Chapter 24
I wake up and the sun is already high. I panic, thinking I’ve overslept and Kieran has once again left me alone, slipping out like smoke while I was dreaming of him.
But I turn and find him sleeping soundly next to me, arms dragging me back into his hold without even opening his eyes, like the sound of me turning stirred him up but he refuses to move just yet.
He’s still here.
Still mine.
Still naked.
I can’t resist the urge to curl up against him, our skin brushing, his breath ghosting over my forehead, warm and steady like my own beating heart.
As much as I would like to stay like this all day … “Gorgeous,” I whisper, gently tapping his cheek. “I think you may have skipped work today.”
Kieran hums, tucking his face in my dark hair sprawling on the pillow. “Let’s just call in sick.”
I chuckle.
Right, because the three-hundred-and-sixty-year-old King of the Fallen is lovesick in bed after a long night with his girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Am I his girlfriend?
I don’t even care, as long as I have him.
“You seemed so busy all week, and now you can suddenly be free,” I say—meant to sound casual, but it lands with an edge. Kieran’s eyes flutter open. He blinks slowly.
“Don’t do that, please,” he murmurs. “Let’s not fight first thing in the morning. I already promised you I wouldn’t do it again.”
I sigh.
“I’m sorry. But you should still get up.”
“Why?” Kieran drawls, tucking me into his chest even tighter now.
“Because you’ve got work, and I don’t want your Court to hate me more than they already do.”
“Come on, nobody hates you,” he mumbles into my hair, stroking it as if to say I’m silly.
“Aurora does.”
His hand stops mid-stroke. “Aurora is … Aurora.”
I’ve never heard of a better description of the High Curator of Ceremonies.
She’s definitely special—not just because of her beautiful face or gracious walk, but the respect and attention she commands. The kind of Fae who makes you feel like the dress you wear because you think it’s beautiful was made from threads of muddy hay just by standing next to her.
“I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Well, she can get … possessive, when it comes to me.”
I frown. “Does she still love you?”
“Who knows?” Kieran throws one arm up in the air, then runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if she’s been unpleasant to you. The truth is, she’s rarely ever nice to other females.”
While that might be true, I still think she hates me.
I look up at Kieran, curiosity getting the better of me. “You were with her for a decade. Why did you split up?”
Kieran sighs. “On second thought, I think I prefer fighting to talking about my ex.”
Of course he does.
“Why? Did she break your heart?” I press. They seem to still be civil, or at least professional at work—most of the time.
“I understand why you want to know, but can we please not talk about other people in bed?”
I clamp my mouth shut.
Fair enough.
“All I’m going to say is … we broke up because Aurora wanted more. She wanted me to become King,” he admits at last. My eyes widen. “And she’d be Queen. But I didn’t want it—becoming King or marrying her—so I ended it.”
Damn.
That’s … unexpected.
But Aurora as Queen would have been stunning. I picture a shimmering crown on her head as she wears one of those pretty gowns she wears everyday—she’d make a star look dull like a rock.
Thank Gods he said no.
“Since I’ve already started answering questions, anything else you want to know?”
I arch a brow, then roll on top of him.
His hands immediately wander like they know every bit of my body—which they probably do, considering how he basically mapped me out with them last night.
I can’t stop the stupid smile trying to escape me. “I want breakfast at Cassiopeia. Then, I want to go back to the Court, and before you say no, just remember what leaving me here for a week did to me. I need to see people. I need to go outside and have some normality.”
Kieran blinks at me, quiet for a minute, then exhales like he’s surrendered. “Fine. you can go back to the Court, but you’re not staying there. We come back here at night. And my people will keep an eye on you when I’m not around … well, from a distance at least.”
“Fine.” That’s a compromise I’m willing to take.
Besides, who’d say no to sleeping in the same bed with him, especially when you never know which night will be your last.
“As for breakfast, I have a better idea …” His hands find my hips, sliding down to cup my ass, and he squeezes it, firm, greedy. I bite my lip, feeling him grow rock solid beneath me. “Something you can eat before we go down to the café.”
I tilt my head. “Is that so?”
The corner of his mouth curves up to a smirk. “Only if you want to.”
It’s so attractive every time Kieran puts me first, not the aching want burning hot and obvious between us. Some men try to persuade you even though you have already said no. But not Kieran. He could easily press, and I would crumble like I’m made of sand.
But he respectfully waits.
Consent is so damn hot.
And it makes me want to do more than just eat him.
So, I lean down, brushing my lips on his, soft and gentle.
“Lie back,” I whisper.
Kieran obeys, his face amused. He tucks both arms underneath his head, anticipation flashing through his storm-lit eyes. Slowly, I trail a finger down his chest, feeling the shiver running through him.
Gods, he looks so fucking perfect, especially with those bedroom eyes and majestic wings spread lazily behind him.
Oh, the things I want to do to him.
I slide down his body, lips kissing, sucking a path across his warm, honeyed skin, as I listen to the quiet surrender in every breath he draws.
Kieran’s hand tangles in my hair—the hair he pulled last night.
The sensations, the images of it all are still burning in my mind.
I can feel the heat coiling in my own body.
I press a kiss to the sharp cut of his hip, then I move lower … kissing the tip and swirling my tongue just enough to make him growl. Then I take him in a slow, teasing stroke.
Kieran groans, head dropping back against the pillow, the same hand in my hair now burying deep in it.
“Cass,” he chokes out. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me.”
I pull back, licking my lips, wicked smile blooming. “I’m just getting started, my love.”
I don’t give him time to recover. I drag my tongue along the underside of him before taking him back into my mouth in one slick, hungry motion. Kieran swears viciously—a curse or a prayer? I have no idea, only wish he stayed vocal, because it’s so fucking hot I might actually explode.
