Page 88 of The Dead Saint

“The prince? Revenant?” When he didn’t respond, Sorcha nodded, a sour expression crossing her features. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about me.”

“Do you want me to drag you back and show you what I’ve been thinking about?”

Sorcha’s heart pounded, and she struggled to breathe. Yes. She wanted everything he could give her—pain as well as pleasure, heartache, and bottomless black joy. But not if he was going to be the empire’s Wolf. Not with her. He could be the villain in everyone else’s story, but not hers.

Or have I become a villain too? For wanting what I can’t keep? For wishing I could leave the Aureum Sanctus behind and leave the dead to rest? They’re counting on me. The Saint wants me. Sorcha bit her lip, wanting to scream with the pressure of it all. But I want Adrian.

“Adrian,” she whispered and reached for him, placing her hands against the hard contours of his chest.

There was nothing else she could say. His name was all that mattered. No other promises could be made.

He looked down, searching her face. For what, she didn’t know—would never know—because this man would only ever offer small pieces of his heart. And she didn’t have a right to claim even those. She stepped back, accepting that this was what they’d be until the resurrection. Endless nights spent sleeping beside each other, but only one of them mattered. It would have to be enough to carry her through whatever lay ahead—the last thing she’d ever chosen for herself.

“Goodnight,” she said, giving him a sad smile. “Tomorrow we can pretend we didn’t have this conversation either.”

He swore softly—the word brutal in the quiet—and reached her in a few quick steps, crushing her in his embrace. Their mouths met and locked, tongues caressing. Sorcha wove her fingers into his loose hair, pulling him down to her.

Take me, she pleaded silently. You can’t damage me any more than I already am.

* * *

“I’ve made the choice I have to.” Adrian fumbled with her clothes—hands rough, voice hungry. The fire in the brazier was almost dead, but faint light from the aurora penetrated the canvas tent, bathing them in an unearthly glow. “You know how this ends.”

But do you?

“Don’t talk,” Sorcha said as she helped him remove his tunic and ran her hands over his chest.

So many scars. She would never hear the stories behind each one, never hold him in the daylight when the world belonged to the living and nothing more important than a breakfast choice lay ahead. But she would take this.

Adrian leaned down and took one firm nipple into his mouth as he massaged her other breast. She leaned into him, head falling to his, as she smoothed his hair back. After a moment, he moved to the other nipple, his hand moving to her pussy and gently parting her, exploring her slick folds.

She moaned and tilted her hips toward him as he slipped a finger inside.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “So wet.”

She made a noise of agreement, struggling to think of anything clearly. He circled her clit, sucking on one nipple and then the other, sliding two fingers into her and stroking that inner place. Her knees buckled, and he held her up, fingers sliding in and out as she leaned into him. He moved to kneel, gripping her ass with one hand, ready to lick between her thighs.

“Wait,” she said, stopping him.

Sorcha knelt and tugged at the laces on his breeches, pushing them down and taking his underclothes with them. His cock was heavy in her hand as she stroked him. Leaning forward, she lickedthe head of his cock, swirling her tongue over him, a small noise of pleasure humming in her throat. Adrian’s hands were at his sides, and she grabbed them, placing them on her. He groaned, cradling the back of her head with one hand, the other cupping the side of her face.

He let her take her time, hips twitching, his grip tightening slowly.

She cupped his balls and stroked him with one hand, caressing the head of his cock with her mouth and tongue. He was close. She could feel it in his body, the way he tensed and clutched at her.

* * *

“Stop,” he murmured, hands in her hair, fighting the urge to fill her mouth. “Come here.”

Sorcha pulled away and placed a gentle kiss on the head of his cock, running her hand down the length of him again.He groaned, pulling her up and onto his lap, leaning back so she straddled him. She hovered above him, holding him and teasing him, his cock slipping through her arousal.

“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice was husky voice, her pupils dilated.

“You,” Adrian whispered. You and only you, for as long as I can have you. But he didn’t say that.

Sorcha’s lips twitched upward—an eyebrow raised. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs, waiting for her response.

“Then take me.”

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