Chapter 39 #2
He didn’t need to touch her to make her come. His shadows were enough. They invaded her body, swarming over her breasts and delicate nub. He watched her twitch and moan, growing hard in his trousers but he forced himself to stay put.
Because the beast was out.
His horns were heavy on his head, wings looming at his back. His fangs ached from how much he wanted to bury himself into her.
Alora panted and he sensed her orgasm climb. But she squeezed her legs shut and said, “Do you intend to stand there watching?” She bared her teeth in a sneer. “I thought this would hurt but all I have suffered is your mist. How disappointing.”
Rune laughed darkly and retracted his claws. “Patience, my dear. I have only begun.”
Then he slid his fingers lightly along her soaked slit.
Alora moaned softly, head falling back as if she had been waiting for this. She was hot and sleek, and his breath grew sharper as her scent heightened. Her hips rocked into his palm as much as she could manage while balancing on her toes. Her body begged for more friction. For more touch.
The sight of her, of her body surrendering to his hands, her breasts bouncing with every sharp breath. It was a thing of beauty.
“So greedy. You are fucking dripping. How long have you been wanting this?” He rolled his thumb over that delicate little bud, and she made a sound that had him straining in his own trousers.
He was rock hard, instinct demanding to meet her plea.
Lowering, Rune’s breathed over her chest making her skin pebble. “Oh, you truly are going to be the death of me.”
Then he flicked his tongue against a nipple as he sank a finger into her. Alora choked on a gasp tangled in a moan as he curled it against the spot that made her hips buck. Once he was sufficiently coated in her slick warmth, he added another finger.
She writhed against him, her mouth parting wide. He could feel the sting. The stretch coaxing her pleasure.
He licked her ear. “Does it hurt, little bird?”
She nodded, whimpering.
“Good.”
Then he moved slow, stroking fire into her being.
A soft mewl caught in her throat when he found that perfect spot inside of her, curling his fingers against it.
Her cries grew sharper, her breath shaking as her body hot beneath him.
Her walls tightened, trembling as they milked his fingers. Needy thing.
She closed her eyes, her thoughts reaching him in a frenzy. Oh, there. More. Don’t stop. Gods. Deeper.
“Don’t look away, songbird,” he growled. “I want your eyes on mine when you come undone for me.”
Alora obeyed. Her gaze was wild, watching him as his fingers thrust inside of her.
He licked those perked peaks, begging for attention.
The soft little peak throbbed uncontrollably, and he knew she was close.
But he worked her slowly against his fingers and tongue, driving her mad with lust, keeping her on the edge of a building orgasm until she was weeping with frustration.
And her voice, her cry broke his resolve. “Rune, please!”
That sweet cry sent him to his knees. His lips closed around her clit, and she cried out in a shocked gasp.
The first taste of her nearly finished him.
Her body spasmed beneath his mouth, soft and startled, and when his tongue brushed the delicate pulse at her core, Rune savored far more than he expected.
Her essence flooded him.
Not merely warmth and tart sweetness. It was sunlight breaking through stone. It was spring after a thousand winters. Her taste struck his senses like lightning, raw and luminous, carrying something ancient beneath the silk of her skin.
Rune groaned, claws trembling as he grabbed hold of her thighs, fighting the urge to tear into her like a beast.
Her sensitive peak throbbed against his mouth, and it echoed in places long hollow inside him. Something primal and buried shifted awake.
Seven Hells.
He had devoured souls. Torn power from throats. Drunk fear and ambition and lust.
Nothing was as sacred as the crux between her thighs.
His tongue slid through her heat, sucking and licking, drawing out the essence in her core.
Her soft moans panted, her legs trembling.
Rune’s body shuddered in sheer pleasure. She tasted like the dawn. Like forbidden fruit wrapped in song. Like something that had never been meant for him and yet fit the shape of him too perfectly.
His claws slid up her back, holding her tighter against him as he feasted, relishing in her cries and that trembling bud. Her legs wrapped greedily around his face. The heat of her core writhed against him, but Rune forced himself to slow down.
If he drank too deeply, he might lose himself.
Then he might never stop.
And that terrified him.
Because the desperate and dangerous urge to consume her surfaced from the depths of him.
He lifted his mouth slowly, breath unsteady, eyes burning brighter than they should.
