49. Chapter Forty-Seven #2
“This isn’t…” My breath stuttered as goosebumps trailed my skin. “We should be planning. We should be looking for the stone now. The—”
He chuckled against my skin, the vibration shutting my mouth mid-sentence.
“Always duty with you,” he murmured, lips brushing the curve of my neck. Another kiss. Another slow drag of his mouth that set me aflame. “You never live in the moment.”
My chest rose and fell quickly with the truth in his words.
“You’re deflecting, Aurenya,” he went on, softer now, voice curling like smoke in my ear. One hand slid from my wrists, trailing down my side, pinning me tighter. He held me still as if he could tether me to the moment. “Always trying to carry the weight when it’s meant to be shared.”
He lifted his head, eyes blazing green, pupils fading into their divine glow, barely holding his godhood in check. “Let me quiet that storm in your mind. Let me worship what deserves worship.”
He said it like an oath, like a command, like a plea all at once.
“You don’t get to—” I started my protest.
His lips dragged lower, down to my breast, hot breath against my skin.
Gods, I hated how easy it was for him to undo me. “Tairngire, this isn’t…”
“Stop," he murmured between drags of his mouth against skin. "Resisting me.”
He moved back up. His lips claimed mine, slow and reverent. When his body pressed me deeper into the mattress, I knew there was no stopping him. Not anymore.
The kiss deepened, his groan breaking into me like he’d been waiting to taste it all day.
His hand slid up my throat, thumb brushing my jaw as though he could feel every wild beat beneath my skin. Between fevered kisses, he murmured things I’d never heard—things that stole the ground out from under me.
“You burn brighter than any divine,” he whispered against my lips. “Do you know what you do to me?”
The bond seared, hotter than I’d ever felt it. I gasped as his mouth trailed lower down my ribs. “Tairngire…”
“Shh.”
His mouth left a trail of heat in its descent. My chest heaved, my hands twisted in the sheets, but still he moved at his own godsdamned pace.
“Patience,” he murmured, sensing my frustration, lips brushing places that made me shiver. “It’s a lesson you still need to learn.”
“You don’t fight fair,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
“Fair?” His mouth curved against my thigh, words vibrating against me. “Little Seer, I never promised fair.” His eyes flashed up, glowing emerald, pupils gone. “But I will promise to ruin you for every other touch.”
My breath stuttered, fury and heat colliding. Damn it, he was insufferable. And still, I wanted more. He knew it.
His mouth lingered above the spot he’d once claimed with his hand. He swore he’d taste it again.
“Mm,” he hummed, voice like silk. “I told you. I can taste your desire…taste the ache at its source.” His tongue traced lazy, infuriating patterns along my inner thigh, close enough to burn. “Do you want to know if I was telling the truth?”
Mortification twisted through me, but I writhed all the same, fists knotting the sheets. “You’re cruel.”
He inhaled sharply, as his nose brushed higher, savoring every inch he didn’t touch, every place left empty. The absence was unbearable.
“Cruel?” His teeth nipped faintly, sending my hips jerking upward. His hand clamped at my hip, pinning me down, a merciless chuckle rumbling low in his chest.
“No. This is your lesson in patience. Controlled restraint. And you’ll thank me for it later.”
I was shaking uncontrollably, legs shifting against him, my body betraying every ounce of dignity.
“Look at you,” he breathed, lips dragging closer, stopping just shy of where I ached. His voice fell to a sinful whisper. “Trembling beneath me. Admit it. You want me cruel.”
Shame surged hot through my veins, I arched into him despite it.
His laugh was quiet, feral. “Say it.” His tongue hovered too close, too slow. “Admit it to yourself, to me. Tell me how cruel you want your god to be.”
The bond throbbed like it might tear me apart. My fingers shook in the sheets, voice breaking as the words slipped out, shattering the last shred of restraint I held onto. Maybe if I said the words fast it would be like I didn’t at all…
“Iwantyourmouthonme.”
His answering chuckle rumbled dark against my skin, starved. “At last.”
He didn’t devour me all at once. He teased, cruel and deliberate as promised, savoring the power in every flick of his tongue.
The first touch was achingly slow, a single stroke that felt like he was tasting my will, not flesh, and he let out a very male sound that sent a shiver down my spine. He lingered, licked again, lower, then higher, until heat tore through me and my thighs quaked against his shoulders.
“Tairngire…” My voice cracked on his name.
He groaned low, rough, vibrating straight into me. “Fuck,” he rasped, breath scorching. “You taste like fire.”
Then his tongue dragged longer, slower, tracing me bottom to top in one unhurried sweep. My whole body arched, with a cry catching in my throat. His chuckle was wicked.
“So wet already,” he muttered, hunger rasping through his voice. His tongue pressed, parted, teased, then pulled back just enough to leave me wanting.
“Tell me,” he demanded again, velvet edged with iron. “Tell me you want my mouth to finish what it started.”
I couldn’t. I shouldn’t, so I resisted. His tongue moved again, slow and measured, every stroke pausing right before the place I ached most. My hips jerked, desperate, but he forced me back down.
“Easy,” he murmured, wicked, low. “You’ll break before I’ve even begun.”
