Reiven
I used to fucking loathe the moonlight. Too soft, too ethereal. Its light was a cold embrace, much unlike the warmth of the sun. The moon’s natural connection to the tides may have had something to do with my distaste for it, too, but that was before.
Before her.
Flames crackled and popped within the fireplace on the other side of my bedroom, greedily gnawing away at the wood. Destruction contained. The heat unfurling through the room sank into my skin, and I closed my eyes, guiding it to flow through my hands.
Focus.
Setting a catastrophic blaze was one thing.
Not starting fires required a certain level of restraint I wasn’t exactly well known for.
It didn’t come naturally like the muscles, or the sexy hair, or the incredible sense of humor.
All I heard growing up was, “Stay in control, Reiven,” over and over.
Surely Mother and Father would have been satisfied to see me warming a metal bowl without melting it or setting the room on fire.
So damn in control that not even the delicate scent of vanilla drifting from the liquid inside the bowl distracted me.
“Your Majesty,” Zephra sang from her place on my bed.
In two words, my concentration shattered.
Muscles I hadn’t even realized were taut relaxed at her voice, and my eyes opened of their own accord, burning scarlet in the reflection of the bowl’s contents.
The metal dish glowed orange beneath my hands.
I cursed softly and set it down on the nightstand beside my bed before I actually ruined it and my plan for the night.
Silk shifted against silk, the sound drawing my gaze to her.
Zephra basked in the moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains over the glass patio doors.
The world fell silent, save for the thudding of my heart in my chest at the sight of her.
Arms stretched lazily above her head as she reclined on my bed.
Hair spilled across the sheets in luscious waves.
A hip-length nightdress that rode a fine line between lingerie and might-as-well-wear-nothing-at-all, especially with the silver light accentuating her curves beneath the flimsy fabric.
She gave me a smirk as if she had won something aside from my attention and instant desire.
She’s like a dream. My bewitching, sinful dream.
I quirked an eyebrow at her calling me by my Spirits-damned title, then turned back to the bowl on the nightstand as if I was completely unbothered, both by her beauty and her attempted tease. “Yes, Blue?”
“What are you doing over there?”
“Scheming,” I replied, pinning my feet in place as she padded over the plush carpeting.
“What are you scheming?” she asked. “Something filthy?”
“Maybe you’ll find out if you behave.”
Zephra stopped behind me and eased my shirt to fall away from my body with a swish of fabric. Her touch lingered along my biceps, tracing, testing, treasuring. “I always behave,” she pouted.
Far from it, but that’s what I adore about you.
Her voice softened. “Besides, I missed you these last few months.”
“I know, sweetheart. I missed you too.” Words had never sounded weaker compared to the truth.
It felt more like Zephra had pierced my chest with loving, sharp nails and torn out my heart the first time she dove into the waters outside the wall surrounding Ghrysim Isle.
Her absence hollowed me out, leaving me staring at the broken reflection of the moon on the waves, breathing in the salty spray to keep a taste that reminded me of her.
It was all for the best, and we agreed on the cadence of her visits.
Three months apart, three days together.
Three months of emptiness. Three days of bliss.
A cycle so maddening I considered threatening the Human, Druinn, and Siren leaders into a damn peace treaty so we could just be together, but Zephra would never approve.
Or rather, she’d say Ash wouldn’t approve, that the people needed to come together on their own terms.
The power bleeding through my pores snarled fuck their terms.
I dipped my finger into the bowl before me. Despite my brief loss of control earlier, the thick liquid inside was at a perfect temperature for my intended use. I faced her, unable to hide a mild smirk.
Her eyes fixed on the shine coating my finger. “What's that?”
Without answering immediately, I ran the pad of my finger across her lower lip, leaving a glistening trace of oil behind.
It was so hypnotizing that I forgot to pull my hand away.
Imagining what it would feel like to push the head of my cock between those soft lips, made even silkier by the oil, was even better.
That look in her eyes, keen and already lustful…
She may not have known what it was, but she definitely sensed my intent.
I cleared my throat. “Oil. Don't worry, it's safe for everything I'm going to use it for tonight.”
