Chapter 26
The sound he makes is pure animal.
His arms move around me, crushing me against him. So close I feel each rise and fall of his chest. Can hear the sturdy thump of his heart, his throaty rumbles making my abdomen grow tight and tingly.
The heaviness within me begins to loosen, replaced by a warmth that flares beneath my ribs, each tender shift of our mouths untangling me from the rage of fear.
From the panic of thinking he was going to die this dae.
That I was going to fail this beautiful male who gives so much more than he ever takes.
But he’s here. Safe.
Alive.
He moves his hands to the side of my face, prying us apart just enough to look me in the eyes—the famished devotion in his ruining me. Because that look … It’s a fierce reminder that his words stand true.
That he values my life above his own and nothing I say or do will convince him otherwise. Not even my threat to wreck the world in his absence.
“Creators, you infuriate me.”
“Because you love me,” he murmurs, the faintest smile pulling at his lips when I don’t agree.
Don’t disagree.
He presses us together again, groans into my mouth as I thread my fingers through his beard and kiss him like he’s breath, becoming achingly aware that I’ve been suffocating since our lips last met.
Starving myself of his robust scent; of the feel of his rough hands moving across my skin, kneading my softness.
Like he’s checking to see I’m still real.
He grips the back of my thighs with a sturdy confidence that scatters my pulse, spreads my legs, and lifts me. Keeps our bodies fused as he strides toward the pallet and sits, my knees settling on either side of his lap.
And I feel him … there. Stone hard against my vulnerable core, igniting a heat that spreads through my ligaments like the warm roots of a tree.
Weaving down.
I roll my hips, grinding our bodies together in deep sways that do nothing to satiate the sensation, instead spurring it into a molten blaze. Not helped when he takes the weight of my breast and grazes his thumb across my pebbled nipple, sending a swarm of pleasure through my nerves.
I groan, head falling back, chest pushing forward.
A silent beg for more.
He drops his head and dapples kisses across my clavicle, over the swell of my breast, his warm breath moving through the thin material covering me.
An agonizing tease.
“This damn shirt,” I groan, ripping it open. Buttons pop as I spill free, urging him forward again.
He makes a deep throaty sound and takes my nipple in his mouth, working it into a tighter peak. Muddying my thoughts into a delirious churn with each luscious swirl of his tongue.
“Watching you row that fucking boat toward those jingling bells almost broke me,” I blurt, the words spilling without buffer—raw and unchecked. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
“I know,” he rumbles against my breast, trailing kisses up the line of my throat, just behind my ear. “I know, Moonbeam.”
Not a promise.
Not a blunt rebuttal.
Just soft understanding to absorb my blow, something that pumps me full of raging need.
My muscles tighten, tendons stretching. I clash against him, kissing him with all the fear and anger exploding beneath my skin, that spot between my legs now throbbing with a destructive ache. Like a flame about to burn the world to bits if it’s not extinguished.
“And that fucking rune,” I snarl, reaching between us to rip at the fastenings on my pants. Catching his hand, I urge him down—edging up just enough to allow him better access to push past my undergarments.
His responding growl is more beast than fae.
“That fucking rune,” he echoes, sliding his fingers over that nub of nerves. Parting.
Spreading.
When he rubs around it again, he’s so wet with me that every slow swirl threatens to tip me over the edge, all the ligaments low in my belly pulled taut enough to fray.
“While we’re on the topic,” I pant, hands in his hair as I tilt my hips, making it easy for him to delve deeper. “You should know, I battled a Tri-Councilor while you were being dragged from the Citadel. And unfortunately ran out of time to pulverize his lungs.”
Just.
He sighs.
Rather than push me full like I so desperately want, he pulses his fingers at my wet and throbbing entrance, teasing me into a desperate frenzy. “They’ll be slapping both our faces on wanted posters—”
“And it’ll be the death of them.”
He snarls, his spare hand tangling with my hair, gently tugging until my gaze is cast on the ceiling, offering him free access to rove kisses across my neck.
It’s a devastating combo—holding me in a pleasurable knot while he wreaks havoc on my pulsing nerves. Until I’m a writhing mess of bottled tension, desperate to explode.
“Even you can’t suffocate them all,” he growls against my flesh.
Fucking watch me.
Overcome with the rabid urge to open my mouth against his throat and show him exactly how feral I can be, I’m about to rip my hair from his hold when he pushes his fingers into me, obliterating my primal rage in one smooth stroke.
