Page 98 of King of Storms and Feathers

“Not yet,” he said, pushing my hand away, then stripping his armor and chest plate off while his eyes devoured me.

“Don’t you want me to finish what I started earlier today?”

“I have no patience for that. I want you on your stomach, moaning my name. Quickly, do as I command. And leave your dress on.”

With my limbs quivering, I scrambled onto my stomach, placing my arms at my sides.

He laughed. “Not quite like that.” With a feral growl, he dragged my hips high and shoved my dress up to my waist.

“Gods, Arrow,” I breathed as he stroked the edge of my underwear.

His fingers teased briefly, finding me ready, then plunged inside me. His other hand slid to my breast, tugging material and exposing my nipple to his brutal attentions. “Say my name again.”

He ground his hardness against me, moaning like a dying man. My breath hitched as he fumbled to release his pants with one hand, then I nearly choked on a surprised laugh as he thrust deep inside me. I held on for dear life as he took me savagely, mercilessly, as if he’d somehow intuited that this was our last time together.

Through a haze of pleasure, I tried to picture what those dark wings would be doing if he had left them on display. Would they be spread high and wide above his shoulders as he thrust inside me? Or would they be curled protectively around my body?

I tried to turn and ask him to reveal them, but he rode my body too hard, controlling me, and I couldn’t move.

I bit my lip as his incisors pierced my neck, sliding deep into my flesh, sharp pain, then the most intense pleasure I’d ever felt undulating through me. It was too much. Too perfect. And with a long moan, my core spasmed around his plunging shaft, the muscles gripping and releasing as I came loudly.

“No, Leaf,” he moaned against my neck, his words slurred as he drew slowly on my blood. His big body froze, shaking, every muscle clenched, as he panted and tried to hold his climax at bay.

Outside, low murmurs and the hiss and crunch of fires being banked for the night traveled through the air, sounding muffled, as if they came from a distant realm. My head spun, and I panted, unable to catch my breath as I felt my entire body dissolve into the mattress.

Gods, how could I leave something so transcendent, so blissful, behind?

Arrow licked my wound, sealing it, then wrapped his hand around my neck, moving his hips excruciatingly slowly as he thrust in and out of my body, the wet sound mixed with his short, hard grunts and muttered curses.

“Tell me you’re mine, Leaf. Say it,” he demanded, thrusting harder, grinding against me.

Even now—our last time—I couldn’t bring myself to fully surrender. My cheek against the bedcovers, I shook my head and stretched my arm, cupping the swaying weight of his sack between his legs to distract him.

“Gold damn you,” he hissed out. Gripping my hips, he took control and slammed them back against his body again and again.

The pleasure was intense, too perfect, and sobs wracked my chest, tears leaking from my eyes. Arrow’s movements grew rougher, and he pulled out and flipped me over, shuddering and groaning like a wild beast. Blue lightning sizzled over his skin.

One hand gripping his shaft, the fingers of his other hand still worked inside me as pearl-white ropes painted my chest and he came with a final intense groan. My muscles coiled tight, and I released a strangled cry, following him over the edge and climaxing again, violent spasms wracking my body.

With a rough sigh, he collapsed over me and framed my face with his hands. He kissed me slowly, as if we had all the time in the realms, then nipped my bottom lip and rubbed his nose against mine. “You were made for me, little Leaf. Only you bring me such pleasure. Only you.”

Raking his gaze down my body, he pushed onto his feet and snatched a towel that hung over a basin of water. After wiping himself with rough strokes, he returned to the bed with a freshly dampened towel and cleaned my chest.

“So perfect,” he said as he pressed a kiss on my sternum, his tongue teasing a response from my depleted body.

Three scratches sounded on the canvas door. “May I enter, My King?”

Ari. With the wine that would change my fate.

Arrow raised his eyebrows at me, and I nodded, drawing the sheet over my body.

“Come in, Sayeeda,” he said, his voice a warm, contented rumble.

Ari glided across the rugs, her face serene as she carried a tray that held a carafe of wine and two full goblets—the king’s cup engraved with feathers and lightning and mine encrusted with emeralds.

“Your wine as you requested, Arrowyn,” she said.

“Requested?” He sat up against the bed frame and raised a questioning brow at me.

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