His wings twitch, half unfurled now, tension rippling through every inch of him. I grip his thighs, holding him still, working him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck harder.
Meaner.
Messier.
“Mother of the stars,” he rasps, voice hoarse. “Keep going like that and I will—”
I moan around him.
That’s his last straw.
Kieran’s grip on my hair tightens and his wings fully flare out behind him, casting shadows across the bed like he’s something divine unravelling at the seams.
“Go on,” I pull off just to whisper. “Come for me.” Then I take him back, sucking, devouring him, deeper and harder.
And Gods, Kieran shatters—hard, broken, his jaw clenched and muscles drawn tight, his whole body trembling as I finish him off with cruel, punishing strokes of my tongue, and I’m already thinking of committing this vicious crime again just to see him come undone in the most beautiful way like that.
I don’t know what he did to me.
But this—seeing him lose control and cursing my name like a prayer—is all I’ll live for from now on.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes. “You’re never leaving this bed.”
I grin. “Is that a promise?”
Kieran pulls me up into a hungry, devouring kiss like he need to taste me just to breathe.
One hand grabs my ass, the other sliding between my thighs …
I let out a soft moan, sharp and needy, as his fingers slip inside me.
Slow. Deep. Curling into that slick, aching spot already throbbing for release.
“Get on your knees,” he demands.
Gods—that voice.
Give Kieran consent, and he’ll give me exactly what I need.
I obey.
I shift, turning over, baring myself to him—my palms sinking into the mattress, thighs parted, heart pounding.
Behind me, I hear a low, reverent curse under his breath.
Then his hands are on me, spreading me open, gripping me so mean I sigh into the pillow. His fingers return, slipping back inside me, slower this time, teasing me, savouring me. He fucks me with them for a few more strokes before pulling away completely.
The loss has me whimpering.
But then he replaces it with something much bigger—hot and heavy, his cock slides into me in one hard, unforgiving stroke.
And I scream.
My hands clutch the sheets. My body tenses around him, clutching him like it’s been holding its breath for this. He’s so deep inside me I can barely breathe from the need.
“Kieran,” I groan, my voice ragged.
“Yes, my love?” He presses his lips on my ear, purring softly. A hand slips between my legs, flicking over that sensitive bundle of nerves. I fall forward, moaning shamelessly into the pillow. “Tell me, what do you want me to do?”
Before I can answer, he pulls back—just to slam into me again so hard I’m seeing stars.
“I want you to do that again,” I whimper. “But faster—and don’t stop. Please, please, don’t stop.”
I can feel Kieran grinning behind me. He presses a kiss to the side of my neck. “Good girl.”
And the whole world fades away.
He grabs my hips, hard enough to bruise, and fucks me like his life depends on it. His cock pounds into me over and over, each thrust harder, hungrier, better than the last. I choke, screaming, crying in pleasure and pain, already chasing my climax, even though I don’t want to just yet.
“You like that?” he pants, fingers brushing my sensitive part again.
“Yes,” I sob, clenching the sheets, drowning in desperation. “Yes—Kieran.”
He growls, rubbing my clit in hard, ruthless circles whilst he keeps thrusting, deep and brutal.
My thighs are shaking. Everything is blurry. I’m an absolute wreck.
And then I’m gone.
It hits me like a storm, violent and blinding, tearing through every inch of me as I scream into the pillow, convulsing around him.
Holy fuck.
I don’t know what day it is.
Where I am.
Or how to speak.
I lose the ability to breathe. To make sense of things.
And Kieran is still chasing his own climax—his rhythm turns wild, erratic.
And then—
A fucking knock on the door.
“Kieran,” a voice calls through.
Kieran groans like he’s about to bite someone’s head off—and I think he is.
“Whatever the fuck it is, come back in five minutes,” he shouts, still buried deep, still thrusting—I scream before I can stop myself.
Holy shit.
“Sorry, but we’ve been waiting for you for an hour,” the voice says—sharp and clearly annoyed.
My brain lags for a second, still catching up to reality. Then the voice clicks.
Gods—that’s Virgil.
I don’t have time to think before another moan tears out of me because Kieran refuses to stop.
Kieran growls, voice feral. “The wait won’t kill you, but I swear to Gods, I fucking will.”
I don’t hear anything else but the filthy sound of Kieran pounding into me, skin on skin. My breath hitches. I try to stifle the scream building in my throat, but Kieran slides a hand to my neck, holding me upright. His other hand cups my breast, rough and possessive.
I’m gone again.
My sensible thoughts vanish beneath a cry I can’t contain. I collapse forward onto the bed. Kieran snarls behind me, driving in deep one last time, and shatters with a broken, raw groan, spilling inside me, hot and thick, pulsing in waves that drip down my thighs.
I can’t move. I can’t think.
Kieran slumps over me, panting against my back, fingers digging into my hips like he’s holding on to dear life.
Oh. My. Fucking. Gods.
When he finally pulls out, Kieran presses a kiss on my shoulder and whispers, “As much as I would like to stay in bed forever, I need to go take care of that.”
I roll over, running a hand down my face. “Gods—and now Virgil knows.”
“So?” He grins, unbothered. “Why don’t you get ready? I’ll pick you up in an hour, then we can go to Cassiopeia.”
I bite my lip, so in love with him it might actually kill me. “What about work?”
“I gave them everything for centuries. They can last one afternoon without me,” Kieran says, kissing me softly, lingering. “It’s a date.”
A smile blooms from me, my heart fluttering like he just said he loved me. “Promise?”
“Always,” he replies.
Always.
Forever.
As short as that may be.