CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT #3
They panted into each other's mouths, gasping and writhing like they’d found rapture.
He hummed in her bloodstream, and his hands explored, following her curves, memorizing her body, and wandering to her thighs to fondle those stockings he loved.
Smiling against her lips, he snapped one of the ties, followed by another.
His hand slid to the flimsy fabric of her dress and nearly ripped it off entirely before he cupped her backside.
As he kneaded the tender flesh, she whimpered into his mouth.
The lace of her undergarments tore beneath his beautiful fingers, and he set a pace, grinding her sweet, soft center against his hardness, playing her body like an instrument.
With her frantic pulse, her magic pressed against the barriers of her hands.
Shit. She was going to set this whole damn room on fire.
Dez kissed down the column of her neck and licked a path back up, as if he couldn’t taste her fast enough.
He devoured her, tongue lapping, and teeth grazing over her throat.
He murmured into her skin a string of syllables that resembled a prayer, an ancient devotion to worship her, before he captured her lips again.
He whispered it there, too, breathing it into her, “Molh havan za vania. Una brelle aspretto.” He sighed like his soul untethered. “Senta el mio.”
The words sounded so pretty on his tongue, though she had no clue what they meant.
She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down hard enough to draw blood. Indescribable sweetness rippled along her tastebuds as a small desperate sound rumbled in his throat. Fuck, she would pay to bottle that sound. To get drunk off it every night.
Dez let her lick his blood from his lips, let her take all she wanted, though it dribbled down the corner of his mouth.
Her body hummed, like the ground quaked, an entire universe of stars inside her combusting and condensing and branding her.
As she took his face between her hands, her blood mixed with his.
He turned and kissed her palm, licked and laved away the hurt where his thorns had cut.
Savage ecstasy barrelled through her. A million tiny sparks, sizzled, fire leapt to her fingertips, and she struggled for air as something between them shifted, and unwavering intention took shape.
Dez grinned like a fiend, picked her up by the backs of her thighs, and laid her out on the chaise.
He came down on top of her, one arm braced above her head and his thigh wedged between her legs.
He kept space between them as blood dripped and the thorns twisted inside him, but he didn’t seem to care, lost in this euphoria with her.
All she wanted was to tear off his trousers and have him sink into her. To feel him inside her. Stretching, filling, thrusting until she couldn't bear it a moment longer and came apart at the seams. Until she was crying his name and lost somewhere else entirely. As long as she was with him.
“Touch me,” she whimpered. She sought his hand and dragged it to the throbbing spot between her legs. She trembled, her body wound deliciously tight, as his finger skimmed up her damp thigh. Her entire world narrowed on that touch, like shadows consumed the room as a spotlight fell over them.
Emmery gasped and fire flooded her veins, ate her alive, and she was utterly and completely undone for him.
She fumbled for the button on his trousers. A deep, guttural sound rumbled in Dez’s throat as he slid her flimsy undergarments aside and his fingertip grazed her hot, aching—
But he froze, his body rigid, and he removed his hand.
Emmery’s eyes sprang open. She searched his face for the reason why he could possibly stop now, but his attention no longer belonged to her.
He looked over his shoulder, and when he finally glanced back at her, such unfettered gut-wrenching disappointment saturated his gaze, but for her, or him, or both, she wasn’t sure.
Abruptly, he adjusted himself, stood, and spun on his heel, disregarding her like some whore he’d grown bored of.
Then he fucking walked away.
Suddenly so cold without him, Emmery shivered. She stared after Dez as he pushed through the crowd like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
And he didn’t look back.
Emmery’s heart ripped itself to bits, shredded like paper. Had she done something wrong? Why did he leave? He seemed like he enjoyed himself, but maybe she was wrong. And why did that stem such a hollow pang inside her?
Too fixed on Destonne, she barely noticed the man standing in front of her, offering her a hand up. As her eyes slid to him, she lost her breath.
Though he wore no crown, he looked so much like Dez, they could easily be twins. Gold chains shackled his neck and wrists with jingling bits of metal attached to them. His penetrating stare raked over her body, and her stomach dropped, because his eyes—
They were a startling green. Forest-green. Eyes she’d seen in her dreams.
Shade’s eyes.
Her heart rose in her throat as the Treasurer smiled down at her.