Chapter 36 #3
‘Please,’ I gasped.
‘As a matter of fact,’ he murmured, almost conversationally, ‘I don’t think I will.’
The pressure vanished.
And before I could stop him – before I could grab him and bodily drag him back to me – he sank to his knees in the hot water.
His mouth was on me the next moment, hot and wet and merciless – his mouth, that smart, lethally sarcastic mouth, on me, and the thought alone was almost enough to send me over the edge again.
His tongue slid into me. Drinking deep, then dragging a slow, deliberate line from my slit to the sensitive bundle of nerves above – not stopping even when I wrapped my legs around his shoulders and dug my fingers into his scalp, or even when I managed a strangled, ‘Don’t you dare—'
He nibbled.
He fucking nibbled.
I could only hope Jay and Rook had run far, far away, because my shriek had to reach every living ear for miles.
He made a low, approving sound against me. ‘Complaints?’
‘You’ll kill me.’ It didn’t seem too remote a possibility. ‘I’m serious. I’ll die. I‘ll—’
The warm brush of his laughter was unbearable on my aching flesh. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get you back.’
‘You can’t just— Oh, hell.’
He’d licked me again, far, far too lightly for my high-strung nerves – a parody of tenderness that amounted to cruel and deliberate torture.
And again. And again, until I was babbling incoherently and he had to pin my hips to the stone to keep me from bucking against him – his tongue circling and teasing with a meticulous focus that was almost scientific, exploring every line and crease to find the exact spot that made me howl.
Then he stayed there, relentless, until even my cries ran out and I could do nothing but lie and let sensation wash over me – until my second climax rose, not sharp and sudden but dragged from me like the gathering tide.
The surge knocked the breath from my lungs for a gasping, shuddering eternity.
My body was empty when I came back to myself, lying on my back on the warm, smooth stone. Wrung out, scraped bare, and still, still that insatiable hunger roared within me.
‘Dead,’ I mumbled, giddily.
‘Are you?’ He nudged my legs off his shoulders with nimble fingers, then rose and hooked them around his hips. His lips were flushed and wet. Flushed and wet with my pleasure. ‘Regrettable. I’m about to make it worse.’
I was no longer a flesh and blood creature.
I was made up of gasps and need and aching void, and every last ripple of awareness left in me snapped to attention the moment the blunt head of his cock brushed against my slit again – because this was going to hurt, of course it was, but hell below, it was going to be worth it …
‘Thraga.’ His soft voice cut through the haze. ‘Eyes on me.’
I gasped.
I came up on my shaking, slipping elbows again.
The look on his face … a wild animal held back by fraying chains.
Watching me as if I was all that stood between him and starvation, the last scrap of prey left in a desolate world – and it dawned on me, a shocking flash of insight through the haze of my thoughts, that the prince of broken hearts was chasing oblivion as much as I was tonight.
Losing himself in control and single-minded focus.
Me, here, keeping him tethered – eyes on me.
Not a command.
A request.
I held his gaze as he took hold of my hips. As he paused, waited for my nod, then finally, finally pushed forward.
Slow, silky pressure slid into me, inch by devastating inch.
Filling me entirely. Stretching me open, so relentlessly that I struggled to even breathe around his slow advance …
and yet the pain I’d braced for didn’t come.
No burning friction. No tearing stretch.
Just magnificent fullness, and more fullness, and even more fullness as he sank deeper still, until at last all of him was sheathed within me and I thought I might come apart at the seams.
I’d known it would feel good.
I hadn’t realised it could be nothing but good.
Durlain’s jaw was tight with the effort of his restraint, his breath coming in measured exhales into the space between us. But he didn’t move as I adjusted, as I gasped shallow gasps and tried to wrap my head around it – all hell-knew-how-many inches of him, inside me.
‘Good?’ he muttered, and it was a question, not a prompt.
‘So good.’ I struggled to sit up, dizzy with the need to get my fingers on his wet, scarred chest. My voice was breathless, my mind a blissful void.
Had I been fighting him? I didn’t want to fight anymore.
I just wanted him to take over and give me more, wanted this onslaught of sensation that left no room for thoughts or fears or anything else. ‘Doesn’t … doesn’t hurt. At all.’
He sucked in a sharp breath.
I blinked, fingers stiffening. ‘Dur?’
‘Nothing.’ He cupped my backside, pressed his lips to the hollow of my neck. ‘I might have to kill some people, that’s all. Later.’
‘Not now, please,’ I managed, lightheaded, not quite sure what he was on about and not quite caring, either. ‘I need more of this. Very much. Please.’
‘I know, sweetling,’ he said quietly, shifting me slightly on the stone.
His voice was so low. So low and so safe.
It seemed the only thing left in the world to care about – his voice and his hands and the glorious, mindboggling intrusion of his cock inside me.
‘And you’re getting exactly what you need, I promise. Can you take it?’
‘Everything,’ I breathed, digging my nails into his back and feeling him twitch inside me. It felt like the unequivocal truth. ‘I can take everything.’
‘Then you’re getting everything.’ His hand curled beneath my chin, making me meet his gaze. Slowly, as slowly as he’d entered me, he slid out again and murmured, ‘I don’t know how I ever thought I could give you anything less.’
I gasped.
He thrust into me.
My body arched all but off the floor as he filled me in one endless stroke – a shock of pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.
A wordless cry tore from my throat. My nails carved half-moons into his shoulders.
Already he was withdrawing again, the torturous drag of him stealing my breath before he drove back in with equal force – fucking me in a deep, merciless rhythm that demanded instant and utter capitulation.
This was surrender.
This was surrender, and at long last, he was surrendering, too – Durlain Averre, tight-leashed creature of ice and brambles, finally losing himself to this raw, primal need between us.
