Chapter 36
Slade
Piper’s breath is still unsteady when I finally ease back from her, letting the night air cool the flushed heat between us. The stars above us dim gently, as though politely averting their gaze now that the crescendo has passed.
I brush another stray curl from her cheek, my thumb lingering along the soft curve of her jaw. “Come,” I murmur. “There’s something else I want to show you.”
Her fingers tighten briefly around mine, reluctant to break the spell of the balcony, but she nods. I guide her toward the interior hall, my hand warm against the small of her back, her steps soft and trusting beside mine.
We move through one of the glass corridors, the soft hum of the Ninth Realm’s magic shimmering around us.
Piper’s curls sway with each step, her dark silhouette sharp against the glowing torches.
She glances around with that same mix of awe and curiosity she had the first day—yet now it’s softened by something else.
Belonging.
“Where are we going?” she asks quietly.
“To the dining hall,” I answer. “I asked my staff to prepare something special.”
The double doors ahead gleam with silver sigils that respond to my approach, parting on a soft exhale of air. Piper steps inside and gasps softly.
The hall is aglow. Hundreds of floating candles drift overhead in gentle spirals, their flames a warm gold that casts the long table in shimmering light.
A feast spreads across polished obsidian—fresh bread still steaming from the oven, roasted meats lacquered with honey glaze, fruits glistening like jewels, goblets filled with deep red wine that catches the candlelight.
Piper moves forward slowly, drawn to the spectacle. “Slade… this is beautiful.”
“It’s for you,” I tell her, pulling out her chair. “A welcome, as much as a promise.”
She sits, her eyes bright, her curls spilling across her shoulders. I settle beside her instead of across, wanting her within reach. The bond hums warm and steady between us as the meal begins.
She tastes everything with a kind of wonder—herbal soups brewed with soul-warming spices, pastries stuffed with spiced fruit, wine infused with golden magic that warms her from the inside out. We eat, we talk, we laugh, and for a moment the weight of the world feels distant.
Her knee brushes mine under the table. She doesn’t move it, not that I want her to. I take her hand gently and brush my thumb across her knuckles. “I wanted your first night here to feel like a beginning.”
“It does,” she agrees with a small smile. It settles in my chest like the warmth of a fire.
When we rise from the table, she curls her fingers into my palm without needing invitation. I lead her through a side corridor lit by soft moonstone sconces, each step quiet and intimate.
Newt appears in a blur of fur at our ankles, trotting with the smug swagger of someone whose new throne room is merely the opening act.
Piper laughs lightly. “He likes it here more than he likes my apartment.”
“I built him a monarchy,” I say dryly. “It was inevitable.”
She snickers, leaning into me as we walk. My hand drifts to her waist, savoring the feel of her warmth through the soft fabric of her dress.
We stop before a tall set of blackwood doors etched with silver constellations—my chambers. The sigils flare softly at my touch, welcoming her for the first time, recognizing her as mine.
I glance at her, gauging her reaction. Piper’s breath catches, her blue eyes going wide as the doors open fully.
Inside, the room glows with a gentle, enchanted light.
A massive four-poster bed draped in deep emerald fabrics dominates the space, soft fur throws layered across the foot of it.
A hearth crackles quietly, casting golden warmth across the rug.
The air smells faintly of cedar, smoke, and the magic that clings to her skin.
Piper steps in slowly, her voice soft as she whispers, “Slade… it’s beautiful.”
“It’s yours,” I say quietly. “For as long as you’ll have it.”
The words settle between us—heavy, intimate, true.
She turns to me, eyes bright, lips parted in something between awe and affection, and my pulse kicks hard in my chest. Tonight was meant to show her my world.
But as she moves closer, her fingers brushing my jaw, her heartbeat steady and certain against the bond—I realize she’s becoming my world.
Completely.
And when her hand slides down my chest, her body swaying into mine with a slow, deliberate invitation under the soft glow of bedside candlelight… I know the night is far from over.
