Chapter 34
Chelsea
Eryx’s lips are hot as he kisses me. It’s unexpected, and my body goes completely rigid. But only for a moment.
Then I melt.
I wind my arms around his neck and tug on his silky strands of dark hair.
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him, his body pressed against mine.
And all the while he kisses me—slowly, passionately, like he’s tasting me for the first time and wants to savor me.
And I want to savor him.
There’s something about eating nightmares that has made me hungry—for Eryx.
My chest expands as the kiss deepens and his hands slowly work up my arms to my face. He pulls back, breaking off the kiss.
When he looks at me, his crystal-blue eyes are full of warmth. His lower lip trembles as he murmurs, “You should have stopped when I told you to.”
I lift my brow. “And that kiss was my punishment?”
He smirks. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
I search his face, trying to decide if I should say my next words. My teeth scrape over my bottom lip, and his gaze flicks down to watch.
His pupils go wide.
“I want it all,” I tell him.
His eyes dart back up to mine and he stiffens. “Chelsea…”
It’s a warning. Eryx telling me not to want him, to be afraid of him. To listen to the scary stories told about the nightmare king.
I take his hand that’s cradling one side of my face, and I place it on my breast.
I just ate nightmares. I glowed with his power. I held something ancient inside me and didn't break.
If I can do that, I can do this. I can choose him.
His hand shakes. “Chelsea…”
“I want it all,” I repeat.
He scoffs. “You are…you are my beautiful fucking monster. Eats nightmares like you’ve been doing it for years, and now you want me.”
“I’ve always wanted you.”
He rocks back like my words punched him in the chest. His hand slides off my breast.
“From the moment we met,” I tell him. “Just like you wanted me.”
He shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Everything and anything.”
“Sunshine doesn’t like darkness.”
“You’re wrong. Sunshine needs darkness.” I let that sink in and add, “And I need you.”
He reaches out, slides his hand over my cheek, and I lean into his touch.
Eryx takes a step in, and his lips meet mine again. This time the kiss is slower, sensual, not like he’s releasing steam but like he’s asking permission.
Which I’ve already given him.
His tongue teases me, and I tease it right back as I wind my fingers in his hair.
His hands slide under my shirt and skim my flesh. I relax into his touch and moan when his fingers slip under my bra and stroke my nipples.
“More,” I whisper.
He lightly pinches them, and moisture pools in my panties. I’m on fire for Eryx Nightshade. I want all of him.
I wasn’t lying when I said that.
My moan must flip a switch inside him, because the next thing I know, we’re crashing into the wall.
How did that get here?
He takes my hand in his, and the moment our fingers entwine, magic shoots out from us, and the next thing I know, my back is pressed up against—
A wall of gold and black roses.
We stop kissing and take a look at the flowers.
“Our magic,” I muse.
He exhales a soft breath. “Let’s make more.”
“Wait.”
His eyes flare. “Is something wrong?”
“Where’s Nightmare?”
“Oh.” Red dots Eryx’s cheeks. It’s adorable. “I think it’s giving us some space.”
“Good. Then it won’t mind if we keep doing what we’re doing.”
His expression shifts, becoming raw, hungry.
Eryx kisses me again, like he can’t get enough, pushing me into the roses. Next thing I hear is a loud rip.
It’s the sound of my shirt and bra tearing down the middle.
“Too much?” he asks bashfully.
I shake my head. “Not even close.”
He kisses me again. “You are my beautiful monster.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
He drops his head down to my collarbone, between my breasts, takes one nipple in his mouth and I moan.
“Because I never ate nightmares like that on my first try. You did. And you didn’t listen to me.”
“Listening is overrated.”
He laughs. “I don’t think so.”
I pull his hair, and he’s standing again, kissing me, his hands stroking my breasts, pinching my nipples.
My breath hitches and he smirks. “Too much?”
“Not enough.”
He pulls back and takes a long look at me, drinking me in. “You are so beautiful.”
My gaze skims his bare chest, landing on his wounds. My throat tightens because he’s so beautiful, so hurt. So…everything. “You’re still healing.” I reach out and touch the puckered flesh right about his heart. “You saved me.”
I trace the lines, the angry pink wounds, and I step in to him and press my lips to the deepest gash. “Thank you.”
He hooks a finger under my chin and tips my face until our eyes meet. “I would do it again. And again and again. I would always choose you.” His voice drops. “Because I’ve…I’ve been waiting for you.”
