Page 42 of Flame and Starlight

“No, Alys. I never should have said that to you. His eyes hold darkness and evil. But yours,” he said with a sigh, “are shining citrine. They hold happiness and life, and I get lost in them every time I look at you.”

The breath was knocked out of me at his words. My heart swelled, and I couldn’t stop the hope from blooming in my chest. My fingers curled into the bar behind me painfully.

“Then why say it?”

His hands tangled themselves in my hair. “I wanted to be the villain in your story. Part of me still wants to be the villain.” He took a breath. “I thought it would keep you safe, Alys, because everything I love gets taken away from me. And if he finds out you’re mine, he will increase his efforts tenfold, and I cannot stand the thought of losing you. I don’t want this life for you.” He lowered his head and pressed his forehead against mine. I reached up and held his hands in mine while they rested around my neck.

“You’re not a villain,” I whispered. “You’re not my villain. You saved me, Asher. You gave me a world I never even dreamed of. I want this life for me.”

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, searching mine. “Alys, you were mine the moment I saw you lying broken on that bathroom floor,” he said in a low voice, and it sank right to my core. Our emotions mixed together, fogging my brain with heady desire. “I am the Night, and I would swallow this world whole before I let anyone take you from me.”

His lips gently brushed against mine as he held my gaze. I sighed into him and let my eyes flutter closed. I opened my mouth to him. Our tongues brushed against each other, and he swallowed the moan that escaped my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and honey, and I couldn’t get enough. I kissed him like I was starved for him. He tugged lightly at my bottom lip and broke the kiss, panting. I stumbled forward at the sudden absence of him.

“Don’t look at me like that, Alyssandra.” He leaned away from my face and started gathering the fabric of my dress in his hands, bunching it up at my thighs.

“Like what?” I held on to the bar behind me to keep my knees from giving out.

“Like you’re worried I’m going to stop.” He slowly lifted the fabric up. “Arms up, little duck.” He pulled the dress up and over my head, leaving me in the black slip I wore underneath, which barely came below my butt, and my heels. “I am putty in your hands, princess. I will never be able to stop unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” I said when I found my words. I reached up with trembling hands and slid the jacket off his body, letting my hands run across every muscle in his arms. He threw it on the chair behind him as I started to work on the buttons down his shirt. It took me much longer with my nerves and the alcohol blurring my vision, but he was patient and just watched me, playing with my hair the entire time.

When I was finally able to push that off him, I let my hands wander over the hard planes of his chest and down further over his stomach, taking my time to follow the design of his tattoos. In the firelight, the blues and silvers in his skin glowed warm, and I watched as it moved under my touch.

I kicked my heels off, and he gripped me under my butt and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. My mouth found his with ease, and I was lost. Kissing him was like finding the other piece of myself that I didn’t know was missing. He pushed through the bedroom door and put me down. I reached up to take the tiara off, but he grabbed my wrist.

“Leave it on,” his voice rumbled, and he backed me up against the wall. He knelt in front of me and ran his hands so slowly up my legs it felt like the sweetest torture. “I love these,” he said as he squeezed my thighs. His fingertips found the lacy edges of my thong and began to pull it off. I gasped at the nerves churning in my stomach. He had lived for hundreds of years, and here he was on his knees in front of me.

“Hey,” he said, pausing. “Is this okay?”

I smiled and ran my hands through his hair. “Yes,” I said through a small laugh. He pulled it down and helped me step out of it before he shoved the flimsy fabric in his back pocket.

“These are mine now,” he said with a wicked grin before he leaned forward and threw one of my legs over his shoulder, placing kisses across my inner thigh, nibbling on the skin around the sheath holding the dagger. “You’re so beautiful.”

