Chapter 48
Wolfe
“The Villain’s Solace”
My mage stood before me with her back pressed to my chest, her naked body slick and divine. Her drenched hair clung to her shoulders, water curling down each strand like ribbons of dark flame.
I'd had her four times in my bed. That still wasn't enough to satisfy my desire for her. So, I brought her here, into my bathing chamber, where I could live out more fantasies.
Unlike the rest of the manor, my chamber was built around a natural spring that cascaded down the stone wall in a gentle waterfall and pooled into a basin carved from black marble.
The curtain of warm water was perfect for bathing and appealed to my love for the outdoors. Tonight, it served another purpose by feeding my obsession with every curve of my mage's body. And my obsession with her.
The Gods had left her here to ruin me. This I was certain of, and I thanked them for it. There was no saving me from her now. Not anymore.
I'd never stood a chance at resisting her. Never. My fate with this woman had been sealed the moment the wraith reported back to me with news of my little thief.
I'd wrongly dismissed the wraith's claim about her being the thief, yet it turned out the wraith had been completely right. Because this mage stole my heart. The same heart I'd thought long dead.
She'd cracked open the coffin I'd buried it in, and now it beat with the deadliest sin of all: greed. Greed for her. Only her.
Now that I’d claimed her body, I wanted to own everything else, every inch of her—mind, soul, heart, and breath.
Even if the Gods demanded I give her back as penance, I would choose damnation to keep her. Or merely just to taste her again. My sweet little thing didn't know it yet, but she was mine in ways that transcended flesh.
Steam curled through the air from the hot stones surrounding us, blending with the heat from our desire.
I ran my fingers through her hair, loving the feel of the silky strands between my fingers, then I traced my way down to the delicate dip of her waist to glide the washcloth over her skin.
She glanced back at me, her eyes holding mine with quiet fascination.
I brushed her hair over her shoulder to bare her neck and pressed my mouth to the shell of her ear. “Tired yet, mage?”
“No.”
I kissed her shoulder, then her nape, sucking on the sweet skin until I left a mark. “Good. That means I get more time to play with you.”
She lifted her chin, a smile dancing on her lips. I covered them with mine, slipping my arm around her waist so I could kiss her deeper and taste her need for me.
My cock hardened, ready to be inside her again. Ready to own her body again.
I dragged the cloth down her spine slowly, reverently, then followed the path with my lips, tasting the water as it beaded across her skin.
I could hardly believe I'd denied myself her for as long as I had. My restraint had finally broken from the madness of tonight's shitshow.
I was now convinced Dreynthor had a death wish. The fucking bastard had orchestrated the entire charade, announcing a marriage arrangement like I was some pawn to be moved around his chessboard. But he miscalculated. Badly.
I hadn't agreed to shit, and he had no idea he'd just lit the fuse on his own destruction.
That miserable fucker thought he'd put a chain around my neck to control me like a dog, believing I wouldn't embarrass King Paeulyn or his daughter.
The stunned look on Dreynthor's face as he watched me portal out of the room was unforgettable. And he knew I was going after Elariya.
I was so enraged I was barely able to maintain control over my death magic. I'd come close to killing my uncle before, but tonight, I'd treaded a line so thin it was barely visible.
I'd deal with his miserable ass and the repercussions of my actions tomorrow.
I didn't want to think about Dreynthor or any of the other shit tonight. Not while I was with Elariya.
For now, I wanted to escape in my mage, my solace. And I didn't give a fuck about anything else.
A soft whimper escaped her lips, and she reached up to cup my face. I deepened the kiss, tasting her hungrily, my hands roaming up her torso to cup her breasts as she arched her back against my chest.
“Let me see you,” I whispered over her lips.
She bit back a smile as I turned her around to face me. She leaned against the wall.
I took a step back and drank in the sinful sight of her unrepentant beauty—the swell of her breasts with their hard, rose-tipped nipples, the curve of her waist, the smooth mound of bare skin between her thighs.
Moonlight slid over her body like silk, her skin dewed from the heat of the water, flushed and glowing.
“You're giving me that look again.” Her lips were swollen from my kiss, and her eyes burned with need and something else.
Trust. Finally, she trusted me, and I'd wear that truth like a badge of honor.
“Indulge me, mage. I'm enjoying my favorite parts of you.”