I almost buckle with relief, a deep groan moving up my throat as he works me in slow, tender thrusts, finally loosening his hold on my hair. Allowing me the freedom to kiss him.
Adore him.
“Unfortunately for … them and anyone … else who threatens your existence,” I pant against his lips, rolling my hips to meet his languid beat and chase that hungry throb, “there’s nothing that … spurs me more than … being underestimated.”
“Is that so?”
Yes.
“They come for … you or The Burn … I’ll fucking … decimate them.”
“Oh, Moonbeam. I do not doubt it.”
He sounds about as thrilled by my admission as I was about catching a ride across the Boltanic Plains in Rygun’s mouth.
Zero percent.
“You’re awfully vocal for being so wet and swollen,” he rumbles, pulling his fingers out to massage me in tender sweeps. My cheeks burn in the wake of his words. “Perhaps I ought to try harder?”
“Don’t … overexert yourself—”
He’s up, lifting me.
My legs wrap around his waist for only a beat before he flops me onto my back and spreads me across the furs. Punches one hand into the pallet beside my head and perches over me like a mighty Creator given flesh—muscles bulging as he works me into a rolling, moaning, unintelligible mess.
The look of him, the smell of him, the feel of his fingers moving inside me … it’s enough to melt me into a wanton puddle. Certain beyond question that this is right. That he and I were built to fit together.
Two parts of a whole.
The thought breaks the banks of a river that was barely holding shape to begin with, my core clamping down as a wild throb rakes me through. As I tip, clawing at him. Falling over a soul-shattering peak that threatens to split me into a million pliant pieces.
All the while, he kisses me with ravenous devotion, absorbing my whimpers as pleasure ratchets through me, rubbing the last of my climax from that plump coil of nerves.
My body turns to melted butter, his smile one of carnal satisfaction.
He pulls back, on his knees between my spread legs. The epitome of rugged beauty, wearing eyes that flush me with a fresh, feverish heat.
“I hope you don’t think you’re done, Sire …”
Because I almost watched you die this dae. More than once. And I need you inside me more than I need breath.
I don’t say the words aloud, but gather he sees the gist of them in my eyes based on the gravelly sound he makes.
He leans forward to kiss the tip of my nose … my jaw … the prickling flesh down the side of my neck. “You’ll know when I’m done, Moonbeam.” His words skitter across my skin, pebbling it. “You’ll feel it all the way to your bones.”
My body tides in the wake of his words, insatiable.
Aching.
He gathers my torn shirt up to my waist. Plants a kiss on my hip bone that sends another zap through my core, nudging my delicates down far enough he’s able to give the same lavish attention to the crease between my hip and thigh.
All the while, he fiddles with the buckle on my left sheath, loosening it, the weight landing amongst the furs.
My entire body trembles with anticipation.
I lift a leg and nudge it against him while I wrestle with my other sheath. A quiet request to begin unlacing my boots so I can get these fucking pants down.
His low laugh is a roll of stones. “You have the patience of a broody dragon.”
I toss the second sheath aside. “Not even close,” I grind out as he starts easing the tension on the crisscross of ties, his fingers working so slow I’m tempted to grab a blade and slice them free myself. But they’re good boots.
Comfortable boots.
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots, my core throbbing against nothing. With a frustrated groan, I thrash my head to the side, watching snow drift past the mosiac windowpane in swirling clumps.
My gaze slides to a blue shard as another tie is eased, the swishing sound loosening something within me. A sense of déjà vu that makes me feel … uncomfortable.
Wrong.
Suddenly, I can’t pull my gaze from that shard of blue. From the swirling snow beyond, certain I’m not sprawled beneath the male I trust and respect with my entire mutilated heart. But somewhere cold and dark, with black walls and a pearl-pocked sky just beyond that windowpane.
Somewhere … familiar.
Another tug and I’m …
I—
I count the snowflakes landing on the balustrade outside, distracting myself from the male unlacing my ceremonial boots. Though not enough to shuck the scrape of his leer from my skin, my teeth sinking deeper into my tongue with each knot loosened.
I wish it were his hands loosening my laces.
Kaan’s.
But this is how it has to be. I have to be small. Quiet.
Keep my mind void.
My hands fist the furs sprawled across the pallet beneath me. All I can do to prevent myself from scratching the skin from my bones. From punching a hole in my chest so I can crush my aching heart.
This is wrong.
Wrong.
WRONG—