Chapter 29 The Garden and the Breach #2
He stroked her with his tongue, slow and relentless, not just for her pleasure but to savor every drop of wetness, every noise, every gasp, devouring her as though she were the only thing worth worshiping in the realm.
Ella arched, a broken sound punching from her chest, her fingers tangling hard in his hair as if anchoring herself to the only thing keeping her alive.
When he pulled back, it was only to watch her wrecked against the grass, her breasts rising and falling, her peaked nipples visible through the thin fabric that clung damp to her skin.
He dragged his mouth up her stomach, rising slowly until he reached her chest where he tore the neckline wider with his teeth until one breast spilled free into the cool garden air, biting the hardened peak before kissing it softly.
He freed the next one and gently bit it too before swirling his tongue over it and sucking it into his mouth, eliciting a small gasp.
He pulled back to watch her expression, hoping he would see that exact look on her face when he buried himself inside her, when she shattered around his cock.
“Look at me,” he growled, voice rough with command.
Ella’s eyes fluttered open, wide and dark, and she met his gaze through the uneven rise of her panting breath.
Power surged through his chest at her obedience, a rush that made his veins burn, her scent intensifying as her eyes reflected the same dark desire he recognized within himself.
Moonlight caught on her bare skin, accentuating her exquisite curves, begging to be tasted.
He lowered himself again, settling between her thighs, his tongue relentlessly circling her clit, devouring her as if the sounds she made were the only air he had left to breathe.
Moving his attention lower, his tongue dragged down to her entrance, thumb pulsing on the sensitive spot to replace his tongue and keep her writhing with the tension.
He pushed in deeper with his tongue, tasting her more intimately, groaning against her as she trembled, the vibration sinking deep.
The garden reacted in waves—roses trembling, petals loosening into the air, the hedge behind her pulsing like something alive.
He savored every tremor he drew from her, and the night itself seemed to bend, the world narrowing to the ragged rhythm of her breath and the dark, desperate devotion in every movement of his mouth.
He’d never licked anyone like this, never wanted to.
Desperate, rough, like the sight of her melting beneath him and her nails dragging across his skin could sate him for a lifetime. It would never be enough.
Ella’s legs trembled against his jaw, rocking her hips against his face.
He watched every wave of pleasure hit her, captivated by her blissful surrender, the taste of her slickened core crashing over him like summer lightning—wild, sweet, unmistakably hers.
He chased it with the hunger of a starving man who had finally found what he’d been dying for.
She arched, crying his name, and he almost spent himself just from the way she gave herself to him in that moment.
“Fuck, Jake. That was—” she whimpered.
Her legs slid down from his shoulders as he dragged his mouth higher, pressing his hardness along her body as he moved, making sure she felt what her undoing had done to him.
Their kiss was messy, desperate, and charged with anticipation.
Her mouth tasted like his salvation, and it carried the mark she had just left on him, proof that she’d come undone just for him. Only for him.
“You taste so fucking good.” He groaned, thrusting his hips toward her. “I need more. Come apart for me again, Ella.”
His cock pressed hard against her thigh, aching for release, and his voice came ragged, harsh against her lips. “I want to feel all of you.”
She nodded, likely too far gone to form words, and that broke something in him all over again.
His breath came in heavy pulls, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the fight to hold back or the need to take every last inch of her until she could never forget what he’d done to her body.
He kissed down the line of her throat, across her shoulder, biting at her collarbone before claiming her mouth again.
“Fuck,” he hissed when he pulled back, realizing too late that he had broken skin. A single drop of blood welled, hot and bright, and when it touched his tongue it was sweet iron, sharp as her. He was too far gone to feel the warning beneath his skin.
The world ripped sideways. The ripple burst with violent force, air splitting like torn cloth, reality shrieking as if it had been wounded. Jakobav recoiled back on his knees, the taste of her blood still searing his tongue.
The Veil flared open in the center of the garden for half a heartbeat, just long enough to see shadow shift and feel raw fury pour through. Roses blackened, petals curling inward as if retreating from what had dared step too close.
Then it snapped shut with a sound like a snarl ripped in half.
Jakobav dropped back down beside Ella, panting, vision reeling, his gaze wild on her as if she were the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Her hand clutched her chest, the Orchid tattoo beneath her collarbone glowing faintly, ink alive.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The air shivered, charged and wrong, the garden holding its breath with them as if waiting to see if something else would tear free of the dark.
Roses crackled softly, their blackened petals flaking.
Jakobav’s heart hammered in his throat, blood still thrumming with adrenaline.
Some vicious, primal part of him bared its teeth at the thought of anything else reaching for her. She was his to protect, and the idea of another force touching her magic made his vision burn.
If anything had stepped through that tear, he would have torn it apart with his bare hands before he let it lay a finger on her.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered.
“That wasn’t me,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “That was you.”
“No,” she shot back, shaking her head hard.
Ella’s hands were trembling. She pulled her dress back down, covering herself and adjusting the torn neckline. “I felt you pull my power. You created that ripple.”
Fuck, she was right.
But before he could answer, a horn split the night, urgent and too close.
Branches snapped, hedges parting, and Bryn stumbled into the clearing with leaves in his hair and his coat askew. He froze.
“Didn’t think you were the gardening type, Jake,” Bryn said slowly, eyes sweeping over the wreckage.
“Guess I was wrong.” He grinned like the bastard he was.
“Ten out of ten for spectacle. Two out of ten for the damage you just caused to a five-hundred-year-old sacred garden. And gods”—his nose wrinkled theatrically—“you reek. Like a rotflower tonic left out in the sun.”
Jakobav pushed to his feet, breath still uneven from the breach, instinct rising faster than reason.
He reached down and offered his hand. Ella accepted it, and he pulled her steadily to her feet. She smoothed the fabric of her dress with shaking hands, cheeks still slightly flushed, trying to make herself whole again.
Without thinking, he stepped in front of her to give her the space she needed, a moment of dignity in the aftermath.
With his attention locked on Bryn, Jakobav reached back and found her wrist, his fingers closing around her.
His thumb brushed over her pulse once, steadying her, telling her what he couldn’t voice in front of anyone else.
I’ve got you. Then, without looking away from Bryn, he said evenly, “Close your eyes, Bryn.”
Bryn arched a brow. “Bit late for modesty, don’t you think?”
Another horn blared, closer this time, the sound slicing through the garden’s heavy air. Instinct forced Jakobav’s attention to the horizon, the hairs along his arms rising in warning.
“Outer ward breach. By the gate,” Bryn said, amusement fading into focus, though the leaves still clung to his hair. “And whatever the two of you just did, don’t ever make me smell it again.”
Ella scoffed. “We’ll add it to your growing list of complaints, Bryn.” She tugged free of Jakobav’s hand and dropped into a crouch, snatching Thane’s blade from where it lay in the dirt. In one efficient motion, she strapped it back to her waist.
First the ripple in the garden and now a breach within minutes—too much of a coincidence to ignore.
“Let’s move.” Jakobav’s voice dropped to command, and the three of them ran.