The words hang between us. Raw. True. Ten years alone with Nightmare. Ten years of darkness.
And then I walked into his study in sparkly shoes.
My breath catches because I know what he means. “And I would say yes every time you asked.”
His chest goes still—he knows what I’m saying. I would say yes every time he proposed. Every single time.
He presses his lips to my forehead. “Saving you was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
He takes my hand and kisses me. Above us, I hear a crack.
We break apart and glance up. The roses have pierced the glass dome.
“We should be careful,” he murmurs.
“No, we shouldn’t.”
He laughs. Then he kisses me again, and his arms circle my back. He runs a hand down my spine and stops.
Pulls away stiffly.
His eyes narrow.
“What?”
“Were you hurt?”
My gaze drops. “Yes. I didn’t tell you because you were already wounded.”
“Let me see.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Kings only ask once,” he says firmly.
I slowly turn. My nipples scrape against the blooms as I face away from him.
Eryx sucks in a breath.
Ugh. He’s gonna be mad.
I wait for him to curse. Damn the monster. Bang a fist against the wall.
But it doesn’t come.
What happens is—his lips fall onto my back.
He runs his mouth down each scar, whispering, “I would take these for you if I could.”
My body pulses—with want and with something deeper, something that’s been buried in my heart—locked behind the thickest door with the smallest key—something I hid when I saw my aunt and uncle’s relationship, how toxic and sad it was.
The door inside me unlocks and is thrown wide open.
I reach behind me and run my hand over Eryx’s hair. He tugs me close and drops his mouth to my neck.
“Chelsea,” he murmurs.
“Eryx.”
His hands find my breasts, and he gently runs his thumbs over them. A moan slips from my lips, and he slowly turns me around to face him.
I feel bare, like he can read my mind, knows the depth of what I’m feeling. In his eyes I see it reflected back.
He feels it, too.
This thing between us, it’s impossible to describe, but if anyone would understand, it’s him.
And that door I just threw open?
He’s standing in it.
“Eryx,” I murmur.
“Chelsea,” he answers, and his lips find mine again, slow, sensual, like he’s in pain because of my wounds.
I kinda think he might be.
He slowly strips me, kneeling and taking his time. There’s no more ripping.
Not that I would have minded.
And when I’m completely naked, he looks over every inch of me, making sure there are no more wounds, kissing his way as he goes.
When he’s satisfied, he picks me up, securing his arm under my knees. He spreads me on top of the chaise and parts my legs, staring at me hungrily.
“My beautiful fucking monster,” he says, his voice raw.
He slides two fingers into me, and I nearly break apart.
“No, not yet,” he whispers. “Let me taste you first.”
He teases me with his tongue, flicking over my clit while his fingers pump inside me. The pressure builds—heat coiling low in my belly, spreading through my limbs. My breath catches. My toes curl. And then I shatter into a thousand pieces.
“I could watch that every day,” he says with a smile.
I’m too spent to move, and when he disappears his silk pants, I cannot believe what I see.
He is beautiful—every inch of him. Muscled and perfectly masculine in all the right ways.
When he slides into me, my lungs catch.
He’s big. Filling me completely. Stretching me in a way that’s almost too much but not quite.
Perfect.
He kisses my nipple. “Take me.” His eyes meet mine. “Take all of me.”
He works slowly, entwining my hand in his. Every thrust is ecstasy, and I find myself starting to climax again.
As pressure builds, he murmurs, “Let go.”
So I do. Power explodes from my body—gold and black, light and shadow—flowing into him, through him, out of his hands. Beneath us, roses burst through stone with a deafening CRACK. The walls shudder. The floor splits.
And I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but this.
As I shatter apart, Eryx calls my name, and he throws up a wall as the glass above us breaks and crashes to the floor.
He collapses on top of me. Both our chests heave. Sweat slicks our skin.
I look around and gasp. The roses broke the stone walls, they broke the glass and around us, Eryx’s nightmare room has been turned to rubble.
I take one look at him and say, “Nancy’s not going to be happy.”
Eryx looks up and laughs. “No, she won’t be. But we’ll worry about that tomorrow.” Then he kisses me deeply and murmurs against my lips, “Besides, it was worth it.”
I look at the destruction around us. The shattered glass. The roses growing through stone. The broken walls.
We didn't just make love. We remade the room.
And maybe we remade each other, too.