Chapter 55
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
F or as seriously as our new not-quite-king claimed to take the sacred traditions of his people, he certainly had no problem usurping the final dance with my wife, one that was mine by tradition and right.
Even if I could have stopped him without causing a scene, though, I wouldn’t have. His actions spoke for themselves. He wanted a reaction. He wanted to provoke me. And for as much as I had already endured an evening of watching my wife be paraded around the dance floor in the arms of my enemies, I wasn’t about to give Iiro the satisfaction of seeing me react now.
Even if my resolve to that end was being tested with every passing second.
It was an effort not to prowl the edges of the dance floor, following each of their movements with my own, listening in on the conversation that was making Rowan’s eyes narrow and the muscles in her shoulders stiffen.
The barest tendrils of relief crept into my veins as the song finally ended, bringing with it the end of this long, tedious evening. I held out my hand for my wife to join me for the final toast, flames snaking through my bones at the contact of her skin once more.
As soon as it was over, I scooped her up in my arms. I held her body firmly against mine as I carried her from the room. Even if it hadn’t been a custom of my people to carry her all the way to our rooms, I couldn’t imagine any force or reason that would have me letting go of her now.
It signified the start of our lives together, and a promise to protect and care for my wife. And it was one of the few wedding traditions we had been subjected to in the two kingdoms that I wasn’t opposed to.
However, I was beginning to rethink the layout of my castle and the necessity of our new rooms being so damned far from the reception hall. The longer I held her body against mine, the longer my thumb grazed the bare skin of her back and her fingers twirled the hair at the nape of my neck, the more eager I was to get her behind closed doors.
“Where are we going?” Rowan eventually asked in a breathy voice that made it clear her thoughts were similar to mine.
I let out a low chuckle, unable to resist teasing her a little.
“Impatient, Lemmikki?” I asked, my fingers digging into her sculpted thigh to let her know she wasn’t the only one.
She let out a small gasp that had me quickening my steps.
“I have been patient for seven stars-damned weeks,” she protested, though nothing I knew about her supported that claim, let alone her tone.
A surge of heat washed over me—of anger and desire and the desperation to make up for every minute we had lost.
“Well, that makes one of us.” My words came out in a low growl.
A shiver ran across her skin, and she pressed herself closer in response.
Der’mo.
There was no more talking after that. Not when I practically kicked open the door to our rooms. Not when I marched her to the canopy bed, throwing her onto the mattress and climbing on top of her perfect, perfect body.
I didn’t bother denying either of us exactly what we wanted any longer. My mouth crashed against hers with all the pent-up urgency from our time apart.
I parted the seam of her lips with my tongue, tasting and biting and devouring her with an intensity she reciprocated just as eagerly.
Her long nails raked over my scalp before she fisted my hair to pull me closer.
A growl rumbled through me and I rocked my hips against hers, suddenly despising every layer of fabric between us. Moving away from her mouth, I carved a path with my lips and tongue and teeth from her jaw down to the base of her neck.
She let go of my hair long enough to grab the hem of my shirt to tug up over my head. Her lips parted, a breath escaping her as she raked her gaze over my bare chest.
A feral grin tugged at my mouth. At the desire that blazed in her eyes at my form, the same exact way it had on our first wedding night. And before that, if her jokes about the sauna could be believed.
I tugged the black lace of her gown away from her shoulders, not hesitating to break the silver chains at her back when they tried to slow me down. Rowan let out a gasp, her teeth grazing her bottom lip in a way that told me exactly how much she appreciated that decision.
My eyes widened, every one of my muscles going taut as I freed her body from the black satin and lace. Each inch of her I revealed was nothing but pale, creamy skin.
Except for one thigh, where a black leather garter held an all-too-familiar jeweled siren dagger.
My gaze raked over her, from the smooth calf in my hand, up her delicious thighs, to the gentle slope of her belly and the ample curves of her breasts, her lips, then finally, the green eyes that had haunted me every day since the moment we met.
“ Der’mo ,” the word escaped me, and she smirked in response.
She moved her arms over her head, arching her back just enough to showcase her curves a little more. My mouth went dry.
Stripping away the rest of my clothes, I wasted no more time before worshipping her body with mine.
With every breath, every kiss, every caress, every arch of her hips and moan I pulled from her lips, I found the redemption my soul had been craving.
Her body was my reprieve, my absolution.
And the release I offered her—the one I found in her—began to wash away some of the darkness that had slowly been consuming me since the day I’d been forced to leave her behind.