I’m ready for her. My world narrows to the heat of her touch, the sudden, sharp spike of need that slams into me like a physical blow. The air in the vast chamber grows thick, charged with the magic we’re both letting loose.
“Mine,” I growl, the word tearing from my throat, a deep possessive claim.
I seize her face, cupping her perfect jaw, and my mouth crashes down on hers.
It’s a kiss that’s a promise, a demand, a surrender.
I pour every ounce of my hunger, my devotion, my deep love into the fierce contact.
Her lips part instantly under the pressure, giving me access, and I ravage the sweetness within, pulling a low, desperate sound from her chest.
My hands don’t linger on soft fabric. They plunge beneath the hem of her dress, sweeping up the silk until my fingers find the bare, warm skin of her thighs. Her muscles clench reflexively, and I push harder, lifting her, backing her up without breaking the kiss.
The walls in my bedroom are cold stone, but the contrast only seems to sharpen the molten heat building between us.
I slam her back against the rough surface, the impact stolen by her gasp.
She wraps her legs instantly around my hips, locking me in place, an exquisite, aching weight.
I pin her there, pressing my erection hard against the junction of her thighs, grinding until she arches her neck, her head resting against the stone, a soundless scream pulling at the taut muscles of her throat.
I break the kiss only to feast on the delicate skin of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, a dark, tangible mark of my possession. I want her marked. I want the world to know she is mine.
“Slade,” she manages, her voice broken, a breathless plea.
I lift her again, my hand dropping to cup her perfect, slick heat right through her panties. I feel the damp fabric, the involuntary spasm of her core.
“Not yet,” I bite out, the raw edge of my voice surprising even me. “I take what I want first.”
I move toward a small, carved blackwood side table near the window.
I set her down, roughly, my hips pushing her dress up completely, exposing her bare, trembling legs and the dark triangle of her underwear.
I don’t give her time to protest or adjust. I take hold of her hair—the thick, dark, magnificent cascade—and pull.
Not gently. I yank, tilting her head back, exposing her throat, and her stunned, needy face.
“On your knees,” I command, releasing her hair and grabbing her waist instead, pushing her down, spinning her slightly so her hands brace on the table. I position myself behind her, my belt buckle biting into her backside through the thin fabric of her dress.
Her breathing is ragged, fast, scared and excited all at once.
The position makes her submission explicit, and her vulnerability erotic.
I shove my hand between her thighs, ripping the scrap of fabric aside, and three hard, demanding fingers find her entrance.
She’s soaking wet, ready and waiting, slick against my intrusion.
I watch her reflection in the dark window as I slide my thumb over her clit, feeling the immediate, deep tremor run through her body.
“Look at yourself,” I instruct, my voice a low, gravelly rasp right at her ear. “See how you take me, how you crave this.”
I start to thrust my fingers in and out, the angle deep and deliberate, using the friction of my palm on her wet folds to drive her wild.
Each stroke draws a sharp, involuntary cry from her.
She tries to brace herself, her hips attempting to escape my control, but I lean down, biting the curve of her shoulder, holding her in place.
“Don’t move,” I snarl against her shoulder, withdrawing my fingers abruptly.
She whimpers at the sudden loss. I shift, pulling her away from the table, toward the plush rug in front of the crackling hearth, guiding her to the edge of the low coffee table. I make her sit there, eyes wide and utterly confused.
Unbuckling my belt, the leather snaps. It’s a sharp, commanding sound in the quiet room.
I let my trousers fall to the floor. My erection springs free, hard and demanding.
I stand between her legs, spreading them wide, forcing her gaze to my rigid length.
The soft light from the fire makes the sweat gleam on my skin.
“You take this, Piper,” I say, the instruction a low, harsh breath. “You earn what comes next.”
Her hesitation lasts only a fraction of a second. The look in her eyes is hungry, desperate. She reaches out, her hand wrapping around me, her fingers surprisingly soft yet firm. She brings my length to her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine.
