CHAPTER 10
POPPY
Everything was sort of…hazy and fragmented, like a half-forgotten dream, as I stared at the strikingly beautiful male before me.
The angles of his cheeks were sharper. Stubble covered the usually smooth curve of his jaw.
Tension gathered at the corners of his mouth.
My gaze lowered. The skin of his throat was bruised around two puncture wounds that seeped blood.
I could taste his blood on my tongue as shame and lust scalded my skin.
“Did I take too much?” I asked, my voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.
He went completely rigid. I didn’t think he even breathed. “Do you…?” He swallowed hard. “Do you remember who you are?”
I wasn’t sure why he asked that. “Yes?”
He still didn’t move. Or blink. “Do you…remember me? Remember us?”
My heart squeezed. “I will always remember you.”
His eyes darkened, taking on a damp sheen.
A shudder swept through him, and then his fingers splayed on my cheek, causing a wave of tingles to dance across my skin again.
Leaning in, he brought his face closer to mine and slid his callused palm down my cheek.
His fingers slipped under my loose braid and curled around the nape of my neck. “Do you remember who I am to you?”
Still unsure and utterly bewildered by why he was asking these questions, I searched the familiar lines and planes of his face.
I didn’t remember waking up—come to think of it, I didn’t even remember going to sleep, and I wasn’t quite sure where we were. The last thing I remembered was leaving the Bone Temple. After that? Nothing. That should concern me, but I was more caught up in how I could simplify what he was to me.
He wasn’t just one thing.
Casteel Da’Neer had been my first everything —first kiss, first passion, first love, and even my first heartbreak when I only knew him as Hawke Flynn.
He’d been a stranger I secretly watched from the shadows of Castle Teerman, then an enigma of a guard who swore his life and sword to me.
He’d become a trusted friend and then a lover.
His betrayal when he revealed who he truly was—the Prince of a kingdom I had been raised to believe was the source of all the evil in our realm—had felt like it would kill me, but it had taught me that forgiveness was not as powerful as understanding, even though he’d gone above and beyond to earn my forgiveness.
He never grew tired of my endless questions or curiosity.
Instead, he delighted in my thirst for knowledge and hunger to experience life.
He’d always accepted me for who I was and not what I was, whether a Maiden, Queen, or god, and he never held me back.
Ever. He’d been willing to turn his back on his kingdom—and his family—if that was what I wanted.
He would set his kingdom on fire for me, as I would for him.
He had been, and always would be, my equal.
He was my husband. My King. My heartmate. He was…
“You’re my everything ,” I swore to him. The earthy, fresh sense of relief flowed from him. “I could never not know who you are to me.”
This time, a guttural noise came from deep within Casteel. Before I could take a breath, he wrapped his arms so tightly around me that it left no space between us. In a heartbeat, his mouth was on mine.
Casteel kissed me, but it was never just a kiss.
Like what he meant to me, it was everything .
It had always been that way. Even from the very start, when I asked him to kiss me under the willow tree.
I’d said please, and he’d told me I didn’t have to ask twice and never had to beg.
With only the touch of his lips to mine, I’d been lost in him. In the beginning of us.
That hadn’t changed.
And it never would.
I was swept away as much now as I was then, when it had been the softest, gentlest kiss.
But gods…there was nothing gentle about how his lips claimed mine now. It was fierce, bordering on harsh, full of pent-up worry, and urgent with a bone-deep longing. His tongue swept past my lips, tangling with mine, likely tasting his blood.
Tiny shivers hit every part of me as I clutched his bare shoulders, vaguely aware of the small currents of energy that continued to radiate from his skin to mine.
Molten heat gathered low in my stomach as his hand swept down my spine, sending a pulse of blade-sharp need through me, but I pulled back so I could see him. “Are you sure I didn’t take too much?”
“Positive.” He smoothed his hand over my cheek, his fingers softly trailing over one of my scars.
“It feels like I did.”
“You didn’t.”
Guilt still gnawed at me as my gaze swept over his features once more and then lowered. It was hard to look at the angry wound on his throat, knowing I had caused it—
I had caused that. With my fangs .
I stiffened, then jerked back again, catching him off guard. This time, I plopped down on my ass and lifted my fingers to my mouth. Good gods, I actually had fangs. They had come in after I—
After I ended the Blood Queen. Isbeth. My mother .
