Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
Cara
Icouldn’t sleep that night. I woke up in the middle of the night and stared at the ceiling, my heart pounding. The terror was not for myself but for Tay, wherever he was.
I glanced at Fear beside me, wishing he was awake to give me company. Even though he could be the most exasperating company, he was also comforting.
“What are you doing to me, Lightbringer? It’s your mate bond with Shadowbane that is driving me mad, isn’t it?”
Because I thought of Fear far too often in ways that did not suit mere allies. Even now, taking in the powerful line of his shoulder, the place where the sheet had slid away to reveal his even olive skin, desire whispered under the surface of all my other thoughts.
“Definitely your fault.”
It wasn’t as if the dragon could disagree. If she wouldn’t speak to me, she would bear the allegations.
Fear stirred, and then his eyes opened. His golden eyes seemed to glow in the dark. “Cara?”
I had wanted him to wake up. I’d willed him to wake up. And now that he was awake, I wasn’t sure what to do with him. To be fair, I never knew what to do with Fear.
“I know you’re still angry. But we are allies, aren’t we?”
His lips quirked. “Always. Always the best of allies.”
“Then would you distract me for tonight?” The words came out sounding too vulnerable. Too raw. “It’s stupid. Never mind.”
I rolled away from him.
“It’s not stupid,” he told me, and his hand swept over my thigh to my hip. Over the blanket, and yet I still felt every trace of his touch through the fabric, through my skin, through my flesh.
His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth moved over mine with devastating patience, and the terrible machinery of my thoughts began to stutter. Slow. Break apart.
He kissed me slowly, carefully, as if he was undoing knots. As if he knew exactly how tightly wound I had become. The warm strength of his shoulders beneath my palms was the most comforting thing in the world.
Fear leaned down over me without breaking the kiss. The weight of him surrounded me. Encompassing. Safe in a way that startled me.
His mouth left mine only long enough to press against my throat.
Every brush of his lips felt deliberate. Intentional. He was savoring the reactions he drew from me.
I tipped my head back against the pillow with a shaky breath as his mouth moved lower, the scrape of his teeth against my skin sending heat curling through me. His hand slid beneath the hem of my tunic at last, his palm warm against my waist.
I shivered.
“There,” he murmured against my throat, sounding pleased with himself. “Your thoughts are quieter already.”
“You’re insufferable,” I whispered, though it came out breathless.
His maddening mouth twitched into a smile. “And yet you asked me.”
The reminder should have made me bristle. He had accused me of not wanting to owe him anything, even my satisfaction. But I didn’t have it in me tonight; my defenses were gone. Instead, heat shot through my body like an arrow.
Fear lifted himself slightly, enough to look down at me. Tousled dark hair fell over his brow. His golden gaze fixed on my face with devastating attention. He paused, and something inside me twisted painfully. Did a part of him still not trust me entirely?
“I’ll owe you.” I reached up before I could think better of it and slid my fingers into his hair, brushing it back from his forehead.
Fear went still beneath my touch. “You say that as if I ever wanted repayment.”
The words hit hard enough that I looked away.
Fear’s hand slid higher beneath my tunic, spanning my ribs now, his thumb brushing slowly over bare skin.
I caught his mouth again before he could speak, kissing him harder this time, and the sound Fear made against my lips was low and rough enough to send a thrill through me. I liked affecting him.
His control slipped slightly as he kissed me back, one hand sliding into my hair, the other pulling me closer beneath him until I could feel the hard planes of his body against mine through far too little fabric.
I arched instinctively when his hand slid up my side, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast through the thin fabric of my tunic, and Fear inhaled sharply against my mouth at my reaction.
Fear’s mouth dragged slowly from mine again, down my jaw, my throat. His lips parted against my skin. My fingers ran through his hair, then cupped the back of his head, pausing him there against my throat.
“I’m always thinking about you. Is it the bond?”
He sucked on my skin, not quite hard enough to bruise, and my hips arched, seeking his. When he answered, his breath ghosted over the damp skin, the mark he had made.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a mate bond before.”
His mouth continued its exploration, halted by the collar of my tunic. His warm, heavy palm slid up my skin under the fabric, pushing it up. I rolled up to sit so I could get the damned thing off. I wanted more of his mouth on my body.
