Chapter 46
Nelle
Sage left my side, heading for the balcony.
The tower was quiet but for the distant sound of my wraith-wolf lapping at his water bowl.
Finally, I dragged myself inside, moving past the partition of storage cupboards.
Moonlight dappled the furniture and what little remained of Graysen’s clothes hanging on the makeshift wardrobe.
A whitish glow came from a lamp set beside the bed, more aesthetic than of any practical use.
Graysen sat on the edge of the mattress, head bowed, shoulders tense, holding an unopened book.
He wasn’t reading, hadn’t been, I realized.
A useless distraction that hadn’t fulfilled its promise.
Smoke curled from a blunt burning low in the ashtray, untouched.
The whiskey on the bedside table shimmered, full and forgotten.
Startled, Graysen glanced up as I walked closer. Then he shot to his feet, scanning my wretched expression. I knew that he’d feel what was going on inside me. How I’d fractured and broken. The heaviness weighing on my soul.
We stared at one another across the space that divided us.
He seemed almost sweet with his wide-eyed awkwardness, his hands anxiously flexing the novel, as if he was unsure of what to do or say, how he should act around me.
What was I going to do?
Was there anything else I could do to save myself?
Was there any point?
My gaze dipped to his fingers kneading the paperback, curling the papered edge of it back and forth.
The answer came as swiftly as a bolt of lightning.
There was one option left to me, one that sent an electric thrill zinging down my spine and my toes curling into the loops of wool as my gaze skimmed the broad shoulders and powerful arms, the black t-shirt clinging to a muscled chest and lean hips.
One option I hadn’t wanted to take advantage of until now.
Desperation, I expect. One last chance at saving myself, and perhaps the easiest one to try.
But as to what would happen afterward, I didn’t know.
I’d have to flee fast and think even faster on my feet.
Hope expanded inside my chest.
Graysen’s eyes sharpened on mine as if he felt the sudden change in me too.
I straightened to my full height as I explored the option from all angles.
I could… I could try it…
If he allowed me to.
I approached, only to come to a standstill a few feet away. Graysen blinked warily, unsure of my intentions. For a long while, silence reigned between us while I studied his face, carved in shadow and uncertainty.
“Take off your clothes,” I ordered quietly.
His jaw slackened, and thick brows inched together.
But he did as I asked. He kept his gaze on mine while he bent sideways and placed the novel on the bedside table.
There wasn’t much to remove. He dressed as casually as I did.
Reaching behind, he grabbed his t-shirt and tugged it over his head, folding it quickly and setting it neatly on his bed.
His sweatpants followed, removed and placed with the same careful manner.
Then he stood before me, bare feet braced apart, wearing only his Zimmerli boxer briefs.
He tipped his head to the side, the wavy hanks of hair sliding across his forehead as he thumbed the springy waistband at his hip, silently asking me if he should remove the boxer briefs too.
I think I voiced “Yes,” or maybe I hadn’t, but he obviously understood me clearly enough. He shoved his underwear off, scooping them up to put with his clothes.
Graysen stood naked before me, his skin burnished to a deeper gold by the shadowy light in the room.
My gaze glided over the tattoos trailing from his jawline down to the wyrm branded across the swell of a pec, to follow along the full arm sleeve of writhing wyrmfire and lines of Ukkenskrit, to the wrist that was thickly layered in thin leather and silver chains, which I suspected hid scars.
Scars perhaps more brutal than the slashes gracing his back.
I swallowed as desire hardened his cock. My gaze lingered as it stiffened and thickened and bobbed upward. And a delicious ache pulsed between my thighs when I saw the tip glisten with precum.
My gaze flicked up to meet his. The golden flecks surrounding his dilated pupils glittered with craving.
I had only one word for him.
A single word.
“Kneel.”
I’d fully expected him to fight, that natural impulse to dominate me warring against submission. He didn’t hesitate for a moment. He lowered one knee to the carpet, then the other before looking up, waiting to see what more I asked of him. There wasn’t wariness, only eternal patience.
I took a long step forward to stand at his side. Hot skin met my palm as I curled my fingers around his shoulder, marveling at the tendons and hard muscles twitching against my flesh. It was a gentle push as I urged him to sit back on his heels.
