Page 95 of Night of Death and Flowers

“No, just depleted. I can’t remove your magic, but I can weaken you until we figure out what’s going on.” He looks around, then beckons me into the trees so the temple is still in sight.

We reach a clearing. Beyond the trees, a glimpse of sea disappears into the starry horizon, the black waters reflecting the bright, full moon. Heavy drops soak through my dress until I’m shivering. “I’m not sure about this.”

My powers quake, building to a crescendo as he lifts my hands onto his chest, and I scrape my fingernails into the fabric of his navy blue tunic.

“I cannot risk you accidentally killing your sister,” he says, and my stomach dips at the thought.

Azkiel’s velvety tone caresses the edges of my magic, heavy with command. “Calista, release yourself.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Calista

My powers meld with his, combining in a rhythmic thrum, starting in my thighs, then lifting through my stomach. As a bloom of heat swells in my chest, a moan topples on my tongue when my mouth opens, the magic swallowing me until it tips me to the edge of reason.

The release is a stab of anger sizzled with satisfaction as his shadows slip around my body, unknotting the tension in my coiled muscles. My eyes roll into the back of my head as he pulls the dark powers from me, shred by shred, tearing it into pieces until there’s little left.

He grunts but remains unmoving against each blast, absorbing every ripple of power. When I look at him, darkness sinks into his chest as shockwaves of decay magic escape through my hands.

“Good girl,” he whispers as the last of my shadows curl around him in tendrils, sliding around his throat. I bite my lip, the words diffusing warmth into my chest.

Restraint bands in his eyes as he releases his hands from mine, but I close my fingers around him.

His shadows are wild as he drags his thumb across my cheek. A glittering ribbon of darkness ripples as it extends from his fingers, then slides around the contours of my body.

My heart pounds, then skips a beat, leaving me in a temporary numbness as my mind empties of thought.

I shouldn’t trust him, but the eyes are the window to the soul, and when our gazes collide, all I see is a man starved of touch, genuine affection, of kisses… and love.

My lips part as I still, my pulse thudding as a tangible force draws us together. The bond between us is explosive, and beyond any reason.

The darkness in his eyes consumes the silver until his irises are the color of night. Lengths of silver hair, tousled, are wild around his face, and I hold my breath, aching to run my fingers through them.

A tense silence hangs between us as I inch closer to him, enveloping his essence and drinking in the musky, delicious scent of him. My restraint falls away as I sink deeper into his hungry stare.

I lift my eyes to his cruel, handsome face. “I’m tired of trying to hate you.”

My breath halts as his fingers grip the back of my neck, forcing me closer. “I’m sick of you consuming my thoughts,” he retorts, restraint thick in his tone, as if he may snap at any moment.

Heat flares in my veins as his words sink in, fluttering my stomach into butterflies.

I consume his thoughts?

His lips drift to mine, and I tiptoe, grasping him tighter, my shadows exploding as a feeling ignites through me—a desire that burns out of control.

Our lips crash together, his fingers sinking into my skin with starving desperation. My hands explore the expanse of his chest, then travel to his biceps as he deepens the kiss and takes command of my sanity.

Azkiel wages war against my mouth, demanding my tongue battle with his. My core clenches painfully, desperate and aching.

He moans as his hips gyrate against me, and I swallow his soft, guttural sounds. His wet tongue strokes against mine, and I immediately lose myself in thoughts of him devouring other places on my body.

His hands carve the curve of my chin, his fingers pressing against my tender throat with possessive need. I cling to him, every stroke of my tongue demanding, as if I am the one who has been starved of touch until now.

Shadows quake around him, vibrating against my limbs as a slow, pent-up ache builds between my legs. He breaks the kiss, and my eyes flutter open as we’re consumed by a tornado of shadows encompassing us in glittering blackness.

“Calista.” He says my name like a prayer against my skin. He traces his fingers in a fiery path from my throat, down my back, then over the fabric of my dress.

My back arches to his touch, his lips frantic against me once again as he devours me with such intensity, it feels as if I may die.

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