Chapter 18
Magic coiled around Imani as if his signature was circling its prey.
He moved his hands to her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed, her bare legs hanging off the mattress. Kiran then moved his hands over her knees, taking his time along her inner thighs as he kneeled down in front of her.
He gazed at her naked core, almost mesmerized. His eyes roamed over her body, desire mounting in them.
Under his increasing hunger, her body cried out for him to touch her.
He kissed the skin below her belly, nuzzling her there, softly teasing her, then ran a finger over her core.
When his finger dipped inside, her mind went utterly blank. He slipped in another finger, and she wanted to let out a low moan, but the binding order prevented any sound. Besides, it wouldn’t do for her to be heard enjoying herself when he’d been such an ass about everything.
Kiran hummed appreciatively.
At the first touch of his mouth down below, Imani took in a sharp breath. It was too much.
He licked around her, throwing in a nip here and there, teasing her. Hunger and desire shot through her core, up her stomach, and into her chest. In an effort to quiet herself, Imani twisted her hands in the sheets.
Kiran was too good.
A full-body shiver racked her body. Imani never wanted his mouth to leave her. Her hips moved of their own accord, and her skin brightened and shimmered as she came while groaning softly.
For the love of gods, he was incredible when he got going.
“Quiet now, my wild girl,” he whispered, blowing on her with a small, satisfied grin.
Imani enjoyed his real smile more than she cared to admit. And in this darkness, in this moment, she could be honest. As soon as the thought slipped out, she snapped it back up and locked it away.
And when his mouth found hers, it wasn’t a crushing kiss or a hard one.
Instead, it was tender as he tested her.
Kiran whispered something in elvish into the gap between his lips, and something in her chest—a spark, her magic maybe—began its quiet hum.
She could feel it … feel that something between them was changing.
Something was growing between them like a ragged wooden bridge that threatened to tumble at the slightest misstep.
But it was there.
He pushed her chest back down. He was rough; she didn’t mind. Imani let out a soft whimper at the loss of his mouth on her. At that, he stopped. His face was now etched with confusion … maybe wonder?
She shut her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see how much she wanted him.
“You are mine,” he murmured. He must have forgotten his own rules as he kissed her neck and she felt him hard against her, moving … wanting her. “I’m going to fuck you now.” His confidence, that lazy charm—it was maddening.
He wanted her.
Or … did he just want to feed?
She had imagined this more times than she cared to admit. And at the moment, she didn’t much care that he saw this as a transaction.
Imani began moving against him, trying to tell him without words how much she needed him inside her.
The elf prince kissed her softly, gently … a kiss at odds with his entire mood. He pulled away from her lips. She watched his eyes move over her face. Imani got the impression he was memorizing the moment.
She shut her eyes again, unable to look when she felt so many things.
Imani felt him watching her as he pushed into her. A small moan escaped her as her hips rose to meet his, and inch by inch, he filled her, and she could hardly breathe.
Maybe she was starving, but it felt perfect.
Kiran looked down at her like she was some kind of goddess.
He pulled her even closer in one motion, and his stubbled cheeks brushed hers.
Unable to control her body as he kept slowly moving inside her, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, quiet noises of pleasure coming out of her involuntarily.
She shut her eyes again and turned her head to the side.
“This feels …” He trailed off and shook his head, as if remembering he wasn’t supposed to be talking about something.
“Kiran … please, Kiran,” she moaned quietly. Her breath was trapped in her chest.
His pace was slow and tender. Imani wondered, as he moved in and out of her, his strokes powerful, if he loved this as much as her.
He nuzzled her neck. “Shh, my darling,” he breathed against her ear, kissing her softly.
Kiran then moved faster, his eyes riveted to hers as if he could sense how close Imani was.
He dipped down to rest his forehead against hers. When his mouth lowered to hers again, that stirring, that unnatural beat inside her chest, spread its wings, the sensation tickling every breath Imani gathered. She reached inside him.