He did as I asked, folding his lower half, and there were barely inches between his spine and the sweeping side of his elaborate bed.
The air between us charged with electric anticipation that sizzled against our skin, making our twin-hearts kick faster, a sonorous beat in my ears.
First, I moved languidly back in front of him, tossing my shawl away before untangling my hair and unknotting the twists at the nape of my neck. Freed, the long length cascaded down my back and over my shoulders.
I wore only a black dress dirtied with dust. It was short-sleeved with innocent ribbons worked through the buttonholes of the bodice.
I undid the bow, easing apart the ribbons that threaded through the slender holes.
I didn’t really need to do it since the dress was so big I could have pulled it over my head.
But the gleam in his eyes, the sharpness of attention, all focused right there on my fingers, was far too tempting not to taunt him.
His palpable hunger prickled all the fine hairs on my arms.
Gathering the loose fabric of the skirt, I inched it up over my thighs slowly, revealing more of my flesh. He muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath as the pretty hem of my underwear came into view.
Underneath, I wore only panties, no bra. I heard a desperate groan as I pulled the dress up and over my head. The stirred air swept across my heated skin as I flung it away. His fingers twitched where they rested on his thighs as if he was on the cusp of reaching for me but didn’t dare.
And I wanted to ensure that.
I gestured to the slats arching over the birdcage bed. “Hands.”
Graysen raised an eyebrow. His gaze narrowed and became considering as he weighed my request.
Slowly, so slowly, I watched his back curve slightly as he raised his arms, the muscles bulging as he gripped the glossy wood above his head with calloused hands.
His seeming appearance as my very own sacrificial lamb was deceiving.
A tiger more like.
Dangerous.
A delectable treat.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband at my hips and wiggled the panties down, kicking them away. All the while I watched him watch me. My heavy breasts ached with need as he stared with a hooded gaze at the shadowed place between my thighs.
Pressure built within my core and my clit swelled, a thrum of heated desire rushing outward to curl up my chest and down my legs when I remembered what it was like this morning with my thighs clamped around his head and his bossy lips buried between my sex.
I straddled Graysen’s lap and eased downward. Our closeness made hyperawareness skitter all over our skin like a summer rainfall, startlingly hot and a welcome respite.
It was a slow descent. The barest glide of my nipples against his chest had me biting back a moan.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, my fingers squeezing taut muscle as I lowered myself into a kneeling position, my ass seated on his thighs, facing him.
A position that favored me with advantage.
A position that put me in control. One of strength and power.
“What are you doing?” he finally asked, his voice uneven.
What did I want, was the better question.
I cupped Graysen’s jaw, the smoothness of his cheek like hot silk beneath my palm.
I leaned forward to breathe him in. His gaze softened, tempered with lust. He smelled like a sinful treat.
Warm amber and cedar. His pupils dilated fully, and his body tensed beneath mine.
His rigid cock throbbed stickily against my belly.
He was barely breathing, watching and waiting for what I was going to say and do.
“I want more of us,” I whispered back.
The words rumbled from Graysen’s chest and reverberated through mine. “More of us?”
I whispered a truth. “Maybe I want to indulge myself. Maybe I need you.”
A flash of worry lit his eyes.
“Maybe all I want tonight is for the both of us to burn together.”
It was mesmerizing how his want for me coiled tighter, sharpening every inch of him, as if he barely held back a storm.
Letting go of his jaw, I pressed a single fingertip to his shoulder, following an inky line of fire that twisted like a serpent to the wyrm branded above his heart.
I traced along the ruined flesh before leaving it behind to follow one of his conquests written in flourishing Ukkenskrit to the ripple of abs, lower still, to stop at a patch of skin dusted lightly with fine hair just above his throbbing cock, stretching angrily, yearning for my hand or mouth.
“Gods…” he moaned, his lids lowering over a smoldering gaze.
I stroked back up in a straight line and rested both hands on his shoulders.
As I placed an innocent kiss into the hollow of his throat, a sharp creak of the wooden slats he clenched with a fierce grip speared through the dimly lit room.
He wanted to touch me back but was willing, for now, to wait until I gave him permission.
Rising on my knees, the position had us perfectly aligned, and the tip of his cock parted the wet folds of my sex. I swallowed down a groan as need twisted through my core.