Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Iknow I should sleep, but I can’t. I’m drunk on the way I feel—worshipped and cherished and used and a million other romance-novel words that don’t do justice to the way my entire body seems to hum with passion and joy and love.
And, honestly, how can I sleep with the feel of this man against my skin making every cell inside me tingle?
I’ve made out with only one other guy—a groping session of hickeys and French kisses after a mixer at that hideous boarding school.
The guy was my roommate’s brother, and we’d been flirty-friends for over a year.
And then there was forbidden wine. It got a bit hot and heavy, but we didn’t seal the deal.
The whole thing felt blandly transactional and left me wondering what all the fuss was about.
Now I know.
Tonight wasn’t even remotely transactional. Tonight was transcendent.
“You’re still awake,” he whispers.
“Guilty.” I roll over to face him. “I really did try to fall asleep,” I tell him. “The idea is so sexy, you know? Falling asleep in your lover’s arms.” I watch his face and am rewarded by his grin when I say that word—lover. Honestly, I like the sound of it.
“It is sexy,” he says, stroking my hair. “And you do need sleep.”
“Except I don’t. My first class isn’t until after lunch.” I slide my hand over his bare chest, then lean in, planning to simply brush my lips over his. Instead, he pulls me close, capturing me with a kiss that is wild and deep and steals every coherent thought from my head.
I grab his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more of this—more of him.
I haven’t had a bit of alcohol today, but I feel drunk on this man.
On the way he touches me. On the heat building between us again, now raging like wildfire.
On the fact that Chase—the golden-eyed warrior who saved me from a nightmare made flesh when I was just fifteen, and a whole lot of sand monsters later—wants me as desperately as I want him.
This man—who has literally seen everything, who exists on a cosmic scale I can barely comprehend, and who could have anyone or anything—chose me.
It’s pretty freaking mind-boggling.
“Cora,” he murmurs against my neck, and the reverence in his voice makes heat pool low in my belly. His hands slide down my sides, and everywhere he touches burns. “I just had you, and now it feels like I’ll die if I can’t have you again. Right now.”
“I know,” I say. “Me too.”
“You’re sure?” His eyes rake over me, assessing. “You’re not too sore?”
I feel my cheeks heat, then arch up to claim his mouth, mine hot and demanding. “On the contrary,” I murmur when I pull back. “I need to feel you.”
He makes a sound low in his throat, almost a growl, and then his mouth is on my neck, teeth grazing as I arch into him, my fingers tangling in his hair while he kisses his way down until his lips close over my breast, his tongue doing things that make me more than a little crazy.
“God, Chase—”
“I love the way you say my name,” he murmurs against my skin, his hands everywhere, making me moan and beg. “Say it again.”
I try, but it comes out as a whimper when his hand slides between my thighs, fingers teasing until I’m writhing beneath him.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Actually, yes,” I say, laughing since I can feel exactly what I’m doing to him hard against my thigh, and that sense of power sends another rush of heat through me.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s moving down my body, kissing and tasting until I’m writhing with need.
“I want to taste you,” he says, his breath hot against my inner thigh. “To know every part of you.”
Then his mouth is on me, and I cry out at the sensation. His tongue works magic, finding rhythms and pressures that have me fisting the sheets, my hips rising to meet him. He holds me steady with strong hands, pinning me in place as he devours me like I’m the only sustenance he needs.
When I come again, it’s harder, sharper, and I’m boneless with pleasure by the time he kisses his way back up my body.
“Perfect,” he murmurs against my mouth, and I can taste myself on his lips. “You’re absolutely perfect.”
I reach between us, wrapping my hand around him, and he groans, his hips jerking into my touch. He’s hard and hot in my palm, and the knowledge that this is all for me—that I’ve driven him to this—makes me bold.
“I need you again,” I whisper, guiding him to where I’m wet and ready. “Please, Chase. I need to feel you.”
He positions himself at my entrance, pausing to look into my eyes. “Cora,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “You are my everything.”
I tremble. From the words, from his touch. “Yeah,” I say. “I know the feeling.”
He takes me faster this time. Harder. And I writhe against him, my hands on his ass, wanting more.
Everything. Deeper. Wanting to never be apart again.
Wanting this wild sensation that’s twisting through me to never end, except it finally does, throwing me into an explosive whirlwind so intense it feels like the universe has shifted.
