Chapter 7 #2
She ran her fingertips over the deep grooves etched into his face, soft strokes to erase the grief written there. One touch at a time, coaxing him back from wherever he had gone, until his lashes raised and his gaze locked with hers.
He looked like a man lost at sea who’d found the stars again. His mouth parted, then closed. When he finally spoke, it was reverent. A whisper to the gods. “I psychi mou.”
Selene cracked wide open. He’d begun using this term of endearment long before she knew what it meant. Before she realized the gravity of it.
My soul.
Not my love. Not my heart. As if saying her name wasn’t enough, he named her after the part of himself he couldn’t live without.
Selene swept her lips across his, a slow, sensual tease before guiding her tongue into his mouth.
Hints of buttery caramel burst on her tongue—his favorite whiskey—and his skin radiated the salt of the sea and the heat of the sun.
Familiar after all these months, but somehow richer with the ship’s rock beneath them and the gentle lap of water against the hull.
Augustus’s hands crept beneath her skirts with quiet purpose, skimming up her thighs, knowing the way by heart. He found her bare and aching, and the groan he pulled from her was feral.
He grinned against her mouth. “Have I mentioned my appreciation for the local garb?”
She chuckled. “A time or two.”
His fingers slid inside, slow, sure, curling just right. Selene arched toward him, breath caught as his gaze traced every flicker of pleasure crossing her face. No words passed his lips. They didn’t have to. His touch said it all.
She was his.
Now, all she needed was him. “Augustus, I need you inside me.”
His brows kicked up. “Is that right?”
His fingers left her core and circled the nerves at her apex. The pressure teased, withholding her orgasm.
“You bastard,” she rasped.
He pushed her hair aside and nuzzled into her neck. Hot breath washed across her skin. “I don’t think you’re ready.”
Selene opened her mouth to protest, but his tongue licked up the shell of her ear, and she moaned.
His next words came in a low growl. “You make me want to ruin you even as I spend every waking moment ensuring your entire existence remains untouched and unmarred by anyone but me.” He nipped her ear. “Listen to how you pant for me.”
Truthfully, she was finding it hard to breathe. Tension stretched through her body, ravenous.
Augustus gripped her hips and raised her until she was hovering over his lap. Trembling with need. Holding her like a punishment. Or a promise.
His eyes glinted with his banked desire. “Don’t move, i psychi mou.”
Beneath her, he kicked off his boots and worked his pants down. Pulled his shirt off. All the while, he held her gaze. Fearless.
Finally, he sat naked beneath her with her skirts draping his thighs. He held his erection up for her, stroking in long, slow pulls. His other hand pushed into her hair and brought her mouth closer. “What is it you want?” he asked.
A dangerous question. Right now, she wanted it all. She wanted to feel him and taste him all at once. She needed to be inside his skin until their souls came together. She longed to wreck him the same way he did her.
“Ruin me, Augustus.”
A sound that was part groan, part growl left him. “Gods, woman, I’m hanging by a thread.”
Selene placed her hand over his, guiding his erection toward her center. “Then let me cut you free.”
Augustus thrust into her with demand and unleashed all restraint. He fisted her hair and opened her neck for his mouth and tongue and teeth. Mapping his territory, conquering what was his. Bold. Dangerous. Careless.
Selene let him with every sigh, every breathless whimper. She wanted to be caught in his undertow of desire. It was the only place she felt truly alive.
The world shifted, and Augustus flipped her onto her back. He splayed her beneath his large body, hovering, pulling her dress off one shoulder and freeing her breast. His tongue flicked across her nipple.
“Do you feel that?” he whispered, climbing her body, scraping her skin with his coarse whiskers. “Do you feel how you tremble for me? Every quake…mine. Every broken moan clawing from your chest…mine.” Augustus kissed her, plunging into her mouth, taking her tongue and breath. “Mine,” he finished.
Selene fisted his hair and met his ravenous gaze. “Yours.”
Then, he was pushing into her again, and his kiss ventured just as deep. Just as ruthless. The orgasm built like a storm tide inside her, and when it hit, it shattered her into light. Her cry filled the cabin, half-worship, half-wreckage.
Augustus met every surge of her body with his unrelenting thrusts, kissing her neck, laving her collarbone. By the time he was there to meet her eyes, the haze cleared and revealed a wicked gleam staring down at her.
