Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
His hands find my hips. The grip is tight—almost too tight—like he’s making sure I’m real. It’s as if he believes if he lets go I’ll vanish and he’ll wake up in his cold, lonely cot with nothing but the taste of me and an ache in his chest.
Maybe I want him to ache a little. Maybe I want to know I’m not the only one who’s been dying every day over the last year.
While he’s been writing his love letters and storing them away, I’ve been pining after the asshole who acted like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Only to find out he cared about me all this time.
I sink into him. My hands chase up his bare arms, and gods, he’s all cut stone and old scars. While I should be freezing, I’m not. I’m on fire everywhere his body connects with mine.
“We should stop,” he rasps against my lips, even as his thumb traces the sharp arch of my jaw and his hips roll under mine, allowing me to feel every single inch of how much he truly wants this. “If we don’t now, I might not be able to.”
I press closer. “What makes you think I want you to stop?”
His whole body goes still. His eyes are open and wild—like he can’t believe it’s me saying this, like he’s waiting for the universe to rip the illusion away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“But I do,” I say, loud and clear and maybe a little reckless. “I want you, Cedrik. All of you.”
He groans, the sound somewhere between pain and relief. “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
Cedrik’s dark hair reflects the firelight, making it appear like he has a halo, but it’s the way his hands dig dangerously into my thighs that could make him the embodiment of sin.
There’s a quietness to his voice when he speaks, like he’s unsure if he wants to admit the words outloud. “I can’t guarantee I won’t bite you. If I do, and we form a bond—”
I grip his jaw, forcing him to look me in the eye. “You listen to me, Cedrik Frost. I would’ve let you feed from me earlier had I not been able to heal you. That gash was down to the bone, and you were dumb enough to not say anything.”
“I didn’t feel like being turned into a frog today.”
I bristle. “Not the point. The point is, I have no quirks with being bonded to a sarcastic-as-sin, yet incredibly sweet in his own way cryomancer who would trudge through the forest after a sacred rooster. You’ve saved me from certain death countless times.
The least I can do is ensure you’re taken care of, too. ”
Cedrik stares up at me, his cheek puffed around where my fingers clamp around his jaw.
“Do you understand?”
He attempts to nod. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Just with you.” I let him go.
“I sort of like it.” He reaches up to remove my glasses and carefully sets them on the cave ground next to us, out of the way of danger.
Cedrik stares at me, then at my mouth, then back to me, searching for a lie. Finding none, he finally—finally—lets himself have me.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s not a question, it’s raw and brutal. I know what he wants now, and it matches my desire down to the gods-be-dammed molecules.
He rolls me onto my back in the bedroll, lips never leaving mine. Our bodies tangle and twist and the world narrows to the place where his skin meets mine. I reach for the back of his neck and drag him closer, needing more, needing him, and he gives it.
Butterflies swarm my stomach, fluttering in ways that send tingles all the way to my fingers and toes.
He kisses down my neck, careful at first, but then his fangs scrape gentle warning lines into my skin. I’m not scared. If anything, I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.
The idea of him biting into my throat sends a jolt of lightning straight to my core. Then the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “What if I want you to?”
He laughs, low and stunned, like the sound is new to him. “Don’t tease me. I mean it.”
“I’m not.”
His eyes roll shut. “Mersi.”
“I want you to do it. I want you to make me yours. Please.”
A growl sounds low in his throat, releasing another wave of butterflies in my middle.
I let my head fall back, and his lips press over my pulse, hard enough to bruise. “Last chance to stop,” he mutters.
“Keep going,” I order, and I swear, he melts.
His hands are everywhere at once—down my back, up my sides, in my hair, fisted so tight it almost hurts. My dress is somewhere around my ribs, and his tongue is hot and demanding on my throat.
I barely notice my magic fizzling at the edges of my vision. It’s not glitter, but glowing and shimmering threads, like that in which spellwork is woven from. They writhe in the air around us and pulse with power, and come from me.
Everywhere he’s kissed, a new thread forms, reaching from him, like it can connect us. And when that tendril connects with his lavender skin, he shudders as if I’ve kissed him back.
“What’s happening?” The words come out half a moan, half a gasp as he nips into my shoulder. Not enough to break the skin, but I jolt all the same.
Then he works his way down and I cling to his neck, holding him close. With every lick and bite he leaves a mark, a memory, a promise that he’s going to go a little further on the next.
We shift, and he looms over me, pinning my wrists above my head with a single hand. His gaze is wild, stormy, frantic. “You trust me?”
I nod, breathless. “Yes. But right now, I really need you to stop talking and—”
He cuts me off with a kiss so deep it knocks every thought from my head. Well, all except the white-hot need uncoiling under my skin. His fangs graze my throat this time, and he groans like he’s starving.
“You’re sure?” His breath fans over my pulse, his lips dragging fire down my skin.
I squeeze his hand where it pins my wrists above my head. “Cedrik. If you don’t bite me in the next five seconds—” I gasp as his hand slips between my thighs and hooks the waistband of my panties.
He lets out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-groan. “You’ll what, Mersi?” Slowly, so fucking slowly, he works the fabric down my legs. “I don’t hear an answer.”
I swallow.
As soon as my panties clear my knees, his hand glides back up the inside of my thigh until he discovers just how wet I am for him. Cedrik circles my clit once, twice, making my hips raise and my breaths shaky.