Considering who I’m in bed with, maybe it has.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, both breathing hard. His hand traces lazy patterns on my skin, and I feel completely undone. Transformed.
“Cora.” He shifts to look at me, brushing damp hair from my face with such tenderness it makes my throat tight. “Are you okay? Really?”
I nod, curling closer against him, because I’m more than okay. I’m warm and loved and safe. I’m his. Truly. And the biggest part of that miracle?
He’s mine now too.
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words inadequate for everything I’m feeling.
He frowns. “For what?”
“For this. For wanting me. For—” I can’t finish, emotion clogging my throat.
“Cora.” My name is reverent on his lips. He cups my face, his golden eyes holding mine. “You don’t need to thank me for taking what I’ve craved. For finally having what I thought I could never have.”
The intensity in his voice, the raw need—it’s almost too much. Almost feels like those three words I’m not ready to say, even if part of me already knows.
He kisses me then, slow and deep, and I taste everything he’s not saying. Whatever comes next—the prophecy, Adric, all the truths he needs to tell me—we’ll face it together.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs, pulling me close. “Sleep here. In my arms.”
I curl into him, pressing my face against his chest, where I can feel his heartbeat. The emotional whiplash of the night and the overwhelming newness of everything are finally catching up to me. But more than that, I feel safe. Cherished. Home.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, but I don’t return the words. Instead, I snuggle closer and close my eyes, remembering the kiss with Adric, and wondering if I’m now in completely over my head.
I don’t recall falling asleep again, though I must have. It’s still dark, but there’s a different edge to the quiet, as if the whole city is sleeping. As if the mares have taken the night off as a personal favor to me.
“Hey,” Chase whispers, rolling to spoon against me, his hand cupping my breast as his thumb teases my nipple.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he says, and something in his tone makes me roll over so that I’m facing him. He lifts a brow, his hand now sliding down my back to stroke lazily over my rear.
I lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “What’s on your mind, cowboy?”
He chuckles. “How well you already know me.”
“Do I?”
He returns the kiss, his lips brushing my eyebrow. “It’s nothing.”
I draw in a breath. “It was just a kiss,” I say. “He drew me there—to his library. I came here, remember? To you.”
Mischief dances on his lips. “And for me,” he says, making my cheeks burn.
“Yeah, well, that too.”
He flashes a playful grin, his hand now teasing along my spine, making me want. Making me need. “You did,” he says, his tone turning serious. “And yet…” He trails off with a shake of his head.
“What?”
At first, he says nothing, and I think I’m going to have to push.
“I can’t help it,” he finally says. “I don’t like that he kissed you.”
I lift a brow. “No? Because I have to admit, this you-being-jealous thing is kind of flattering. In a manipulative high school kind of way.”
As I’d hoped, the corner of his mouth curves up. I meant what I said—the jealousy thing isn’t cool. And yet at the same time, the fact that both these men are hot for me is ridiculously, seriously amazing. I mean, I’ve never even had a real boyfriend. Now two dream men—literally—both want me.
Maybe that makes me shallow, but I can’t deny that their attention is one hell of a boost for my ego.
“—selling you.”
“Selling? What?”
His brows rise. “Where were you?”
“I plead the Fifth.”
“Uh-huh…”
“Fine. It’s just that you’re a really good kisser, okay? If this is supposed to be class time, then fewer kisses and more clothes are in order.”
“In that case, the bell just rang. School’s out.”
“Good,” I say, snuggling against him. “But you said something about selling. What were you talking about?”
I tilt my head up, and he kisses my forehead before answering. “I don’t like the bullshit he’s trying to sell you. This he’s-all-about-saving-the-world thing. That’s his fucked-up view of reality. And my so-not-a-pacifist brother is working damn hard to tear down our reality.”
“Are you sure? I mean, the last time you had a conversation with him was when? About the time Caesar was crossing the Rubicon? So you don’t really know.
” I twist to see his face, and what I find there isn’t anger.
It’s tired and sad and achingly familiar, like a man watching a storm roll in that he’s seen a thousand times before.
“I’ve talked to him,” I say. “He’s passionate about balance and unifying the realms. It’s not evil.”
He cups my cheek. “You’re being na?ve.”
I try to pull back, but he holds me close. “I’m not,” I insist.
He runs his fingers through my hair. “I assure you that evil doesn’t self-identify. Evil beings don’t twirl their mustaches and cackle. They are the heroes of their story.”