Thirty Five #3
With a chuckle, I waited a few seconds and then walked to the doors. As I was about to step outside, the sound of Adrian’s voice made me halt. It was coming from inside the house.
“What was so urgent that you wanted to talk in private, Heiran?” Adrian’s question was muffled as I followed it out of the foyer.
“It’s not I who wants to speak with you.”
“What? Then who?”
“Adrian.” My heart dropped when a female voice rang out.
“Daelana?”
I stopped close to where the conversation was taking place and peeked around the corner into a parlor room. Adrian’s mate stood in front of him, and Heiran was nowhere to be seen.
“I’ve missed you,” Daelana said.
“I’m leaving.”
“Wait!”
Before he could glimmer out, she latched on to him, sealing her lips to his. Nausea instantly came over me, but the kiss lasted only a split second because Adrian pushed her away.
“Are you out of your mind?! I’m married!” he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And even if I wasn’t, I’m not interested.”
“Oh, please. Don’t tell me this is about the mortal girl?” Daelana inquired, taking a step toward him, all bold confidence in a fitted black gown.
He stepped away from her. “She’s not just some girl. She is my queen.”
“And I am your mate! We are destined to be together. You can’t fight this.” She closed the distance between them, but when her hands flew up to reach for Adrian, he grabbed her wrists to stop her from touching him.
“Watch me,” he said through his teeth before he dropped her hands and disappeared.
My nausea subsided, and red-hot fury took its place.
“Stay away from him!” I seethed as I stepped out from behind the corner.
Daelana whirled on me. “Or what?! I’m his mate. You might be married to him, but you can’t carry on pretending that I don’t exist.”
“Watch me,” I repeated Adrian’s words before I spun around and stormed out of the parlor.
I strode back into the gardens, where Adrian found me a few seconds later. “We’re leaving.” He clasped my shoulders. I didn’t protest, as eager to leave the place as he was.
When we appeared in front of my quarters, he promptly released my shoulders and stepped away from me.
He then opened the door to my chambers and gestured for me to walk in, following after me once I had done so.
When I halted by the vanity in the bedroom, he kept striding away toward the hallway that connected our rooms.
“I’ll let you change,” he threw over his shoulder on his way out.
He was fleeing, trailing a dark trace of dejection behind him. I needed him to stay. Why—I wasn’t entirely sure at this moment. All I knew was that I didn’t like seeing him in this state and refused to let him leave.
“I need help,” I blurted out.
He stopped abruptly, frozen with his back to me. “What?” The question was a cautious whisper. He angled his head to glance at me over his shoulder.
“I need help changing out of my dress.” I knew what my words meant, and I didn’t wish to take them back.
He turned around fully then, but I didn’t see the look of relief I thought I would find. His features were contorted in anguish.
“For the past two weeks, I’ve prayed every single day to hear you say that you wanted my touch, but tonight…” He grimaced. “Emelin, something happened at the party. Daelana…she ambushed me, and she kissed me. I didn’t kiss her back. Nor did I want to.”
I stared at him, unsure if I should disclose that I had witnessed their exchange.
“Please say something,” he begged. Before I could, he added, “Ask me.”
He wanted me to ask him if he still had feelings for her, but I didn’t need the confirmation. I had seen his devotion to me firsthand. “I don’t need to. I saw what happened.”
“You did? I can’t believe I didn’t hear you or catch your scent.” He must have been too shell-shocked by Daelana’s actions to notice me.
“Will you help me change?” I asked.
His gaze dropped to my chest. “The wound. Is it still there?”
“It is.” He exhaled harshly in disappointment. “But it’s closing, and the pieces I’ve managed to put back together are enough for now. The rest we can restore together, because even though you’re the one who broke my heart, you’re also the only one who can make it whole again.”
He lifted his gaze to mine. Hope flickered in his eyes. It was faint, as if he were scared to give in to it fully. “Are you sure?”
“I am. I want you to touch me. I need you to.” My voice shook as I uttered the words.
The hope in his eyes flared, shining brighter and brighter as he closed the distance between us. “I love you,” he said, stopping in front of me. “I don’t expect you to say it back—”
“I love you, too.” There was no hesitation, only acceptance of something I had felt for a while now.
Potent relief washed over his features a second before he dropped to his knees at my feet.
“Are you all right?” I asked in alarm. The silver patterns on his skin were shimmering brightly, which was a sure sign that I would need to siphon Silberium from him soon.
He looked up at me. “I am, though I think I might be dreaming.”
“This is not a dream. I can prove to you it’s real.” I swallowed before adding in a soft whisper, “Touch me. Please.”
He closed his eyes briefly, and when he reopened them, they were almost entirely black. “Please? My star, you never have to beg.”
He reached under the skirts of my gown, and a soft gasp left me when his fingers brushed my ankle.
I propped my lower back against the vanity and gripped the edge for support.
His molten gaze stayed fastened on mine the entire time as he lifted my left foot off the ground slightly and slid the high heel off.
He set it aside and moved on to the right foot.
When that shoe also hit the ground, his left hand stayed resting on my ankle as he glided the fingertips of his right hand up to my calf.
My breathing picked up as his fingers traveled higher, the feather-light touch eliciting a pleasant shiver.
When he began caressing the inner side of my thigh, moving closer and closer to where a tight curling sensation was growing in its intensity, my eyes fluttered closed as my head fell back.
My crown would have slid down if it hadn’t been secured with magic.
“Stars,” I breathed. I would have never imagined that such a simple, light touch could be a sensual torment, setting my senses on fire.
“I’m not worthy of you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with raw emotion.
When I opened my eyes and looked at him, he seemed enraptured, staring up at me with endless longing in his dark gaze.
He was still wearing his crown, and having a king kneeling before me was strangely empowering.
Letting go of the vanity, I bent at the waist to bring my face closer to his.
His long lashes lowered as I cupped his cheeks, and he seemed to have stopped breathing as I whispered, “Yes, you are. You’re the only one who is. ”
I softly brushed my lips over his, and a full-body shudder rolled through him.
A rough sound erupted from his throat, a mix between a whimper and a growl.
A low moan followed it as he crashed his mouth to mine.
With one deep, all-consuming kiss, he sealed the knowledge I felt in my heart: I would never kiss any other lips but his for as long as I lived.
When our mouths parted, I tried to pull him up, but he remained on his knees.
“I need your help with something,” he said when I gave him a questioning look.
“What can I do?” I straightened from him. Was he ready for me to siphon the ancient magic?
“Help me with your dress.” He gathered up my skirts and had me hold them by my right hip as he slid my undergarments off.
Arousal flooded me when he lifted my right thigh and slung it over his left shoulder.
His voice was thick and smoky as he said, “Remember what I promised? Every last drop of pleasure.”
He kissed the inner side of my thigh, and a shuddering exhale left me as I leaned against the vanity again and gripped the edge with my free hand.
“Do your worst,” I teased, but the words came out low and husky.
A sinful smile pulled at his lips as he kissed my thigh again.
He kept kissing it, moving closer and closer to where desire pulsed.
He took his time, and if I didn’t know better, I would have thought that he was getting back at me for torturing him over the past two weeks.
I began writhing in front of him, desperate to feel his mouth on the most intimate part of me.
“So impatient,” he teased, his lips maddeningly close to where I wanted them.
“You said I never have to beg,” I whimpered.