Chapter 37 Flames and Mercy
FLAMES AND MERCY
The second bedroll hit the ground with a heavy thud, and Ella blinked at it, then at him, disbelief catching in her voice as she said, “Seriously?”
Jakobav didn’t answer. He crouched with a slow intensity, dark hair sliding forward as he worked at the leather strap, loosening it until the roll spilled open across the ground.
The fire cracked between them.
She crossed her arms and tried to hold her ground. “After all that…the wine, the stories, the…” She faltered, suddenly flustered, unable to summon a third thing. “You’re going to make me sleep over there?”
He stood and walked back to her as one corner of his mouth curved, but there was nothing kind in it. She huffed a breath, then rolled her shoulders back.
He glanced past her to the fire and then back down at her, his voice low and certain. “Will you move?”
Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
Before she could find words, he was already working. He bent and grabbed the first bedroll in one smooth motion, slinging it over his shoulder as he crossed in front of her with a slow, unhurried stride, shadows rippling over the broad planes of his back and shoulders.
“Jake…” Her voice broke on his name, hovering somewhere between warning and plea.
He didn’t answer or explain. He simply held the bedroll over the fire, and for a heartbeat nothing happened, the cloth unrolled and hanging there as if waiting for judgment and execution. The seams surrendered with a sudden whoosh and flames leapt greedily upward.
Ella’s mouth fell open. “What the—”
“You’re not sleeping apart from me tonight,” he said, his voice rough enough to kindle warmth deep in her stomach. “Or ever again if I can help it.”
The burning cloth curled inward on itself, ash breaking apart and drifting into the night air as he stepped back toward her, a current following him like a tide.
Firelight ran up the black ink etched along his corded forearms, muscles shifting beneath skin as his hands dropped loosely to his sides, danger in every measured movement.
Her pulse stumbled, and she swayed, unsure if it was the wine or just him. “That’s…one way to say it.”
“That’s the only way to say it.”
He stopped in front of her, so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. His hungry gaze held her captive, heat rolling off him until the very air felt as if it might ignite.
“Take off your clothes, Princess,” he said, radiating dominance, smooth enough to ruin her. Her breath caught hard in her throat.
“Fuck.” Her lips trembled around the word, her voice more prayer than curse, slipping from her before she even realized, Jakobav’s command still hanging in the air.
He didn’t blink. He only watched her from his full height, dark eyes catching every flicker of firelight, waiting to see if she would obey.
She did.
The wine that still coursed through her blood, the hours of sharing stories, the bedroll he’d burned to ash, and the vow he’d spoken—to never sleep apart from her again, all of it had her standing taller instead of shrinking back.
Her fingers found the laces at her bodice, and she pulled at them slowly, intentionally, as though each loosened knot was a promise she meant only him to hear.
She wasn’t nervous, not tonight.
Piece by piece, she let the fabric fall away, and his gaze never wavered; he tracked every inch she revealed with relentless fixation, like a man engraving her into memory.
The last barrier slipped from her body, her undergarments pooling at her feet. She looked at him through lowered lashes, her stomach tightening at the sight that met her.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it, his fingers flexing at his sides—restrained movements belonging to a predator holding himself back from a strike.
The firelight revealed the hard, unmistakable shape straining against his pants, and memory crashed into her; she’d felt him before, wanted all of him before they were interrupted.
But now? No one knew where she was, no one to interrupt.
The thought, equal parts terrifying and intoxicating, sparked a need she could no longer quiet.
Ella’s tongue brushed her bottom lip before she could stop it, and his jaw tightened in response.
The size of him was impossible to ignore, every shift a reminder of the strength she’d felt when he’d pinned her before, the sheer force he could use now if he wanted.
His cedar-and-amber scent wove into the night air, rich and intoxicating, flooding her senses until she swore she could taste it on her tongue.
Jakobav moved then—not closing the space between them but stepping past her instead, his arm grazing her bare skin in a brush that left a fevered trail.
He lowered himself onto the waiting bedroll with the casual grace of a man who owned the moment entirely, leaning back slightly on his palms, shadows playing across the ridges of his shoulders.