His eyes widened, taking me in, as I stripped off the tunic. He reached eagerly to help me, and when he pulled the tunic off, his gaze roamed over my body, full of hunger. He tossed it across the room.
I felt warmed by the way he studied me, as if I were as beautiful as any of the Fae or shifters that crossed our path. More. He looked at me as if I were more.
“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” he confessed. “The bond or…”
He cut himself off. His mouth pressed beneath my ear again, slower this time, and I felt the effort of his restraint in the soft brush of his lips and the tense lines of his body.
That restraint felt unbearably intimate. I touched his face then, without thinking, my fingertips brushing his cheekbone. Fear leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. He turned his face to mine, his lips finding mine again in long, slow kisses.
I wanted him to feel chosen. That thought felt reckless and dangerous when I wasn’t ready to be his mate, not forever. But he deserved to feel loved, worthy, safe with me.
I couldn’t bear the distance between us anymore. I deepened the kiss, letting the raw need I felt for him come through my touch even if I could not find the words. I teased his lips apart and lapped into his mouth.
Heat unfurled fast and dizzying. He checked me with a hand on my cheek, pulling away slightly, and I felt as if I were falling back to earth, slightly dizzy and confused. Then he murmured, “I love kissing your mouth, but I want to taste you everywhere.”
My first impulse was to move us to coming together. But he had teased me about owing him, and he had brought it up for a reason. It felt reckless, but I tried to let my defenses fall a little more.
“I would like that very much.” My voice came out rougher than I expected, and his gaze sharpened.
He moved down my body, stopping to suck on my nipples, then tracing a line of kisses down my belly. Then he drew my underwear down as he moved down my thighs. I raised my hips to help me, and he rewarded me with a kiss against my thigh.
Fear settled himself between my thighs. He kissed the top of my mound, careful and reverent, and when my hips jerked, he smiled against my skin.
I almost reached for him. “You should let me—”
“You should let me take care of you,” he interrupted, and he brushed his thumb over my mound, then down, teasing around my lips.
I made a small helpless sound, and his pupils dilated with need. I surrendered. He needed me to relax into being cared for, and I needed him. I let my legs fall open, even though it was hard for me to open myself like that, to be vulnerable.
“Please do,” I murmured. “Take care of me.”
His thumb circled through my folds. He watched me with a curious gaze, as if he was enjoying figuring out exactly what worked best on me.
His thumb worked against me expertly, and I made another small, needy sound, my knees trying to close against the sensation pulling me toward my orgasm too sharply.
He paused to move up on the bed, leaning over my body.
He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, slow and tender.
I followed him when he pulled away, only to realize he had my wrists in his big hand.
He gave me a devilish smile as his leg pinned mine, thigh over thigh.
“You’re going to let me take care of you for once? ”
I laughed at that, though it trailed into breathlessness as his hand slid between my thighs again. My voice came out thready. “You take care of me all the time.”
His gaze flew to mine, and for a split second, there was a flash of genuine surprise across his face. Something wrenched inside me to think that he felt unseen despite all he did.
But there was nothing for me to say. His hand was against me, working steadily, and I was cresting higher and higher, rising toward my orgasm.
Then abruptly, he cursed—a desperate, needy sound—and he sank between my thighs. His arms wrapped my thighs, drawing them onto his shoulders, locking around my legs so that I could not escape him. His tongue traced a wet, hot stripe up, and my back arched. I almost saw stars.
“Fear. Gods. Fear.” I was babbling, but it only seemed to drive him to greater efforts as his mouth went to work on my clit. His tongue thrust inside me, his mouth sucking, as if every sound I made spurred him on. I tensed, my hips trying to rise, but there was no escaping his grip.
Then, suddenly I was shattering around his mouth. I wasn’t sure I was even saying his name anymore. Now I did see stars.
When I was done shaking against his mouth, and I collapsed into the pillows, hot and sated, he moved back up to kiss me. His mouth was warm, and he pulled away just far enough to murmur, “It’s not a debt when it brings me such joy watching you writhe against my tongue.”
My cheeks flushed slightly. I was definitely no prude—I had tried to take my pleasure with the village boys, for as well as that had worked—but there was something about dirty talk that, for me, had always felt too exposed.