My throat dried. While my head was still a bit of a disjointed mess with memories forming with hazy edges, the terror in her face and her voice was all too clear as I broke her bones and…
shattered her spine before she took her last breath.
Casteel had wanted me to look away, but I hadn’t. Maybe I should’ve.
Chest squeezing, I shut those thoughts down. I wasn’t ready to really go there.
“Poppy?”
I glanced up at Casteel, picking up on the concern in his voice. “I forgot,” I said, poking at my teeth. “I have fangs.” I dropped my hand.
Casteel stared at me for a moment, and then he let out a deep, throaty laugh.
“What?” I asked.
“Gods, I’ve missed you.” He closed the distance between us in one fluid motion, his palms sliding up my bare arms. The rough calluses from years of handling a sword caused a wave of heat to surge through my body as energy danced from his skin to mine.
He tugged me onto my knees and against his hard chest.
“Poppy, I…” he said, his voice straining. I felt his hand tremble as he cupped my cheek.
I searched his gaze, feeling tangy anguish with a touch of bitterness brushing against my senses. My heart turned over heavily. “Cas—?”
His lips met mine, and the knot of turmoil within him seemed to loosen, unraveling slowly.
The kisses were slow and infinitely tender but no less fierce than the deeper ones that bordered on madness.
A tremor swept through me as my blood heated, stirring the essence beneath my skin.
The spicy, smoky flavor of his lust mingled with the sweet and rich taste of his love as he circled an arm around my waist. He deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine and then flicking over the tip of my fang.
I gasped as an intense, nerve-frying pulse of red-hot pleasure shot from there straight to my core. My gods. Would it always feel like that ? With just a touch of his tongue to a fang? My eyes closed, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, burying my fingers in his hair.
He pulled me tightly to him, and I felt the length of him hard and thick against my belly.
Groaning, he broke the kiss. His head dropped to the crook of my neck. “Gods, Poppy.” He breathed in deeply. “You have no idea…” He kissed the skin next to the sleeve of my gown. “How much self-control it’s taking for me not to get between those pretty thighs of yours and then inside you.”
A surge of liquid heat pounded through me, gathering in that area he had just spoken of.
His lips grazed the slope of my neck. “I want to…” he whispered, nudging my head back, his mouth traveling up the column of my throat. “I want to fuck you until neither of us knows where we end and the other begins.”
A heady flush stained my skin as muscles low in my stomach coiled. My heart pounded. “I want that, too.”
Casteel’s hand slid up my back as he pressed a kiss to my neck. “That’s not helping when I’m trying to behave myself.”
I shivered as I felt his warm breath against my pulse. “Why would you do such an out-of-character thing?”
Casteel’s chuckle was low and smoky. “Because I’m trying to be mature.” He fisted his hand in my braid and pulled my head back more.
The hold was possessive. Dominant. And the essence flared inside me, almost as if it were its own entity, urging me to push back—to take control. But at the same time, his actions sent a wanton bolt of heated desire through me.
His chest rumbled against mine as he no doubt picked up on the scent of my desire. “Poppy,” he growled. He nipped at my skin, dragging a sharp whimper from me. “I’m trying to be responsible.”
The ache between my thighs pulsed. “It really doesn’t seem that way.”
“I know.” His hold on my braid loosened. “I’m really bad at behaving.”
“It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
“I do remember a time when you found that personality trait of mine to be quite infuriating,” he noted.
“True,” I admitted. “But, at the same time, I enjoyed that infuriating trait of yours.”
“I know,” he repeated, inhaling deeply. “The scent of your desire—the taste of it? Sweet and spicy.” A low rumble came from his chest as he closed his eyes. “I want to drown in it.”
I leaned into him, wanting him to be really, really irresponsible. His eyes reopened, and there was a…faint silver glow behind his dilated pupils.
I halted, my lips parting as I watched the aura brighten. I was pretty sure I’d never seen that in his eyes before.
“But…” He drew in a deep breath. “You’ve been asleep, Poppy.”
Something in his tone silenced the budding questions about the aura of eather. Unease crept to life, cooling the heat in my blood.
“And you weren’t just sleeping, Poppy. You were in stasis.”
I started to frown, but something about what he said stirred up memories of darkness—vast, endless nothingness that wasn’t…what? I wasn’t sure where my thoughts were going with that. “How long?”