“Well?” His voice came smooth and steady, eyes glinting in the half-dark as he tipped his head toward the bedroll. “Or are you planning to sleep standing up?”
She crossed the space toward him, her chin lifted in defiance, but before she could sit beside him, he caught her wrist, and with one effortless pull, he drew her between his legs, placing her upright on her knees, close enough to feel the heat of his desire.
He sat back on his palms, his knees bent and spread, relaxed yet radiating control.
Fuck.
She was naked before him, every inch of her exposed to the firelight and to him, her skin alive with tingling anticipation, her pulse racing so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.
And he hadn’t even touched her yet.
Jakobav shifted forward, breaking his lazy sprawl as his hands found the backs of her thighs, tracing upward in a slow, possessive sweep, his thumbs pressing into her skin just enough to make her shiver.
He looked up at her then, gaze burning like she was a prize he’d fought for and would never give back.
Ella leaned toward him, drawn by instinct, her lips parting in the faintest invitation, but his palm came to rest firm against her stomach, holding her upright, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice a low command that left no room for argument.
Her breath caught, the denial only fanning the ache inside her.
“Tell me you want to be here,” he said.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word falling from her without hesitation, despite the faint tremble of her thighs.
He didn’t break eye contact or rush. His grip only tightened, the unspoken message thrumming through her: she wasn’t leaving this space without knowing exactly what they were to each other.
He still didn’t kiss her. His mouth found the inside of her wrist instead, brushing a single warm line there, right over the black rose mark, barely enough to count as a touch yet enough to set every nerve alight.
She swayed closer without meaning to, evidence of the want pooling between her thighs, the wine still humming in her blood and dissolving the boundaries she never thought they’d cross.
“Good,” Jakobav murmured, his voice threaded with approval that sent a shiver racing through her. “Now spread your legs wider for me.”
Her breath stuttered.
His grip guided her knees apart, forcing her open before him, and she realized with a jolt of shock that she’d never obeyed a command so quickly, so eagerly. She prayed he might show her mercy and touch her soon, because the ache between her legs was already unbearable.
His fingers gripped higher on her thighs, anchoring her there, and then, without warning, one hand skimmed over the slope of her hip while the other slid between her legs.
Heat seared through her at his touch, unhurried, exploratory, until at last he pressed one finger inside her, then two, finding a rhythm that tore a gasp from her lips.
His other hand slid around and cupped her backside, but he didn’t let her go or let her escape that deep, relentless pressure building inside her.
The feeling was exquisite in a way that felt almost unbearable.
“You’re drenched for me already. The memory of that scent has been torturing me. I’ve thought of little else besides the need to taste it again,” he said, his voice pitched low and dangerous.
Gods, the way he said it had her rocking against his hand, fucking his fingers while he tightened his hold on her ass. His rhythm was steady and consuming, his thumb brushing the point of pleasure that made her shudder.
“Good girl.” His lips brushed her throat, his teeth grazing her skin.
“That’s it. Bounce for me.” Then he bit her, just hard enough to make her shiver.
He wasn’t rushing. Every movement was intentional, meant to keep her straining on the edge, as if he found satisfaction in the very act of denying her the release she begged for without words.
“Keep going. Just like that.” Jakobav’s tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek in a way that could have wrecked Ella forever.
“Let me feel you. Every drop of wetness, every tremor, just for me. I want to drown in your arousal.”
Before she could fall apart entirely, he pulled his fingers free and guided her onto his lap, her knees bracketing his hips as she faced him.
She ground her hips against his hard length, desperate for more friction.
As if sensing where her mind had gone, he freed himself, fisting his cock lazily.
Her lips parted without permission, a moan slipping free.
He watched her reaction like he could live on it.
One of his palms slid to her waist, then up to cup her breast, his thumb brushing a slow circle over the peaked center.
His other hand dropped between her thighs, fingers sliding through her heat before pressing back inside her, deep, the movement coaxing a gasp straight from her chest. Then he leaned in, taking one nipple into his mouth, slow and savoring.