Page 88 of A Deal with the Shadow King

“How did your mother die?” he asks softly.

The question throws me off guard. “She went out riding one morning and didn’t come back. They found her body the next day. At the bottom of the ravine.”

He wraps an arm around me, and I hide my face in the crook of his neck. We stay like this for a few minutes, breathing together, and I wonder if I can actually smell him, or if the hints of pears and charcoal are just figments of my imagination.

“I get that you’re not allowed to get too close to me, but we’re not really here…” I trace the arch of his split brow, and he shudders at the touch.

He doesn’t stop me when I close the distance between us and cover his mouth with mine. Warm and soft lips greet me, and with a small grunt of defeat, he dives in for a deeper kiss. The brush of his tongue slithers deep in my belly. He tastes of sweet wine and oak barrels, but with a hint of scorched earth.

A touch of agony.

Last time we kissed, it was unexpected. Now, there’s no denying how hungry we both were for it to happen again.

I push him down on the blanket and straddle him, his shirt riding up to his navel. He holds me close, learning the curves of my waist, and I use a burst of magic to switch my heavy, bothersome dress with the black, stretchy undergarments of my hunter’s uniform. “Isn’t this better?”

One growls at the sudden change, his hands now flush on my hips, and digs his fingers in the flesh of my ass without shame. “Better for crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed.”

I burn for him, the feel of his muscular body driving me to insanity. His chest is a treasure trove, the ridge of his stomach hard and delicious beneath my fingers. The fullness between my thighs is unbearable, and I grind myself against him to add friction to the ache. By the Mother, I wish…

My lids flutter. “I need more. Please.”

He flips us over so I’m pressed between the rough tartan blanket and his body, the weight of him almost divine. He slides two fingers up my ribs to the elastic of my bra, and the fabric flakes off into nothingness.

His tongue dips into my ear. “Just this once… Because you asked nicely.”

He sounds like a wounded beast liberated from its cage. Not at all the voice of a man who’s about to surrender.

Hunger simmers at the back of his throat, and his rough kiss steals my thoughts as he covers one breast with his hand and squeezes it. My nipple is so taut and sensitive that I cry out, my back arching off the ground.

The tip of his nose traces a fiery path down the slope of my neck, and a jolt of pleasure pulses between my legs when he sucks my other nipple inside his mouth, the first one now crushed between his index finger and thumb.

It’s too much, and I squirm below him, trying to cover myself.

One spreads my thighs open with his legs and holds both arms above my head. “Don’t you dare. I want to see all of you.”

My dark Fae explores every inch of my chest, his caress rough and yet not careless or random. His lips and tongue are warm and wet, but never sloppy. Like he possesses a detailed map of my body and studied it long before tonight.

“I want to remember every groan of pleasure that passes your lips. Every little detail.”

Somehow, him giving me more only makes me feel less satisfied, and a desperate moan parts my lips. “Please.”

With a wicked laugh—the sort of sound I’d expect to hear from Two—he slides his hand to the apex of my thigh, inching lower, until he’s right where I need him. I feel like a fish dangling off his hook, but still, he denies me.

A tortured breath rushes in. “You’re cruel, my dark Fae.” A long finger pushes inside me, and my head snaps back to the blanket. “So cruel…”

“Shh.” His eyes burn as he drags across my heated flesh in lazy strokes. “Look at me, kitten, and relax your thighs.”

I obey, and he wets his bottom lip, his eyes full of pride and mischief.

He has the map to those depths, too, hitting just the right spot with just the right pressure, back and forth. The sensations are like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Under One’s touch, I’m not the same. I’m impatient and greedy and a little mad. A storm of fire rolls in, invading my belly, chest, skin, and soul.

He drinks in each and every single one of my sounds and praises me for them until my lips tremble, the pleasure sharp and heady. The storm spills out to the tip of my toes with a violent quake.

“Oh!” The pleasure radiates all over, and I draw in a sharp breath, the madness receding, replaced by a tentative sense of peace.

But still, I yearn…

The friction of One’s clothes on my bare skin fills me with rage. My fingers reach for his belt, but he shackles my wrists to stop me.

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