Chapter 53 Lucian #2
I pulled her again to a kiss.
Her tongue invaded, tasting of salt and the metallic tang from my split lip.
I kissed her back just as hard, my fingers digging into her hips, bruising the soft skin there.
Pain turned into pleasure that made my cock twitch against her thigh.
She felt it, ground against me deliberately, her breath hitching in a way that sent fire straight to my groin.
I broke the kiss long enough to spin her around, pinning her back against the rough bark of the tree. The wood bit into her skin, but she arched into it, her eyes flashing with that defiant spark I craved.
My hands roamed up her sides, shoving her shirt higher, exposing the swell of her breasts. I palmed one roughly, thumb flicking over her nipple until it hardened into a tight peak. She moaned, low and needy, her nails raking down my arms.
“We still have a lot to fix,” she whispered.
“I know.” My mouth found her claiming mark and her entire body arched. “Just let me worship you.”
I pressed my lips below her ear down her jaw. The curve of her neck.
“Let me show you what I should have shown you instead of walking away.”
Her breath caught. A stutter in her lungs that I felt through the bond.
“Lucian.”
“Your Majesty.” I corrected again, my mouth against her pulse point. She shuddered. The callback to every time she’d used the title against me, a weapon wrapped in silk. “If you’re going to say my name while I touch you, use the right one.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You’ll marry into it,” I snarled, leaning in to capture her mouth again while my free hand worked at her pants. I yanked them down her legs, the fabric tearing slightly in my haste.
She kicked them off, her bare pussy already slick and glistening in the light. The sight of her, exposed and ready, made my cock strain painfully against my own clothes. I freed it quickly, the thick length springing out, veins pulsing with the need to claim her.
She reached for me, but I caught her wrists, slamming them above her head against the tree. “No. You take what I give you.” My voice dropped, commanding, the alpha in me rising to the surface.
She glared up at me, but her thighs parted wider, inviting me in. That look, all fire and submission wrapped in one, made me throb harder.
I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock nudging her wet folds. She was soaked, dripping for me despite the rage simmering in her eyes. “So fucking perfect, Mira. Your pussy is weeping for my cock already.”
She gasped as I thrust in, slow at first, stretching her tight walls around my girth. Inch by inch, I sank deeper, feeling her clench and flutter around me. My wound protested with every movement, blood trickling down my side, but the pain only heightened the pleasure.
Her nails scored lines down my back, enough to draw blood there too. I set a pace that started deliberately, each thrust a deep worship of her body. I pulled out almost to the tip, then drove back in, bottoming out against her cervix.
“Oh, God… Luc-”
I released her wrists to grip her thighs, hoisting one leg higher around my waist, opening her wider. My mouth found the claiming mark again. I sucked hard on the raised scar, tongue laving over it while I rocked into her.
Her walls clenched around my cock so tightly my vision blurred, stars exploding behind my eyelids. The sensation ripped a groan from my throat.
“Fuck, Mira,” I panted, pressing my forehead to her shoulder, sweat mixing with the blood seeping from my chest. “You feel incredible.”
“Lucian, please,” she demanded, her heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper.
“Again. Your Majesty.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Yes, sweetheart. I am fucking you.”
I smirked. Her voice cracked with frustration turning into this raw, punishing rhythm.
The pace shifted, turning more brutal. Deeper. Harder. I slammed into her with force that shook the tree, bark scraping red lines down her back. She cried out, but it was pleasure laced with pain, her body arching to meet each thrust.
The blood smeared between us, slick and warm, only heightening the feral edge.
She did not pull away. Instead, her mouth crashed into mine in a kiss that tasted of desperation and a tenderness that cut deeper than any wound. Her tongue tangled with mine, biting at my lip until I tasted my own blood again.
My hand slid between our slamming bodies, fingers finding her swollen clit. I rubbed it in firm circles, matching the relentless drive of my hips. My other arm braced under her ass, supporting her weight as I fucked her against the tree, lifting her slightly with each plunge.
“Shit, Mira.” I fought for control. “You feel... I can’t...”
Her breaths came in sharp pants, her body trembling as I pounded into her.
Our bodies collided with wet slaps that echoed in the forest. My cock dragged along her inner walls, hitting that spot inside her that made her sob my name.
Blood from my chest dripped onto her breasts, and she smeared it across her skin with one hand, marking herself with me.
“Come for me,” I commanded, my voice the king’s tone that brooked no argument, the dominant alpha demanding her surrender. “Now, Mira.”
“Y-yes… Your Majesty.”
She obeyed, her body shattering around me. Her orgasm clenched around me with a force that triggered my own, and the knot swelled, stretching her entrance, sealing us together as I spilled inside her with a groan that came from a place deeper than my chest.
I held her there, still buried to the hilt, my forehead against hers as we both caught our breath. The pain in my chest throbbed, but it felt distant now, overshadowed by the heat of her body around mine.
“I hate that you’re good at that,” she murmured against my skin.
“I’ve got centuries.”
The bond vibrated between us, wider than before. An honesty that bodies could communicate when words still fumbled the translation.
We dressed in silence that was warm instead of strained. She reapplied the bandage with competent hands and commentary about my medical decisions that I accepted as affection.
We walked toward camp. Her shoulder brushed mine every few steps, neither of us pulled away.
A raven dropped from the canopy and landed on a branch at eye level. Black feathers. Intelligent eyes. A scroll bearing the Veyndral council seal. Annora’s seal, specifically.
Mira stopped. “Friend of yours?”
“Not remotely.”
Formal script. Brevity as power.
‘Your continued absence has been noted by the full council. The legitimacy of a human queen remains contested. I am preparing to travel to your location to assess the situation personally and ensure the kingdom’s interests are represented.’
I read it twice. The audacity improved on the second reading.
To assess the situation. As if my mate was a situation that required Annora’s personal evaluation. As if decades of service entitled her to inspect the woman I’d chosen and render a verdict on a queen who already existed whether the council liked it or not.
I crumpled the scroll and threw it at the bird.
The raven launched off the branch with an indignant screech, the ball of paper bouncing off its wing as it banked into the canopy. Not my finest diplomatic moment.
Mira watched the raven disappear. “What did it say?”
“Council business.”
“Council business that made you assault a bird.”
“The stupid bird will recover.”
She studied. I kept my expression neutral, which meant she saw through it instantly.
“Lucian. What did it say?”
“A council member is coming. To assess the situation.”
“The situation being me.”
I didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.
Mira’s jaw tightened.
She turned back toward the path and kept walking, her hand on her stomach, and the warmth between us cooled by a fraction.
Toward the kingdom that kept finding new ways to tell her she wasn’t enough.
I fell into step beside her, bleeding and certain that the next few days were about to get significantly more complicated.