She curled her hot tongue around my finger, drawing it into her mouth. Gently ravenous. Gaze locked with mine. After a moment, she released the pressure and let me slide my finger free. She hummed innocently. “Tastes sweet, just barely.”
“Well, now I want to taste it too.” I pulled her closer to drown myself in the softness of her body. Warmth seeped through her sheer nightdress and into my skin, igniting each nerve like dry kindling tossed into a bonfire.
Zephra eagerly tilted her head up. Sweet oil coated my tongue as I swiped it roughly across her bottom lip.
Siren venom struck me like a dagger to the lungs, dizzying and all-consuming.
Everything that wasn’t her blurred. I nearly forgot where we were, what time it was, and what I had planned for the night.
My only desire was to taste her lips until I lost all strength and ended up on my knees, and if she commanded me to kneel for eternity… I would. Without hesitation.
Her lips curved upward against mine.
Those pirate tales of how Sirens lured men fathoms below the waves sounded laughable to me until the first time I kissed her.
Hell, I’d drown myself for it. The floor stabilized beneath me, and the dark walls of my bedroom came back into focus slowly, but my senses were sharper than ever.
My focus shifted to the feel of her body beneath silk as I ran my hands down her back, gathering part of her skirt in my fists.
Fire surged from my fingers in a constrained release.
Careful not to even singe her skin, I kept a chokehold on every spark and flame until her dress disappeared in a flutter of ash.
Zephra made a face. “I liked that dress. You ass.”
“I’ll get you another,” I soothed, taking a damn good look at her body.
“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself.”
I leaned down, lips hardly a breath away from her ear. “If you didn’t want me burning your clothes off you, you should have told me last time. Tell me now, and I won’t do it again.”
Her pulse pounded as I kissed her throat, not-so-patiently waiting for an answer.
“I…You’d better get me the same one, Your Majesty.”
“You’re trying to test me, but it’s not going to work. Not tonight.”
Not when I’ve been missing you so much I haven’t felt whole in months.
I motioned for her to face away, but she completely ignored me. I sighed. “Turn, Blue.”
Even a mild command was enough to make her eyes light with heat, her cheeks darkening a shade closer to purple. She obeyed and drew her hair over her shoulder at my request.
The oil warmed my hands as I dipped them into the bowl and rubbed my palms together.
I admired her dainty back and shoulder muscles, which hid a tremendous amount of power.
I would know; when I’d dueled her, it wasn’t easy to hide how she almost knocked me off balance multiple times.
I leaned over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. “May I?”
“What are you asking permission to do?”
“I’d like to…do a better job on one of your orders from back when I lost our bet.”
Her laugh—and the memory of that night—made me grin.
“Are you going to call me ‘mistress’ again? That was entertaining.”
“No. Better.”
“Alright then, impress me.” She said it with confidence, but the moment my hands landed on her shoulders and I smoothed out a layer of oil on her skin, she let out a shuddering sigh.
I worked my fingers into her shoulders until her muscles relaxed.
Slowly, I sank to my knees, watching the excess oil drip in honey-like trails down her back.
Vanilla intermingled with a hint of ocean brine, a fragrance that nearly made me feral.
I needed more of it, needed her closer, needed to taste her.
I wrapped an arm around her stomach to draw her towards me, but my skin cooled to ice when my hand fell on the slight ridges above her hip.
Scars. Letters carved into her skin that didn’t fucking belong there.
Zephra flinched. Barely, but she flinched.
It would have been idiotic to think she’d be fine after everything she had been through, and I couldn’t undo the pain inflicted upon her.
The only way for me to help her was to love her so fiercely that one day, those memories of fear would vanish like smoke.
I trailed kisses down the curve of her spine, massaging her back.
Tremors rippled through her with every touch. “Rei, you’re spoiling me,” she breathed.
Kisses turned into love bites, and the way my teeth and lips left marks on her glistening skin gave me an idea.
Using the tip of my finger, I wrote a four-letter word in the oil coating her back.
I grinned and wrote it again, on the other side of her spine.
I wrote it over and over, one word to overpower what Vaetrik Tynedall told her she was.
She snickered. “I don’t think you have this massaging thing down, that tickles. Are you drawing on me?”