Alora gasped for breath, her head hanging back. She would never understand what she had just done to him. She shivered, teetering on the edge, begging for more.
Rune would give her enough.
He twirled his tongue over her clit and whispered one word into her mind.
Come.
The command released whatever held her back and Alora spasmed against his mouth with a scream. She came apart, trembling against his mouth as the purest nectar spilled down his throat. He groaned at the taste of her, it sent him into a frenzy as he drank in every drop with a frantic need.
Caution fled as he ached for more, but Alora clutched a handful of his hair and yanked him back. She had somehow managed to free one of her hands.
“Wait…” Alora gasped. “I think I’m going to faint.”
He chuckled, licking his lips. “You are not allowed to fall apart on me yet, songbird. I intend to make you scream more than once tonight.”
But even in the dark he could see the soft bruises beginning to bloom on her skin from how hard he held her.
It served as a reminder take it slow with his delicate little wife.
Rune released the bindings from Alora’s wrists, catching her as she fell against him. Her legs had no strength in them. He held her as she shook, though whether from fear, lingering ecstasy, or something else entirely
But he wasn’t finished with her yet. Far from it.
Her palms pressed against his chest—weakly, uncertainly. The bond jolted with her bewilderment as she looked at him, the storm in her veins matching his own. At first Rune thought she saw him for what he was, but his glamor had already fallen into place.
“Your burns…” she whispered. “They’re gone.”
Rune looked down at himself, finding all the sun scorched burns had healed completely. Much quicker than normal.
She had healed him somehow.
Her skin glittered with light, the paths of her markings entwining over her entire body. It was devastatingly beautiful. Like a constellation of stars.
He cupped her chin, tilting her face toward his. “You’re a miracle.”
Then he hauled her mouth to his. They collided like fire and storm, ruin meeting resurrection in the shape of a kiss.
It was not soft. It was not slow. It was feral. Alora crashed her lips into his like she meant to break something. Maybe him. Maybe herself.
Rune growled a low, guttural sound that came from somewhere unholy. His shadows erupted, twining around her like silk and smoke. Her kiss tasted like rebellion. Like hope. Like ruin made soft and warm in his arms.
The bond surged there beneath the surface. It had always been there, quiet and patient beneath his skin. But now it roared.
She was his.
His.
The shadows echoed it. His soul screamed it. Demanding he make her completely his. But with this, he would take his time.
Lifting her up, Alora’s legs locked around his waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her center pulsing against his skin.
And her breath, by the Abyss, her breath was fire against his tongue.
She gasped, the sound raw and guttural, dragging from the depths of his chest like it hadn’t seen daylight in centuries.
He leaned closer into her, invading her air. Bracing himself against the table, the sound of wood beneath his claws splintered.
Alora’s eyes flew open, and she looked down. “Did you break my table?” she asked, laughing breathlessly.
Rune blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. Then his lips curved, fangs flashing. “It was in the way.”
Shadows parted as he carried her to the bed and he laid her down.
Climbing over her, Rune pinned both of her hands above her head.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as if she wanted to get closer.
Demanding it. He kissed her like a man starving.
Like a man at the end of the world, because that’s what this was.
The end of everything he could no longer control.
He had been for centuries to taste defiance on her lips and would not waste a second of it.
He kissed her again, slower now, hungrier, deeper, trying to memorize the shape of her soul through her lips. To draw out the power humming in her soul.
He ground against her core, the heat of her turning him into a savage. Alora whimpered and her hips rolled instinctively against his. He didn’t care that she could feel how hard he was, how wrecked by her he’d become.
He licked her skin, up to her jaw, then down her neck. grazed his fangs over her nipple which he nipped, earning a gasp and a desperate clutch of his cloak.
Her fingers tangled in his hair. He ground into her, slow and hard, and she moaned his name like a song she wasn’t ready to sing yet. Damn it all, he wanted to sink into her. But a thought, a reminder tugged at his fogged mind, whispering he couldn’t.
Not when he still hid behind a mountain of lies.
“Rune…”
The soft sound nearly made everything in him go still.
Her fingers brushed his cheek. She looked up at him, dazed. Needing, breathless, quivering, but not from fear. All he sensed was exhilaration. Wonder. The kind of aching hunger that matched his own.
She wasn’t running. Wasn’t telling him to stop.
Neither of them wanted to.