The immediate, scorching heat of her mouth is an electric shock.
Her technique is practiced, greedy, and devastatingly perfect.
She sucks me deeply, relentlessly, her throat working, her eyes glistening with tears of need and arousal.
I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms to keep from coming instantly.
The sounds she makes—soft mumbles, little gasps—reverberate through my core.
I lean down, my hands gripping the back of her head, guiding her pace, the rhythm of my control absolute. “Good girl. Take it all.”
I endure the exquisite torment for what feels like an eternity, every nerve ending screaming. When I know I’m on the brink, when the deep, shuddering climax is clawing at my control, I break away, pulling myself free with a wet smack of skin.
I lift her off the table, moving her swiftly to the floor, where I lay her back against the soft, fur-draped rug. Grabbing her ankles, I pull her legs up and open, draping them over my shoulders in a wide, utterly exposed angle.
I stare down at her, at the dark triangle I just uncovered, slick and throbbing, demanding my attention. My need to control, to claim, to worship is overwhelming.
I drop my head, burying my face in her.
The taste is intoxicating, musky, sweet, and wholly mine.
I use my tongue like a weapon, tracing the delicate seams of her folds, then driving straight for the hot, swollen center of her desire.
I lap, I flick, I suck, giving her absolutely no respite.
I watch her face as I do it, making sure she knows she has nowhere to hide. That she is entirely at my mercy.
She begins to writhe, her fingers knotting into the deep fur of the rug, her breaths becoming ragged, panicked attempts to draw air. The sounds she makes are primal—unintelligible murmurs that turn into sharp, desperate cries.
I focus all my intent on the tiny, exquisite nub beneath my tongue, sucking her deep into my mouth with a demanding pressure.
Her body seizes. Her hips buck violently against my mouth, her back arching, Piper’s entire body rigid with pleasure. A long, shuddering cry tears from her, a sound of absolute, shattering release.
“SLADE!” she screams my name, the sound echoing off the high ceilings, a pure, unadulterated declaration of ownership and climax.
I don’t stop until the spasms fade into soft tremors. I lift my head, my face wet, my eyes locked on her dazed, sated expression.
I rise above her, grasping her knees, forcing her legs wide, and I position the tip of my erection at her entrance, slick and hot.
I don’t wait. I plunge into her, one deep, violent thrust that buries me to the hilt.
She gasps, a strangled sound of overwhelming pleasure.
I lean down, covering her mouth with mine, absorbing her sharp cry as I begin to pound into her, deep and relentless.
I roll us, flipping onto my back, still buried within her, but now she’s on top.
I lift my head, admiring the view. I let my hand trace the curve of her waist.
“Ride me,” I command, moving her hips with my hands. “Show me what you want.”
With a moan of raw delight, she grinds against me, taking the dominance.
She takes full control, swiveling her hips slowly, agonizingly so, until I’m buried deep again.
She rises, dragging fire along my length, then descends, slamming down hard enough to make my teeth clench.
Her eyes are half-lidded, glazed with power and lust.
She controls the flow—slow, languid circles that drive me insane with anticipation, then sudden, violent drops that steal my breath.
I watch the rise and fall of her breasts, the sweat on her skin, the determination on her face.
Her power, her willingness to take what she wants, is the most exquisite thing I have ever witnessed.
I lift my hands, cupping her hips and matching her rhythm. My throbbing pulse drives her harder, faster. The magic around us flares, a tangible rush of heat and energy, locking our bodies and souls together in one, final, ecstatic explosion.
I feel her collapse onto my chest, the warm weight of her body against mine.
I’m breathing hard, the scent of her arousal and my own satisfaction filling my lungs, taking root deep within.
I’m still buried deep inside her, the heat of our connection solid and undeniable.
I have claimed her completely. She kisses my cheek, and nips at my ear, nuzzling the sensitive skin with her nose.
My arm tightens around her as the realization settles deep within my bones…
I’m home.