Page 207 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

We have yet to speak about how I have found my way into his bed chambers tonight. Will we exchange mana tonight? For how much longer does the first time last? I find myself eager for the taste of him, and after a long day of working my magic, my body aches.

There is a fire crackling in the hearth, and the room is bathed in warmth. Aamon is sitting gracefully at the round table with a book in his hands.

“You’ve been working very diligently,” he says in a low rumble.

I glance up at him from the matching position as I thumb through the tome that dictates our pact. His presence fills the room, and it always has, though tonight he seems relaxed. His wings are folded loosely, and the usual hard edges of his face are softened.

“I wish to learn as much as I can.” I close the book, setting it aside to pay him full attention.

Aamon’s lips quirk upwards into a half-smile. For a moment, I forget he is inhuman with bird-like qualities and instead seehim as the attractive creature that he is. “You are doing better than I anticipated. You were pretty dreadful.”

I snort, a smile tipping up my lips as I cock my head to the side. “I had a rather strict teacher.”

There is a long pause, and the air between us thickens with unspoken words. I feel the tension building, the weight of everything we wish to say pressing in on me. It’s as if the entire world has fallen away, leaving us both bathed in golden light in this dimly lit room.

Aamon’s eyes lock onto mine, and I feel the shift in him. I dare not move or speak, as I fear that, if I do, the moment will pass us by. Slowly, he stands from his chair, crossing the room until he’s just in front of me. He reaches out, his hand hovering along my cheek in a whispering touch. His fingers are so long and elegant, though at one point I did feel as though they were only meant to be deadly.

His touch gently ghosts over my skin as he hesitates, like he expects me to recoil. Instead, I press my cheek against his hand with a smile. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. The warmth of his skin sends a spark of electricity through my body. I swallow roughly, and my heart pounds in my chest.

I gaze upward into his eyes; there is a question lingering there. One he chooses not to voice, but I know what he’s asking. I feel it in the way his fingers trace my lips, down my chin and to my neck.

“Aamon…” I whisper, barely audible.

As he steps closer, he leans his face inches from mine. Heat radiates off him, with the intoxicating smell of fire and earth onhis skin. His golden eyes search mine. I hope that he will kiss me, but he stops.

“This between us,” he murmurs, his voice laced with vulnerability, “it’s so dangerous, Thorne.”

I want to tell him I couldn’t care less about the danger. I want to beg him to kiss me, to touch me, but instead I blink as the weight of disappointment settles over me. “Why?”

“I can’t afford to feel this way,” he says a softer string of words I barely make out, but when I do, my heart drops, “with you.”

The conflict in his eyes doesn’t stop the sting I feel, but there is a battle he seems to be fighting with himself. At the moment, I have no care for that danger. I care about the way his hand feels against my skin, the way he looks at me as if the world belongs just to us. There is a softness in his eyes, and my heart beats loudly when I’m with him. What may be happening between us feels real, and I know I want him.

“Maybe, but could it not be worth the risk?” my voice trembles as his touch leaves my skin.

The loss of his touch feels like a physical ache, but I can see in his eyes that he wants me just as much as I do him. There is a fire burning there behind the golden embers, and all at once, I rise to my feet. Within two steps, I’m grabbing him, pulling him toward me.

“Then let’s have tonight? Let’s see where things lead.”

Aamon doesn’t respond, though his hands grip me with fervor. There is an unspoken word hanging between us once again in a growing affection that neither of us can deny.

“On the bed,” he commands. “Now.”

Aamon

Thorne does exactlyas I ask, with a miraculous caveat of slowly stripping his clothing off as he walks across the rug. The moment his tunic slides over his head, baring his chest, my mouth runs dry. I haven’t seen him fully nude, at least not of his own accord. There are soft planes of muscle, likely created by working a garden, as well as doing the majority of the hunting. Slowly, he unties his trousers, stepping out of them, baring his round ass to me.

Peeking over his shoulder, Thorne raises his eyebrows, daring me to come to him. No. I wish to savor the sight for a moment longer.

“On the bed,” I command again, taking a more domineering tone. As if slipping on a mask, I become the Aamon I first presented to him. It feels as natural as a second skin.

Thorne does as I ask, kneeling on the bed with his legs beneath him, facing me with the demurest grin upon his face.

“Good boy.” Once the words fall from my lips, his cheeks tint with blush. His eyes flicker down to the floor briefly as if it embarrasses him, though I know it's far from the truth. Thorne adores being praised; it is an act, just as mine is.

Leaving him upon the bed, I cross toward the large chest in the corner—the one with my toys inside. The lock clatters, and the hinges creak as I open it up. Laid out before me is an array of vibrators, dildos, bondage gear and flavored lube.

My fingers glide over a few items as I wonder just what noises I may bring from his gorgeous pouty lips. I settle on a vibrator that is bubblegum pink for his ass and a cock ring for me, along with silk ties. After our last foray together, I quickly realized Thorne enjoys submitting to my will.

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