Page 39 of Lich's Mate

In the center of this flower haven is a stone bench. He pops open the bottle of wine and we take a seat.

The moon is high in the sky, illuminating the garden with a soft, ethereal light. The intoxicating fragrance of exotic flowers fills the air, mixing pleasantly with the aroma of old wine.

Kavian raises his glass in a toast, his serious eyes catching the faint glow from the moon above. "To victory," he says, and I can't help but mirror his hopeful smile as I clink my glass against his. The first sip of wine dances on my tongue, rich and full-bodied with a hint of sharpness.

Our conversation flows freely from strategies to past battles, our shared laughter echoing around the silent garden. He listens intently as I recount tales of my upbringing in the humble village I grew up in, my words painting vivid pictures of warm summer days spent helping my father in the fields and quiet evenings spent by my mother's side learning to cook and sew.

As Kavian begins to share glimpses from his own past, I listen in rapt attention. His tales are filled with daring adventures and close encounters—far removed from my own simple childhood.

His words weave tales of treacherous political machinations, deadly sword fights, and clandestine missions. Stories that seemed to belong more in an epic tale than a conversation over wine.

Yet despite the danger that constantly shadowed him, there was always a note of wistful longing in Kavian's voice when he spoke of simpler times before his life was consumed by politics and war. It was these stories that truly intrigued me, stories where he was just Kavian, not a famed tactician or a feared warrior.

The hours slip away unnoticed as we sit there sharing our pasts underneath the watchful gaze of the moon. The bottle empties and our speech slows as we both allow ourselves to succumb to the tranquility around us.

A sudden gust of wind sends a shower of blossoms cascading down around us, the delicate petals dancing in the moonlight before settling on the ground. I watch a petal land on Kavian's shoulder, and with a soft laugh, I reach over to brush it off. He catches my hand and holds it for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes meeting mine.

In the dim light, I can see the flecks of gold in his usually stern eyes. His grip gently tightens and he inches closer while a new level of understanding passes between us. He releases my hand slower than he caught it.

Neither of us speaks for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of a bird. It is Kavian who finally breaks the silence, his voice softer than I've ever heard it.

“You’re beautiful, Meera. You know that?”

I blush under his praise. He is a demon and I know that, and perhaps it’s the wine freeing me of all inhibitions but I lean closer to him. He smells so good and he’s so handsome and strong.

His gaze flickers to my lips and I see a shadow of hesitance. It’s a vulnerability I’ve never seen from him before. It’s intoxicating. I inch closer, closing the distance between us, until our noses are almost touching.

We both stop breathing for a heartbeat, caught in the moment. Then I whisper his name. “Kavian...” It’s more an exhale than actual speech, but it’s enough.

What happens next is so unexpected. He grabs me tightly and pulls me closer, crushing my lips under his. Like he can’t get enough of me.

“You are an incredible sight,” he murmurs into my ear.

His deep, commanding voice sends shivers down my spine.

My heart is pounding in eager anticipation as he moves his strong hands to my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies are pressed together in an intimate dance. His lips find mine again, deepening the kiss with a fervor that leaves me breathless.

Slowly, he starts to explore me. His hands wander up and down my body, eliciting gasps of pleasure with every touch. I reach out for him too, my hands running over the hard muscles of his back and shoulders, feeling the strength that lies beneath.

Time stands still as we lose ourselves in each other. Every lingering touch, every passionate kiss stokes the fire within us. Our bodies move in perfect harmony, a silent song playing only for us under the moonlit sky.

His hands travel higher and I flinch slightly at the cool air against my skin as he discards my clothes, slipping them off my body carefully. No wonder he gifted me dresses that were easy to slip down my shoulders. I watch as his eyes roam over me appreciatively, their warmth making me forget about the chill.

He lowers himself to kiss me again, sealing our connection with a passion that threatens to consume us both. His hands continue to explore me, each touch leaving a trail of fire on my skin.

Suddenly, Kavian pulls away and I can't help but whimper at the loss of contact. But he silences any protest with a soft hush before effortlessly lifting me into his arms.

"I've been imagining this moment from the day we met," he confesses in a heated whisper that makes my heart flutter.

He carries me to one of the stone benches by a pond in the garden, setting me down gently in his lap. He kisses my shoulder affectionately and then his lips find their way back to mine in another searing kiss that melts all resistance.

As he pulls away from me again, there is something new in his gaze. Undeniable adoration mixed with intense desire. It's like I'm seeing him again for the first time. Kavian, not just as a leader or warrior, but as a lover. And I can't help but surrender to the intoxication of this newfound revelation.

Wetness pools between my thighs as his fingers plunge inside of me. I arch and cry out at the incredible sensations.

He takes his time, exploring and teasing, each movement causing me to gasp and moan. A sense of urgency builds up within me as he stokes the flame higher and higher. I grip onto his shoulders hard enough to leave marks as waves of pleasure crash over me.

Kavian groans in response, a low primal sound that pushes my arousal even higher. He falls to his knees between my legs and replaces his fingers with his mouth, and the wet heat of his tongue sends sparks throughout my body.

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