She giggled, and I relished the happiness on her face. I remembered how envious I'd been that night when I first saw her smiling at Garrick. Now her smiles came easily for me. And they were different. They reached her eyes, where there was a light that gave me a window into her soul.
“What are your favorite parts of me?” Her soft voice drifted over my mind, luring me back into listless obsession.
I let the cloth fall to the floor and stepped closer, deciding I'd work my way over her body from bottom to top.
I dropped to my knees before her, the stone cool against my shins. I lifted her leg and lowered my mouth to kiss the tops of her feet. “I love your feet.”
“My feet?” She laughed. “Feet aren't pretty.”
“Yours are.” I planted more kisses on her feet then up her legs. “I love these, too, especially the way they wrap around me when I'm pounding into you.”
She stilled when I reached the smooth mound of her folds, awareness wide in her eyes. It was that beautiful, fragile awareness of a woman being seen, truly seen, and still wanting more.
“I like you here.” I spread her thighs and lifted one leg over my shoulder, then licked her clit.
Her breath hitched, sweet and sharp, and I felt her body yield to mine without a single word.
“This is mine now, mage. No one will ever touch you here but me. Because this—this sacred place—belongs to me.”
Briefly, I sucked on her clit and licked into her heat, pulling a moan from her lips.
She pressed her fingers against the wall and gazed down at me, pleasure brimming in her eyes. I looked up at her with a reverence I'd never shown anyone, taking in the rivulets of water sliding down her breasts and the flat planes of her belly.
My hands slid up her thighs, spreading her open, and I anchored her entrance to my mouth, drinking in every breath and tremble she gave me.
I tasted her slowly. One reverent stroke of my tongue against her folds, then another, firmer, deeper, until her head tipped back and another moan cracked from her throat.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging me closer as her hips rocked forward and she moaned louder.
Gods, the sound of her pleasure unraveled me, but I didn't let her tip over the edge. I planned to make her come apart again. But not yet.
When I pulled away with a savage grin, she frowned.
“You're so evil for torturing me,” she said in a breathy rasp.
“You're the one who asked me about my favorite parts of you. There's still more, Ziyka.”
She shot me a bashful smile. “Like what?”
“This.” I released her leg and kissed her stomach, then up and up to her breasts. “And these. I love these. A male could feast on these forever.”
I took each nipple into my mouth and sucked, swirling my tongue around the tight peaks because I knew it would drive her crazy.
It did. She gripped my shoulders and moaned. “Wolfe…”
I sucked until she melted against me, then I pulled away again, eliciting another scowl from her pretty face.
I straightened and deepened my gaze, then lifted a lock of her hair to my nose. I inhaled the fruity scent and smiled. “I like your hair. It's the color of temptation.”
“Because it's red?” She pretended to pout.
“Yes. It screams, fuck me.” I gave her a ruthless, unapologetic grin.
“I wasn't aware that my hair was so tempting.”
“Now you know.”
She pressed her hand to my chest and held it there for a moment as if she were memorizing the rhythm of my heartbeat. “I like here.” She nodded, playing along.
“What's there to like, Ziyka?”
“Three things: I like feeling your heart beating, your skin, and I like this tattoo even though I don't know the meaning of it.”
Her fingers brushed the ink just above my heart. A dark, swirling design made of interlocking curves and sharp arcs, like smoke caught mid-whirl.
“It's the mark of a Lord Commander who's won more than ten wars.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “More than ten?”
“Yes, Ziyka.”
Her face fell, her fingers stilling against the tattoo. “It's hard to imagine you in one war, let alone more than ten. War is so… dangerous.”
I didn't want to see worry clouding her beautiful face, not when she was with me, so I thought of something to distract her. “Don't worry. Remember, I have these.” I unleashed my wings, and just as I'd hoped, fascination bloomed across her features.
She smiled and reached out to touch the leathery edge of my right wing. “I love these. A lot.”
“Do you now?”
“I do.”
She moved around me so she could get a better look and ran her fingers over them. I loved having her hands on me and all her attention focused solely on me.
To captivate her further, I turned my wings into smoke then reformed them. She gasped. When I looked at her over my shoulder, she was beaming from ear to ear. That look on her face was something I never wanted to forget.
“I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so intrigued. I can't help myself.” She chuckled.
“I'm not complaining.”
“I just can't get over how they just appear when you want them to be there, and they're attached to your back. They don't even tear through your clothes or your skin.”