Chapter 41
SAPHIRA
Iwas mad at him. I was mad at him. I was mad at him.
Every step we took around the terrace as he led me in a waltz, every brush of his firm body against mine, every flex of his fingers against the back of my hand, I told myself that on repeat, desperately clinging to my hurt and my anger.
But every step we took around the terrace, every brush of his firm body against mine, every subtle flex of his fingers against the back of my hand or the gentle sweep of his thumb against my flesh, worked its wicked magic on me, slowly erasing the last hour minute by minute, second by second, together with the rest of the world.
I forgot it existed as Kaeleron’s eyes met mine, as he led me on a slow turn around the terrace as if it was our own personal ballroom, moonlight chasing over his black wolf mask and casting silvery highlights in his onyx hair.
He turned with me, left thigh brushing between my legs, the hand on my waist tightening ever so slightly as I boldly gazed up at him, as I began to relax in his hold.
The moon glinted off the silver tips that adorned his pointed ears as he angled his head, studying me closely as I eased my body closer to his, unable to deny the need to feel that he was here with me, tangible and solid—real.
The music coming from the ballroom moved at a pace, but our dance was slow, soft, almost sensual as we gently glided together, every place we made contact humming and heating, making my heart beat a little quicker.
Together with that look he was giving me.
So different to the way he had looked at the high king’s daughter.
His silver gaze was hot and fierce, bewitching me as he locked all his focus onto me and me alone.
His lips parted slightly, his breaths as uneven as my own were growing as I fell into this moment and surrendered to him, letting all my anger and hurt fall away, shedding it because I wanted this dance.
I wanted this moment in his arms, with the full force of his focus on me alone, and that look in his eyes that seared me and told me that I hadn’t imagined his feelings for me, that he was sorry for what he had done, and that he craved me as fiercely as I hungered for him.
Heat curled through me as he pulled me closer still, as our dance slowed further until we weren’t even waltzing at all.
We were simply moving as one to the rhythm of our breaths, caught up in the sensations of our bodies as our legs grazed each other and his fingers pressed into my waist through my corset.
I lifted my arms, settling them around his neck, and brushed his nape with my fingers.
His breath trembled as I stroked that spot that was so sensitive on wolves, my instincts demanding I mark it somehow, that I stamp him as my territory, even if it was with a featherlight touch.
He would wear my scent. My mark. He swallowed, his throat working hard with it, and his lips parted further as his hot gaze fell to my mouth.
“Are you trying to bewitch me, little wolf?” he murmured, voice scraping low, filled with the hunger and need that pounded in my veins, echoing it.
“Maybe,” I whispered back at him. I stroked his nape again. “This spot… it’s special to wolves.”
“This spot?” He lifted his right hand and grazed his fingers down the centre of my exposed nape.
I shuddered and my eyes slipped shut against my will, my breath stuttering as a thousand stars exploded and cascaded through me.
“My little wolf likes that. Open your eyes. Look at me.”
I struggled to open them as he stroked it again, sending electricity arcing along my nerves and rousing my instincts, ones that howled at him to pierce that spot and mark me as his.
“Why is it so special?” His gaze searched mine.
“We mark it during our binding.” Those words trembled from my lips as he maddened me with another sweep of his finger over that spot.
“So you wish to mark me?” He canted his head.
“No.” My denial sounded weak even to my own ears when my wolf instincts were howling ‘yes’ inside me.
Yes, I wanted to mark him.
I wanted to stamp my claim on him.
I wanted every female in this world to know he belonged to me.
“How do you mark it?” He slowly turned with me and gently dipped me over his arm, his fingers clutching the side of my neck as his thumb tormented my nape. His lips curled into a knowing smile and he kept me bent over backwards, filling the whole of my vision. “With these?”
He flashed his fangs, the canines as long as my own could grow but the incisors beside them equally as sharp, and the thought of them piercing my flesh sent a wave of arousal pooling between my thighs.
His wicked gaze slowly lowered to his arm where it supported my lower back, as if he was aware of the effect he had on me, and then raked back up my body to my face.
“Ah… when you are fucking,” he purred, making that word sound so filthy that my body responded to it viscerally, desire pulsing through me as it conjured images in my mind of us tangled together, his cock pounding into me from behind and his fangs piercing my nape to hold me in place at the height of our climax.