And when their eyes met, Kiran’s lips and nose resting upon her own, wings inside her chest grew and took flight, and Imani could do nothing to stop it. Breathing hard, Imani fell, and Kiran rumbled, “Yes. Fuck!” His hand left her thigh to slide behind her head, an abrasive demand.
“You think you are in control this time, Imani?” He shook his head, and Imani felt his magical signature pierce hers. Drinking hungrily, he took more than he let Imani have of him.
But the beauty of his soul as it mingled against hers was overwhelming and intoxicating. She was shocked and let out one loud moan as she took more—and let him have more of her.
He snarled and threw his head back, letting the pleasure wash over him in waves.
She grabbed at him when he finally pulled his essence away, craving more of the substance that had filled her with euphoria like she’d never known. Her body awakened, her skin buzzing with awareness, as the moon seemed to break through the darkness of Niflheim for a moment to brighten the tent.
But he kept her at bay.
“No,” he growled, pushing her shoulders down against the bed. “Look at me.”
Trembling beneath him, Imani did and watched a shaky smile light up his entire face. In the way he looked, yes, he was unrivaled, but the way he loved was truly unraveled.
He was the most beautiful creature Imani had ever known.
Imani could feel him inside her chest, the part of his soul he let her take. For the first time in her life, she was truly sated.
They lay tangled together, both catching their breaths.
Imani couldn’t see straight and didn’t know what to say. She lay there like a stone statue for a moment.
Kiran softly kissed her then rolled next to her and gathered her into his arms. When he nuzzled into her hair, a low rumble like that of an animal left his chest, and she let out a contented sigh. It only made him grin wider against her skin as he hovered his lips once more near her ear.
“My silly, pretty thing …”
She buried herself closer, still confused. Was this another game of his? It didn’t feel like a game.
The prince held her tightly to him as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of her skin apart from him. He let his forehead rest against hers, kissing her over and over for … she didn’t even know how long, hands intertwined in her hair, both of them feeling a force—like gravity—holding them together.
They lay together for what felt like hours.
Imani woke up at dawn to Kiran brushing her hair away from her face. He stood from the bed. She rubbed and slanted her eyes at him, watching him dress in silence.
When he looked up at her with that perfect curl of his lips, his dark hair ruffled, he looked exactly how he should. She liked him this way—looking down at her, imperfect, himself completely.
There was an odd feeling in her chest, a slight tugging or gnawing, or a peculiar combination of the two. At first, Imani thought it was panic fluttering against her ribs, fear over what had transpired between them, but that wasn’t quite right.
The feeling was slowly pooling out, traveling from her heart like a meandering stream along the underside of her arm.
She tried to brush off the sensation, but the longer he held her gaze, the more the feeling increased.
His eyes and their color had to be causing it.
Such a strange, stunning, verdant hue paired with an unyielding black.
One could imagine all sorts of things while staring into those mismatched eyes.
“Did you ever think you’d sink this low?” Imani rasped to break the tension. She turned and slowly slid to the edge of the bed to stand and slip her robe on.
“Don’t flatter yourself. This is nowhere near my lowest,” he said matter-of-factly, grabbing his shirt and slipping it on.
“Really?” She couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice.
“We all do what we need to, to survive. I did countless things I never thought I would do,” he admitted freely without an ounce of shame.
She supposed that was true. This was also far from her lowest point.
“When will I see you again?” She tried to keep the hope from her voice.
Imani watched in silence as he dressed, daring him to answer her. The prince ignored her question.
“I like this look on you.” Kiran gestured idly at her untamed hair, tumbling around her shoulders in waves, and her naked body under the robe she hadn’t bothered to tie.
He stepped toward her, his movements smooth and predatory, and threaded his hands through her hair, holding her head up.
His voice dipped low, turning into a purr. “And knowing I’m responsible for it.”
She pulled away to hide her blush from him.
He reached up and twisted a strand of hair around his finger. Then he ran a hand up the side of her bare waist. “Make sure you’re ready in the morning with the other witches. Don’t expect any special treatment from me,” he said, voice flat.
Then, just like that, he left.
There were no apologies in his wake, no promises waiting to be broken, or hope left to hold onto.