My brain was on overdrive. The man that had been so cold and distant was nowhere to be seen when I looked down at him now. His normally icy eyes were filled with warmth and want. He smiled up at me, showing off his beautifully white teeth as he scratched his fangs down the sensitive part of my thigh. My breath hitched, and I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes and pressing my hands flat against the wall. I had never felt anything like this. His mouth left me feeling scorched and needing. His shadows, in stark comparison, were cold and floated over my skin, clinging on like they couldn’t get enough.

“Look at me, Alys,” he said, his voice deep and rough. I reluctantly opened my eyes and found his, not used to the intimacy he was asking for. “I want to see the pleasure on your face when I taste you for the first time.” My lips parted, and my breath was coming fast and uneven.

He held my gaze as his mouth closed around me, sucking the little bundle of nerves into his mouth. My hands flew back to his hair, tangling in the soft stands there and tugging him closer to me. My world tilted, and the sweetest pleasure coursed through every inch of my body, making my limbs weak. His name escaped my lips in the faintest whisper, but it was all the encouragement he needed.

He growled into me, and it vibrated through my body as he grabbed my other leg and threw it over his shoulder. He pushed me further into the wall and held me there on his shoulders, completely at his mercy. He devoured me like he was starved for the taste of me. The sight of his face between my thighs was almost enough to send me over the edge. And when his hand snaked underneath me and he pushed a finger into my wetness, curling it deliciously, I broke around him, splintering into a thousand pieces as I moaned his name.

His movements were languid as I came down from the high. He let my legs slip gently from his shoulders, and I pressed my hands into his shoulders to keep myself upright. His hands found my thighs and gripped them again as he licked me off his lips.

“You taste like the sweetest starlight,” he said breathlessly and began to lift my slip from my body while he stood up. He towered over me again, and I was naked in front of him other than my bra, and I silently thanked the Gods I had decided to wear a pretty one. There was an emptiness low in my core that begged for him, and I reached for his pants, trying to untie them and get them out of my way. I pushed them down and stared at him in all of his glory as he stepped out of them. His boxer briefs were black and hugged tightly against his very impressive hardness.

My hand found it, and he leaned over me, both of his hands braced against the wall. His eyes closed, and his mouth was in a tight line, nostrils flaring slightly as he tried to breathe evenly. It sent a shock through me to see what I could do to him, how I could make him feel.

He grabbed my mouth with his, and it was a clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. I could taste myself on him. His hand found my throat, and he pinned me against the wall with it, squeezing just enough to make me feel it. He took my hand off him and pushed his entire body flush with mine.

“Tonight is about you, princess. Just let me feel you.” He sucked my lip into his mouth and bit until I tasted blood. I groaned into his moving hips and struggled to try and push his last bit of clothing from his hips. He reached behind me, and with a flick of his fingers, my bra fell from my chest. His knuckles grazed the hard peaks there, eliciting another whimper from my mouth.

“Fuck, Alys,” he moaned into my mouth. “I love the way your body responds to me.” He finally relented and pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them. I stared shamelessly at him, following his tattoos down over his hips where they stopped at the top of his thighs. Asher let me take every inch of him in, and I licked my lips in anticipation. His patience ran out as he bent down and scooped me up.

Once we got close to the bed, he threw me down onto it, and I bounced once before he was on top of me, his wings out now in all their dark glory, kissing every square inch of skin his lips could find. His kisses were frantic. He left a trail of heat from my swollen lips to my nipple where he sucked it into his mouth and teased it with his teeth before doing the exact same to the other. I pushed my hips up and into him, begging to feel him inside of me.

“Asher,” I pleaded, gripping and pulling his hair tightly in between my fingers. He looked up at me, his lips wet and a grin spread across them. He grabbed himself and teased me, sliding up and down before slowly pushing in. I moaned and arched my back, digging my nails into his shoulders. My head pushed into the bed behind me, and he suddenly stopped and grabbed my jaw in a bruising grip.

“Eyes on me, little duck,” he said and squeezed until I looked up at him. “Good girl.” In one sinful push, he was inside of me, stretching me and filling me up.

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