“Do unseelie not have a mating ritual?” I somehow kept the blush from climbing my cheeks as his hand slid lower, coming to rest over my backside, and his leg shifted between mine.
“We do. We bite as savagely as wolves, exchanging blood during the rite.” He pressed closer as he raised me up, so I was upright again, but the apex of my thighs rested hard against his leg.
“You exchange bites?”
He nodded. “Wolves do not?”
I shook my head. “No. The male marks the female.”
“That sounds about right for your breed. Hardly an exchange of a bond and marking of a claim if only the female must wear the male’s marks.
It sounds more like ownership of the female to me.
” He turned with me, dancing again, his shadows twining up my legs beneath my dress to make me shiver and ache with a need to feel his hands against me like that.
His gaze scalded me as moonlight bathed his face and his wolf mask. “But you wish to mark me.”
I did.
I wanted to mark him, to stake a claim on him as a male would stake a claim on a female, showing everyone he was mine. I wanted everyone to know it.
“Wolves heal quickly. As quickly as unseelie, or perhaps a little slower. A scar can disappear. How does it not?” He whirled with me again and the layers of my black dress grazed the balustrade at the garden side of the terrace, close to the steps that led down into that dark swath of grass and flowers and trees.
“We repeat the rite several times.”
“I like the sound of that,” he husked, his gaze as predatory as a wolf’s as he stared down at me. “Fucking you and marking you over and over again.”
“You already branded me,” I whispered, my voice unsteady as he slowed near the broad stone steps.
“To protect, not to own.” He studied the mark on the left side of my chest, feathering his fingers over it, and his lips curled at the corners. “Perhaps to own.”
He released me and took hold of my hand, tugging on it as he walked down the steps.
“Come.”
I obeyed, only because I liked the idea of stepping into that small sphere of nature with him, where it was dark and secluded, and we could be alone, far away from all the other unseelie.
The air in the garden was cooler than on the patio, and I breathed deep of it to cool my blood as I walked beside Kaeleron, following a path that wound between flowerbeds and fruit trees.
A large pond came into view, snaring my attention, and my steps slowed as I stared at the stars reflected in the still, dark water between clusters of lilies.
I found myself standing before the raised edge of the pond, gazing at those stars and slowly losing myself in them as my dance with Kaeleron gradually faded into the background and those creeping doubts emerged from the shadowy edges of my soul again.
I fought them, battling to keep my head above the surface and not drown in my foolish misery, clinging to how Kaeleron had looked at me while we had been dancing.
How he had spoken of marking me.
Claiming me.
But this wasn’t my world and the rules were different here, and a king might keep more than one female to warm his bed, while also having a queen to rule at his side.
A queen as beautiful as that female had been.
I clenched my fists, refusing to succumb to that dreadful thought, denying it as best I could while my confidence was battered and bruised. She would never be his queen. He wanted me for that role. He had told me as much.
Gods, I wished Oberon was here to banish these thoughts from my mind, because I was sure they were Kalyn’s work.
Or maybe the work of my bastard mate.
Would I ever be free of his hold? Doubting Kaeleron at every turn. Waiting for him to reject me. Looking for lies in everything he said and a sign he was playing games with my heart in everything he did. It was all Lucas’s fault.
I reminded myself that it had only been a few short months since he had turned my entire world on its head, and my wolf side was still licking its wounds. It wasn’t really a surprise that I was struggling to trust anyone, especially with my heart.
But it was infuriating at the same time.
I wanted to trust Kaeleron. I wanted to believe him and not find myself looking for deceit and ulterior motives in everything he said or did.
“Saphi,” he whispered, luring me back to him.
“I’m sorry.” I tried to rub the bridge of my nose but my mask got in the way, frustrating me even more. I shook my head instead and sighed as I watched the stars in the water. “I can’t banish him from my head tonight.”
“Kalyn?” he said and then his tone darkened. “The alpha wolf.”
I nodded and blew out my breath.
“It is my fault.” Kaeleron’s hand brushed mine, a tender caress that chased some of the chill from my heart. “I am sorry.”