Chapter 18 #2
Oleg’s lips were flush with blood when he lifted her shoulders and bent down to fasten the last chain around her waist. Then he stood back and stared at her, his cock standing at attention, glistening at the tip. His chest was bare, and a low blue flame flickered along his shoulders.
Tatyana pulled at the air in the room, and a cool mist covered them.
“Now,” he muttered. “Let me see you, my queen.”
Oleg reached over and lifted the crown from the velvet rest, then placed it on her head and fastened the silken tie at the nape of her neck.
He turned her around, and Tatyana saw herself as he saw her, reflected in the mirror with mist swirling around them. His hand was dark against her pale skin as he pressed it to her belly, and his tall frame and broad shoulders framed her body, fire to her water, dark to her light.
Oleg was the shadow at her back, pursuing and protecting her since she had been mortal. His fire was a red-hot blade that had burned away every defense she’d ever tried to raise against the force of his being.
He kept one hand on her belly in a possessive gesture while the other toyed with her breasts, which were framed by gold chains and faceted stones the color of sunlight.
A jeweled medallion lay in the valley between them, and two more chains hung from it, connecting around her waist so that her body was encased in a delicate net of gold and jewels as the crown sat like a gold halo around her face.
The crown was lighter than she expected, and when she turned her head, it barely moved.
She was utterly beautiful, but she could only glance at herself as she watched Oleg’s face in the mirror.
He wasn’t looking at the jewelry. He was looking at her.
“Queen.” He smiled. “My queen.”
My king.
She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t even speak. The force of her emotions toppled every barrier she’d ever tried to erect between them. Every indifferent mask. Every conceit or annoyance.
She was utterly his, raw with desire for her mate.
“Please,” she whispered. She swallowed what felt like a sob waiting at the back of her throat. “Please.”
Oleg turned her in his arms, then bent down, careful not to dislodge the crown from her head as he lifted her onto the rosewood cabinet, moving between her legs and sliding into her body with one smooth thrust.
His warm hands gripped her bottom and pulled her into him until he was seated to the hilt, his erection filling her. She tried to close her eyes—her emotions threatened to leak from them.
“No.” He nipped at her chin. “Watch me. Watch us.”
She turned her head, watching the mirrored walls as Oleg took her in his treasury. She was adorned with gold, the haloed crown perched on her head, but all she could see was the fierce expression in his grey eyes, the intensity of his gaze as he stared at her.
Rippling blue flames rose along his back, and she quickly quenched them with more water she pulled from the air.
The walls surrounding them misted, creating a blurred kaleidoscope—fragments of images—a moving mosaic of flesh and gold and fire.
Oleg’s body was her personal work of art, long muscled legs rising to tight buttocks, a muscled back, and broad shoulders that flexed as he made love to her.
The collision of visual, elemental, and physical sensation threatened to topple her, and her climax took Tatyana by surprise.
She gasped at the sharp snap of pleasure that coursed through her body and arched her back. She felt the tug of the chains under her breasts, bringing her nipples to newly sensitive peaks as they brushed against her mate’s chest.
The climax went on and on, and she felt Oleg’s hand catch her as she started to lean to the side. She grabbed his shoulders but kept her back straight.
“Crown,” he growled. He didn’t stop moving, but he did reach up and steady the golden crown as he thrust harder.
Floating in the high of her climax, Tatyana was boneless and utterly spent.
Come. Come. Come, she silently begged him.
Oleg gripped her hip with bruising fingers as he climaxed, shouting something in a rough language she didn’t recognize. He clenched his teeth, his fangs piercing his lips as he met her eyes with unspoken desire.
She knew what he wanted.
Tatyana delicately angled her head to the side. “My king.”
He cursed, grabbing her around the waist as he struck her neck with a nearly desperate hunger, his fangs plunging into her vein.
His amnis snapped in her blood and her own fangs fell, but she focused on Oleg, pressing his head harder to her neck as he drank his fill.
She could feel him draining her, but at the same time, his energy fed hers, lifting her even as he drank. It was the closest to intoxication she had felt since losing her mortality.
Her head swam, and she felt dizzy with lust, pleasure, and the aching hunger she felt coming from her mate.
Tatyana leaned her back against the mirrored wall, Oleg’s erection still hard in her body, his chest pressed to hers and his fangs in her neck.
She stroked her hands up and down his back as the fury of his bite eased and his lips turned soft again.
Then he stood straight, his chin tilted back and blood smeared on his lips as he fixed his gaze on her splayed body. He put his wrist to her mouth. “Drink.” His voice was barely human. A growl more than a voice. “I want your fangs.”
Tatyana locked her eyes on his, brushing her lips against his skin before she bit, giving him softness when he clearly anticipated greed.
“Huh.” Oleg let out a hard breath, bracing his arm on the edge of the cabinet as he watched her take his vein with exquisite care.
His brow furrowed in concentration as he watched her, his expression a mosaic of flickering emotions as she took his blood.
Confusion. Wonder. Suspicion. Need.
So much need.
He was her firebird.
Her phoenix.
A king rising from the ash of violence and pain.
A hard king.
But her king.
Tatyana drank down his blood, and Oleg’s energy brushed against hers as if testing its welcome. He was her mate. His amnis lived in her already, but this was something new. Something delicate and warm and gentle.
“Tatyana Vorona.” His voice was barely audible. “What are you doing to me?”
I am loving you.
She said nothing, pressing his other hand to her heart in silence as she sipped from his vein.
I am loving you, my Oleg.
As no one else can.