothing did. She just reached out and rubbed her hands across his chest, her thumb gliding across his nipple. It instantly puckered under her touch.
“You look like temptation was built around you instead of the other way around,” she sighed.
He moved with the practiced surety of a predator; his gaze never leaving her.
The black trousers fell to the floor in a single motion.
His fingers snagged the hem of her sweatshirt, the material bunching as it tugged it up.
He flung it carelessly over his shoulder.
Then, his hand slid to the zipper on her jeans, yanking it down with a course, determined tug.
His hands slid the denim down her thighs, peeling the fabric away until it pooled at her knees, then her ankles, leaving her exposed in the simple white tank top as she stepped out of them.
His eyes, dark and heavy with intent, rose to meet hers as he hooked his thumbs under the hem of her tank top.
He pulled slowly, deliberately, lifting the shirt up her torso, revealing the delicate curve of her ribs and the soft swell of her breasts.
The cool air brushed against her skin, causing gooseflesh to rise.
He paused, inhaling deeply, catching the delicate, intoxicating scent of her—a clean, warm mix of her own natural musk and the ghost of orange blossoms that clung to her.
He peeled the shirt over her head, the last light barrier gone.
His eyes lingered on her pink, lace-trimmed bra, a final, fragile barrier.
He didn’t rush. He reached behind her, his thumb brushing the skin of her back as he found the small clasp. With a gentle click, the bra gave way, and he slid the straps down her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor with the rest of her clothes.
He looked at her, his eyes darkened with hunger, and his hands came up, spanning the width of her waist. His palms flattened against the silk of her bare skin, the contrast of his calloused hands against her softness sending a tremor through him.
He felt the rapid, desperate flutter of her heart beneath his touch, a wild, beautiful rhythm that matched the growing need in his own core.
He traced the line of her hipbone with a possessive touch, savoring the feel of the supple skin yielding beneath the pressure of his caress.
She smelled like the impossible peace he craved, a clean, sweet warmth that was a direct contrast to the ozone and ash of his own domain.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the column of her neck, inhaling her scent deep into his lungs.
His mouth found hers again, a hungry, demanding kiss that left no room for thought.
The kiss was a hungry, demanding kiss that left no room for thought.
His hands, rough and determined, slid down her back, finding the curve of her waist, then dipping lower to cup the soft swell of her hips.
He deepened the kiss, a possessive, consuming claim, wanting to mark her as his.
His lips, warm and seeking, slid from the softness of her mouth, tracing a path down to the delicate hollow of her throat.
There, a kiss lingered, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver through her as he felt the frantic thump-thump-thump of her pulse beneath his lips.
She leaned back against the window as he continued his descent.
His mouth found the swell of her breasts, then the intriguing dip of her navel, his journey punctuated by soft sighs from her lips.
He knelt before her, the rough texture of his stubble brushing against her skin.
His nose nuzzled into her core, inhaling her unique, intoxicating scent.
A tentative flick of his tongue tasted her essence before a bolder plunge followed, a rhythmic dance of thrust and withdrawal, tasting the sweet, salty nectar he elicited.
He felt the tremor in her legs, a delicious weakness that threatened to buckle her, and his hands rose instinctively, cupping her ass, a firm anchor to steady her trembling form.
Her hands tangled in his hair, fingers lacing in the strands.
The shuddering of her legs increased as he felt her fingers dig into his scalp.
A low, breathy groan escaped her lips, sounding like his name.
He brought a hand around and stuck two fingers inside her.
She clenched them tightly as he thrust them in and out.
His tongue flicked her bundle of nerves over and over.
Then she screamed his name, and her legs gave out.
He let her sink into his arms, her body collapsing against his, as the orgasm rocked her.
He guided her legs around his waist. Then he lifted her and moved towards the wall. His palm found a faint, almost invisible seam in the cool stone behind his desk. With a soft click and the low grind of hidden mechanisms, a section of the stone wall slid inward, revealing a private chamber.
Alaios stepped through the narrow, hidden doorway, carrying Lyra into the cool, silent seclusion of the hidden room. The wall hissed shut behind them, cutting off all sound and light from the outer office, sealing them away.
He didn’t set her down. Instead, he turned, his body moving with the powerful, unhesitating grace of a god who knew exactly what he wanted.
He carried her deeper into the hidden chamber until he reached a massive bed tucked into a deep alcove.
It was covered in dark, heavy furs and black silk.
He lowered himself onto the furs. Lyra was still securely held against him, their bodies falling onto the bed with a deep, resonant creak of the ancient wood frame beneath them.
He positioned her over him, her softness nuzzling his hardness.
His hands immediately found her skin, gliding across her back, tracing every curve and dip with a desperate need, as if mapping a territory he had been denied for too long.
His mouth claimed hers once more. On his tongue were the remnants of her, a sweet, potent drug he couldn’t get enough of, and on her tongue he tasted the coffee she had.
His hardness, pulsing, nudged against her slick warmth.
She was ready for him, a low, needy moan escaping her throat.
He didn’t hesitate; he buried himself in her with one deep, consuming thrust. Lyra cried out, the sound swallowed by the deep, primal rhythm he immediately adopted.
He grabbed her hips, lifting her higher, pulling her deeper onto his length; the friction and fullness driving her toward the edge almost instantly.
She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, gripping him, demanding more of the consuming pleasure.
His mouth found her ear, his breath ragged, and he whispered, “You are my chaos, Lyra. My beautiful chaos.” The words were a catalyst, and the final, exquisite pressure hit, pulling a sharp, raw gasp from her lips as a blinding climax seized her.
He followed moments later, his body shaking with the force of his release, his face buried against the curve of her neck.