No more restraint. No more control. His mouth met mine in a clash of tongue and teeth, lips swallowing my moans as he claimed me with powerful thrust after powerful thrust; my heels dug into the small of his back to urge him deeper, and the snarl he let out against my lips was more animal than human.
I was aware, faintly, of his ribbed horns under my fingers.
Of hot water splashing on my thighs. Of the impossible, unmistakable pressure tightening inside me yet again, building and building, until—
He slowed.
Incoherent curses poured over my lips as I clutched at his hips with white-knuckled hands, angling my body to take him in. I’d been so close. So, so close …
‘Thraga.’ His voice was a ragged, fraying thing. ‘Bad idea. Don’t let me—
‘Is alright,’ I gasped. ‘Magic. No Averre heirs, promise.’
He let out a strangled laugh … but he didn’t ask twice, didn’t pause before slamming back into me, every slender muscle tight with barely contained strength. ‘Bless your runes. Come for me, thorn of mine.’
My breath caught. ‘I can’t—'
‘Yes, you can.’ His fingers tightened on my hip. ‘One more time. I want to feel you shatter on my cock, now.’
Maybe it was the steel command in his voice.
Maybe it was his quickening pace, every stroke hitting that perfect spot inside me; maybe it was the devastating strength, his unwavering trust that I could take the worst of him.
He drove home one last time, and I blew apart around him – unable to see or hear or think a single thing as the mounting pressure inside me broke, as stars burst behind my eyes and my mind unravelled into blinding white pleasure.
All I still knew was his guttural groan against my throat. His fingers clawing into the small of my back throughout his own shuddering release.
Then there was just silence.
Arms around me, and silence.
Warm water enveloping me. Solid chest supporting me. Lips against my temple, lips against my forehead. Perfect, weightless bliss. I was safe. I was empty and euphoric, floating in the aftermath of all he’d made me feel, and I never wanted this moment to stop. Never wanted to open my eyes again.
‘Thraga,’ he whispered, voice rough at the edges.
His lips, shaping my name. I'd never heard anything so beautiful in my life.
‘Thraga.’ Beneath his ribs, his heartbeat was gradually slowing. ‘My perfect, precious thorn … As much as I want to hold you for the rest of the night, I really could do without those heirs.’
Oh.
Yes.
I groaned a half-articulated curse, blinking one eye open to make sure I wouldn’t aim my runes at his groin and render him infertile for life. Eihwaz, mannaz, othala, berkana, signed at my own pelvis. Death, body, having, birth.
‘The death rune?’ Durlain murmured as I dropped back against his chest. He sounded vaguely concerned.
‘Hmm.’ I rubbed my nose against his shoulder, smelling warm skin and dark roses. ‘Old witch tricks. Kjell taught me the formula the first time I bled.’
He gave a silent laugh. ‘I’m starting to like that man.’
I decided not to remind him he was singing the praises of a rebel witch who’d quite possibly been working to destroy the very throne he’d sworn to occupy one day.
The water was warm, and I was feeling drowsy and ecstatic, and damn it all, if he was glad to have me here, he should be thanking Kjell on his stupidly attractive knees.
Something close to a giggle escaped me.
Durlain’s arms tightened around me. ‘Thraga?’
‘Nothing,’ I mumbled, curling closer against him. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever thought about attractive knees before.’
‘Ah,’ he said, bemused.
I decided not to elaborate.
We stayed in the water a little longer, washing off sweat and seed, hands and lips wandering over skin as if they’d never done anything else.
Durlain carried me out. Towelled me dry.
His flames still burned tirelessly along the walls of the cave, keeping the cold night air out; by the time we wrapped ourselves into a shared bundle of blankets, his body was all smouldering heat against my bare back.
He was quiet as he held me – almost suspiciously so.
I remembered a hollow eye and an equally hollow voice, remembered that oblivion could only carry a mind so far, and whispered, ‘Still don’t want to talk?’
His arms stiffened around me.
But his words were careful, almost hesitant against the crown of my head as he muttered, ‘I don’t think so. I’m not … I …’
He trailed away.
I’d never heard Durlain Averre leave a sentence unfinished. The vulnerability was unsettling and strangely moving at once.
I waited.
‘I don’t think I ever do,’ he finally said – a quiet, uncertain confession. ‘Talking.’
And that made sense, didn’t it?
Because he was a protector, and shields couldn’t afford to shatter.
All those years spent taking care of his sister, his mother’s legacy, his father’s innocent victims …
He could allow himself to be scarred and jaded, he could be vicious and vengeful, bursting with hate for himself and the world, but he could never, never be weak.
My heart hurt, suddenly – a cramped, physical hurt.
‘You can talk to me,’ I mumbled, my hands finding his against my chest. ‘If you ever want to. I’m scared of almost everything, but I don’t think I’m scared of your pain.’
His breath caught against my back.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t tell me to take my impertinent presumptions elsewhere. His lips found the sensitive spot behind my ear instead, pressed down a single soft kiss between the damp strands of my hair – a thank you without words, as if even the smallest crack would break him now.
I squeezed his hands tighter.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence lasted and lasted, until my eyelids grew heavy, until the fireborn flames quieted into the night.
I’d almost sunk into the soft, welcoming arms of my dreams when Durlain’s sudden, shivering inhale jerked me back to wakefulness – the breath of a man coming to a conclusion, or perhaps of a man gathering courage from the deepest pits of himself.
His arms tightened ever so slightly around me.
He buried his face in my hair as if to hide himself.
‘Why is it you?’ he breathed against my scalp, voice so quiet I wasn’t sure if I’d heard the words at all. ‘Why did it have to be you?’