“I see,” he says with a grin that’s all fangs. He sits back, making room for him to trail his soaked fingers up my body, so he can follow the path with his tongue.
With my hands held by one of his, I’m at his mercy. Yet, I’m exactly where I want to be. And as he spreads my legs wider, running the tip of his cock along my center, his lavender eyes meet mine.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” His gaze drinks me in, and gods, I’ve never felt so wanted by someone. So needed. So desired.
“I’m sure.”
He releases my hands and I can’t help but let them roam up his stomach, feeling every hard line, tracing every rune and inked marking and scar there. Then he presses into me and I’m so full I forget how to breathe momentarily.
“I—Fuck, Cedrick,” I choke out, my grip on him so tight I’m certain he’d bruise if he were mortal.
“Breathe, Mersi.” Cedrik’s lips crash into mine and he catches my thighs as he starts to move. Every thrust goes deeper and deeper.
One of his hands burrows into my hair, while the other twists my jaw to the side. His tongue flashes hot against my throat, the spot he’s chosen, and my eyes flare wide as something sharp and perfect explodes there, but only for a heartbeat.
Power surges between us like a live wire. I gasp, eyes fluttering as heat punches straight through my core—a different kind of hunger now, primal and electric.
Every pull he takes, sends wave after wave of butterflies through me. My magic coils around us in shimmering threads, sinking into his skin as he drinks deeper.
Cedrik rolls his hips forward hard enough to make me see stars, sending a wave of pleasure flooding every inch of my body until I’m arching up helplessly beneath him.
Then he pulls away from my throat, mouth bloody, fangs slick, and he looks so gone for me it makes everything inside me clench tight.
I moan as he drives in deep, my blood rolling down every muscled ridge of his torso. A feral grunt is my only warning before he flips me onto my stomach, pulling my hips high into the air. My teeth sink into the bedroll, stifling a moan as he sinks back into me from behind.
“Oh gods,” I pant out, clawing at the ground beneath us as waves of pleasure crash over me.
He’s relentless, possessive. His hands grip my waist, hitting some spot deep inside with each thrust that sends tremors through me. As his pace quickens, our bodies come together in a punishing rhythm, pulling me under an ocean of pleasure where I can barely breathe.
Suddenly, he stills, his chest heaving against my back. His hand slides forward, moving from my stomach, up my torso, until it rests over my pounding heart. I can feel every imprint of his fingers, warm and steady, searing into my skin.
His other hand moves between my legs, fingers gliding over the sensitive nub of my clit that’s already pulsating with need. I gasp, my eyes squeezing shut as I arch into his touch. My hips buck while I’m speared on his rock-hard cock, wanting more. Needing more.
“Look at you,” he rasps into my ear, his voice laced with desire. “So desperate for me.” He presses his fingers further, sending whirls of heat spiraling through me.
I come, shattering, and he follows, biting my shoulder—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make me cry out.
We collapse together, shaking and slick with sweat. My skin tingles everywhere he touched. He rolls to his side, pulling me into his arms and holding me like I’m something rare.
“Still with me?” Cedrik brushes my hair with his fingers, stirring the blonde strands into a golden haze around us.
“Barely.” I trace lazy circles on his chest. “That was…”
“Yeah,” he agrees, voice smug and sated.
I tilt my head. “Does the blood thing always make it this intense?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never fed directly from someone before.” His lips brush my forehead before he drinks the sight of me in greedily.
And for the first time in my entire awkward life, I don’t want to hide.
“You’re staring,” I mumble, cheeks hot.
He licks a fang. “You’re worth looking at.”
His hands roam over my stomach, up my ribs, feather-light and slow, as if he’s taking inventory. Every touch is a little shock of magic. And when he cups my breast, I gasp, and he smiles, proud and predatory, like he’s just uncovered a treasure hoard.
“Your skin…” he says, thumb circling my nipple until it pebbles and I nearly arch off the bedroll. “It’s so soft. I don’t think I’m ever going to tire of touching you.”
I could tell him that I’m a mess of freckles and scars, that my hips are too sharp and my thighs too soft and that I’ve never been comfortable in my own skin, but the look on his face would call me a liar.
His palm cups my jaw, and he tips my head to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to look away. I want to see all of you.” There’s a rawness in his voice that’s more than hunger.
I nod. The wordless part of me—the part that always hid—relaxes.
He kisses me. The kind of kiss that makes promises and asks questions. I answer with my body, winding my arms around his neck and pulling him closer.
He lowers himself until his chest presses mine, until every inch of him is mapped against me. I shiver at the sheer difference—the size of him, the cool satin of his skin, the way his muscles ripple and tense with every shift.
I run my hands along his arms, marvel at the scars and the lines of blue-black runes tattooed from across his entire torso. I follow one with my finger, and it glows faintly at my touch, like a living thing.
He groans, and the sound is so filthy it shoots straight between my legs.
“Careful,” he grits, “I might get ideas about round two.”
“Oh yeah?”
He guides my hand lower, until I feel the evidence of what he means. I wrap my fingers around him, tentative, then braver, and he gasps into my mouth. I repeat the motion, earning a curse and a roll of his hips.
The power is dizzying.
I want to see what else I can do.
I shift, pressing my hips to his, and he’s right there, hot and ready. He tucks his face into the hollow of my throat, fangs grazing the skin, and I half expect him to bite again, but he just groans and holds himself back.
“Fuck, Mersi, you don’t know what you do to me.”
“Then show me,” I whisper.