Chapter 31 #2
Paeonia could just faintly make out Barth muttering something, but her ears were ringing. She held Rowan’s shirt tighter, and he pulled her closer, his lips moving like he had dreamt of doing this. Dreamt of marking his claim on her.
Barth had kissed her countless times, but it never felt like this.
Never made her pant. Never made her stomach flip and her heart race.
She wanted Rowan all over her, under her skin, wherever she could get him.
His musky scent made her feel at home, like this was what she was always meant to smell.
His hand moved down slightly, his thumb splayed over her neck and chin, dragging her mouth forcibly against his.
Finally, he pulled back, and Paeonia hated that she didn’t like the loss of contact, her mouth following his for the briefest of moments, desiring his lips back. She gaped, and he breathed heavily, admiring her, before his gaze flickered behind her.
“Gods,” Barth said impossibly. “You were always so shy. When did you become such a whore?”
Rowan’s attention drew back to Paeonia, his eyes tracing her features and leaving fire in their wake, his hand on her cheek, preventing her from shifting her gaze to Barth.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” Rowan’s words lacked mockery. Only pure astonishment. “The possessiveness. The claim I want to have over you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate that I did.”
“Why? Why do you hate your pull toward me?”
Pull. She knew what this meant, but hadn’t wanted to put a name to it. Didn’t want to breathe life into it.
“I’m your mate, and you hate it,” he concluded, disbelief and marvel coating his features.
“Why do you hate your pull toward me?” she asked him in return.
“Perhaps I once did. Perhaps I don’t any longer.”
“You can have her,” Barth called from behind them. “I’ve had my fill.”
Rowan’s face gave nothing away, but she could sense the anger ebbing under his skin. She wondered how much of it was the mating bond, and how much might just be him truly caring for her.
“You have never done more than kiss him?” Rowan whispered.
She nodded, her cheeks aflame. “Apart from that night… But I stopped it before it got—” She lost her courage to shame. Remembering that night in the observatory when Barth wanted her, and she attacked him with magic she hadn’t known she possessed.
Before she could linger in sorrow, Rowan spun them around and pushed her against the small sliver of solid wall between the cells across from Barth’s. He kissed her again, his lips heavenly and soft. He grumbled against her mouth. “Let me claim you.”
Her heart stuttered, skipping a beat at the implication. She reared back slightly. He smirked, his features turning haunting. Intimidating. Deadly. He breathed heavily, his chest rising rapidly, and tilted his head, waiting for her to speak.
“You want to claim me?” she asked quietly.
He leaned closer, and she could feel him harden against her lower stomach. “Yes. Let me claim you in front of him.”
She gulped, shaking her head, attempting to scoff, but only a whine of shock escaping.
Rowan’s hand slid along her side, cupping her breast above her gown, and he began to kiss her cheek, then closer to her ear, down her neck. “Rowan,” she huffed.
With his name in her mouth, it seemed to spur something inside him. He clawed the top of her neckline and heaved it down. The fabric was stiff, only allowing her breast to billow over the top, her nipple just barely peeking out.
“Gods,” he moaned, his pupils swallowing his irises whole.
She gasped, glancing to where his hand worked, words lost to her.
Before she could say more, his mouth attached to her budding nipple, sucking it roughly into his mouth.
Her knees went weak, and she had to grab onto his shoulders to keep herself from sinking to the floor.
His teeth rolled over the soft skin, and she sputtered.
“R-Rowan.” Her eyes glanced over his shoulder, Barth watching with disgust, and red flooded her system.
Yet, she fluttered in pleasure.
Rowan’s hands held her firmly. He sucked aggressively before kissing her neck in a swift movement.
“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against her skin. He kissed softly, a stark contrast to how he had just ravished her chest. “And I will stop.”
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. Her brows bent as she studied him. He seemed uncontained, feral and wild. Like he couldn’t control his actions.
“Let me claim you,” he said again. “Not all the way. But enough.”
Paeonia struggled to move as she tugged her neckline back up, Rowan’s spit surely leaving a damp mark on the olive fabric. “In front of…?”
He tilted his head. “I will not expose you. But let me sink to my knees before you. Let me worship you how you deserve. Let me rid you of his memory once and for all.” His eyes danced between hers. “Be mine. Please.”