A ripple passed through him. The kind of shift a sea captain made before changing course.
He blindly reached toward a nearby table. “You asked me to ruin you, Selene.”
A flash of silver caught her eye.
Augustus rose to his knees, his thick erection still seated within her, and a blade in his hand. He twirled it, lantern light sparking off the shining silver.
He held her gaze. “I’m going to rip you open until all that’s left is a woman who knows she’s worshipped.”
Selene’s heart quickened. Not from fear. Not from distrust. Nothing but reverence sparked in his eyes.
Augustus fisted the low neck of her chiton and kissed the steel of the blade, then twirled the knife over her breastbone. He slid the flat of the blade down her neckline, slow and deliberate, until the steel heated against her skin.
A shiver bloomed across her body, and her breath caught.
His gaze lowered to her breast. “I hope you’re not attached to this particular dress.”
He didn’t wait for her response and dragged the blade through the silk fabric. This wasn’t him taking her apart. He was unwrapping her like a relic. Like something sacred he’d die to protect.
The steel reached the net of cords belting her waist, and he paused for only a heartbeat. Then, one by one, the knife cut through each winding cord and sprang aside.
Once those were gone, Augustus tossed the weapon aside. He gathered what remained of her dress and ripped the silk until she lay naked.
Augustus examined his handiwork. “That’s better.”
Selene laughed—until the reminder of him inside her stole her next breath. “You godsdamned pirates.”
He smirked as he settled back into place, skin to skin, breath to breath. “You love pirates.”
“I love this pirate.” She squeezed her thighs around him for emphasis. “I love you.”
Augustus swept hair from her temple and kissed her nose. “Forever?”
“And ever.” Selene linked her ankles at the small of his back and wiggled her ass. “Now, finish what you started before you give all pirates a bad name.”
His answering smile stretched across his face. “You’d better hold on, then, i psychi mou. I’m suddenly in the mood to show you a few new things.”
Dimitrios entered the main hall currently occupied by most—if not all—of Court.
Early on, he’d identified this room as the heart of the palace, grandiose and opulent with its soaring ceiling and towering marble columns.
The high-arched windows with stained glass panels filled the room with sunlight during the day, but night had fallen, and the palace slaves were in the process of lighting the wall sconces and chandeliers with dozens of candles per arm.
Servants in simple, neutral-colored chitons wound through the room with trays of food or silver decanters of wine. Courtiers held out their crystal glasses without breaking the conversation anytime one passed.
On the room’s far side was the raised dais, where Dimitrios had stood five months ago and announced his identity to this very room. The entirety of the council sat there now, whispering amongst each other under the fan of giant palm leaves.
Stavros Salidis, the Inquisitor, sat silently within their circle of lounge chairs, his gaze fixed on Dimitrios.
As soon as their eyes met, he stood and walked away from the men, winding around the hall of lounging courtiers, ignoring every curious gaze he passed.
He declined the offer of food and drink from a few servants with a raised hand.
“My Lord,” Stavros said once he stood before Dimitrios.
“Inquisitor.”
Stavros swept a bland look across the room of overly jeweled courtiers.
“I’m afraid you won’t find much in the way of entertainment this evening.
Unless you have an ear for the latest gossip.
” His mouth twitched as if attempting a smile that he couldn’t quite summon.
“With your mother absent, there’s no one to plan the nightly events. ”
“Sounds like a problem for a king. Or the High Chancellor, in this case.”
How difficult would it be to assign this task to someone, such as the new Head of House? Milonia was already proving quite capable of filling her role.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a Queen Consort,” Stavros said, “but it doesn’t appear you have any interest in one of our Ladies?”
Dimitrios itched under the stare of a few of those Ladies in particular, whose names Pandora had left in his rooms. “Should I take your question to mean you’ve finally made a decision?”
Stavros shifted his weight and lowered his gaze. “There are still some remaining concerns we need to address about your loyalty to Perean.”
“Who—exactly—is concerned, Inquisitor?”
“The Council. The people.”
“The people? The everyday men and women I’ve spent months getting to know outside these insular walls?” He laughed from low in his gut. “The people aren’t as worried as you would have me believe.”
The inquisitor frowned. “Yes. I’ve heard you spend a lot of time out in the streets of Praevia. I understand you’ve also visited the mines. Why was that?”