I gasped, shuddering. “Don’t stop.”
He smiled against my flesh, tone laced with desire. “Naughty little Seer…listen to yourself. Begging for what you just tried to deny.” His mouth hovered, hot, taunting. “Tell me exactly where you want it.”
I turned my head, unable to face him, mortified by the words trapped in my throat. He caught the flicker of shame in my eyes and groaned like it undid him.
“You’re perfect like this. I want you begging for more. I want to taste your desperation. Look at me while I ruin you.”
I did, and still, he denied me. Languid strokes, starting, stopping, keeping me on that knife’s edge until the fire inside me felt unbearable. His eyes never left mine.
“You’ll learn,” he practically moaned, eyes gleaming like embers. “In time. For now…”
His mouth closed over me. The first drag of his tongue against my clit was soft at first, then he added more pressure.
A broken sound tore out of me, half-prayer, half-imploring.
A single rough hand pressed my hips down, forcing me to take every circle, every merciless press of his tongue where I wanted it most.
My voice choked on broken words. He growled into me, deep and rough, the vibration detonating through my core. Hunger poured out of him, unrestrained now.
His tongue worked religiously, lapping, teasing, pressing harder, until I shattered, gasping his name like it was the only word I knew. The bond between us sparked so violently I swore the entire Weave trembled.
He drank me in like I was the only thing that could sate him.
When he finally rose, every line of him radiated smug satisfaction. But beneath the gleam in his eyes, something else flickered.
Wreckage.
His chest rose and fell like he’d been the one undone, with my taste still on his lips.
He braced over me, close enough for me to see the flecks of molten gold swirling in his green depths, to feel the heat rolling off him like fire barely chained.
Then he lowered his mouth toward mine, voice husky. “Taste,” he commanded, lips ghosting over mine. “What I did to you.”
Heat flooded to my cheeks. My head jerked to the side. “Absolutely not.”
His expression hardened as he hooked a finger under my chin, dragging my gaze back. “Now, Aurenya.”
Before I could protest further, his mouth claimed mine, slow, demanding, and ruthless. My lips parted against my will. His tongue swept in with proof of what he’d just done. The taste of myself mingled with pine and smoke, wildwood and storm, fire and shadow.
It was intoxicating, overwhelming. Forbidden.
Inevitable…
When he pulled back, his breath whispered against my lips. “Now you know. You’ll never forget it.”
The guilt consumed me so suddenly I gasped.
Tears started to burn down my cheeks before I could stop them.
My chest heaved as I turned my face, pressing my palms hard against my eyes.
I couldn’t let him see, couldn’t let the forest god of all beings see me unravel like this.
Not over something I should never have allowed.
But he was stronger, always stronger. His fingers pried mine gently but inexorably from my face. His hand was warm on my cheek, grounding, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Look at me, Aurenya.” His voice was stripped of its mockery, raw veneration in place of his usual arrogance. “You’ve been told your whole life you were forbidden to feel, chained to duty, watched, used.”
A sob tore free despite my teeth. His thumb brushed the wetness from my cheeks.
“But those rules—” His jaw flexed. His stare burned into mine. “They were never meant to protect you. They were meant to keep you bound, silent and small.”
My breath shuddered out, fire and salt burning in my throat.
He leaned closer, forehead touching mine. “There are greater things at stake now than the chains they wrapped you in. The stones. The realms. The Weave itself. And shame…” His hand slid to the back of my neck, steady, unyielding. “It has no place between us. Not anymore.”
Something cracked open inside me. The weight of all my years—temples, books, rites, the blood I’d spilled, collided with the heat of his touch, the certainty in his words.
And for the first time, I let the tears fall.
His wildfire eyes burned with something that twisted deep in my chest. Anger, not at me, but for me. Nobody had ever looked at me that way. They looked at me with reverence, or even worse…with sympathy. Never like Tairngire did, fierce and protective.
But it felt so right….almost familiar. Like we were always destined for this. Like the Fates knew exactly what they were doing when they bound us.
“You think I like seeing you this way?” His voice rasped low, almost broken. “Fire drowned in water? The Seer dimmed until she doubts her own flame?”
A shudder ripped through me. The tears wouldn’t stop. I shook my head, useless.
His hand cradled the back of my skull harder. Then he rolled, dragging me on top of him until I straddled his hips. My knees dug into the mattress. My hair fell like a veil as his hands cupped my face. He held me there, close. Safe.
“Let it out, Astór,” he murmured. His thumb brushed over my temple. “Your soul has always been shackled. Told to chain every flame. I hate it.” His jaw flexed, fury coiled beneath restraint. “I hate what they’ve done to you.”
I shook, sobs tearing free against my will. My forehead dropped to his shoulder. His arms tightened, strong enough to break me, gentle enough to keep me whole. His chest rose steady beneath mine, a tether I hadn’t known I needed.
“Burn as you were meant to,” he whispered into my hair. “Not in silence, not in shame. But with me. Right here.”
His hand cradled the back of my skull. His other hand intertwined with mine as my body gave way to shaking. And for once, I let it. I let him hold me. I let myself break because somehow, impossibly, he made me believe he wouldn’t let me shatter.