Her breath caught in her throat, her mind fluttering. She couldn’t believe she was actually entertaining this idea. She shook her head. “You’ve corrupted me.” Her words were weak.
He cupped her cheek. “You are a wondrous thing, sweet Paeonia.”
Her heart swelled in her chest, her entire body pinking. And finally, she nodded. “I trust you.”
Before another moment could pass, he fell to his knees. If Paeonia’s face was red before, she couldn’t imagine what she looked like now. She almost moaned at the way he looked below her. At her mercy.
“Rowan,” she cried.
He held her back, grabbing her skirts and hiking them up.
She knew Barth watched in the shadows with disgust and loathing. Her chest grew lighter when she shed him from her mind. When she put all her focus on Rowan.
Rowan traced her features, his eyes darkening, like he found pleasure in her willingness to participate in something as indecent as this.
“P-please,” she begged again. But what for?
“I will claim you. He will see that you are mine,” he growled, each word sharp and pronounced. His large frame blocked her so Barth couldn’t see what Rowan did below her waist.
Then, Rowan was under her skirts. And all rational thought left her as Rowan’s mouth moved against her like he did the other night.
He shoved her undergarments aside, connecting his lips with her flesh, wasting no time sucking and licking.
His fingers slid along her legs, over her stockings and against her hot skin.
He pulled back and snarled. “Hold your skirt up.”
She bunched her skirts at her stomach, giving Rowan complete access to her, but still draping over the top of his head, blocking Barth’s view. He swore under his breath before sliding a finger along her center, and her head fell back against the wall.
She couldn’t stop her hips from rolling, and she heard him hum in satisfaction.
She wanted to think this through, but he was too fast, sliding his finger inside of her in one, hard push.
She gasped, her fingers clenching tightly around the fabric of her skirt.
She groaned when he began to move his finger in and out.
“Going to be hard to fit my cock in here,” he mumbled to himself.
Paeonia’s breathing stopped. Everything went blurry as she clung to his words. Rowan lapped at her, his finger coaxing something sweet to the surface. Rowan grabbed one of her thighs, forcing it up and back toward the wall. Paeonia’s eyes fluttered at his newfound access.
“Oh my gods,” she whispered, never feeling such pure bliss before.
Oddly enough, she was more relaxed than last time Rowan had been between her thighs.
A bit more sure of what to expect when he pleasured her.
And that allowed her to truly feel the sensation all over her body.
The way his tongue placed just the right amount of pressure, sucking and nipping at her, her hips begging to buck forward.
His finger making her feel full and needy all the same.
One of her hands slithered into Rowan’s hair. She wondered if he pulled away now, if she’d try to direct his head back.
He pushed her thigh further, opening her up completely, and he hastened his movements, his tongue placing more pressure on her, his finger curling inward. She couldn’t contain the moan, and Rowan’s hand flew up to clamp over her mouth.
“Those sounds are only for me to hear,” he muttered.
She held back her groan, biting her lip, complying with his words, his hand still lightly placed over her lips.
The pleasure grew to a new height. “Please,” she mumbled against his palm. She glanced a peek at Barth, and to her surprise, he had turned away.
She hadn’t the time to feel bad before Rowan pushed forcibly against her mouth, like he knew what he was about to do would elicit a moan, and he sucked at her with great force, a second finger begrudgingly sliding inside her.
Paeonia writhed against him, unable to stop the moans that got muffled by Rowan’s large hand, her own now gripping his shoulders.
Her hips bucked, and she whined, Rowan never slowing until she steadied.
She sank against him, weak and spent. Rowan pulled away, and she dropped her skirts, his hand slipping under her and scooping her easily into his arms.
Rowan began moving, and Barth’s voice echoed down the corridor. “Your father is on his deathbed, Paeonia.” She didn’t miss his use of her full name.
Barth watched them all the way to the stairs until Paeonia buried her head against Rowan’s chest.
When they finally made it to the main level, the door closing and locking behind them, she spoke. “Gods, why did I let you do that to me in front of him?” The embarrassment lingered over her words.
“Because you’re just as broken as I am.”
Her lips parted as she glanced at him. “I just can’t believe…” Her brows bent.
“You’re not wondering what I’m going to do with him? Or what I’m doing with him in my cellar to begin with?”
She tilted her head. He was smiling at her.
“Do you really think my father is that sick?” she asked in shame.
Rowan’s smile slipped. “I don’t know.”