Page 212 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Another teasing stroke, and he took control. Garrik squeezed her hips and slammed into her, the position much deeper, hitting that spot that had her reeling. Striking lightning through her blood, Alora couldn’t hold the armrest any longer. Reachingfor anything—his shoulder, the back of the chair, the table beside them—Alora slammed her hand down as she cried out, her climax crashing over her.

Garrik followed close behind. Eyes wild, thrusting deep every last drop of his release as an explosion of golden dust clouded around them and a metal clang skittered across the floor.

In the darkness and moonlight, a shower of flaxen flecks rained down.

The paint dust, she realized.

The dragon scales from the masquerade he’d brushed on himself to match his jacket. Her hand had collided with the bowl, covering them in a dusting of it.

Garrik’s hips slowed when she burst out laughing. He hauled that laugh to his smile, and she opened for him. Taking every sweep of his tongue and feeling his smile brighter than sunlight, with a hungry sound of need.

Alora giggled against his lips and pulled back to survey him. The gold peppered his hair and outlined his scars, and she knew she looked no different as he licked over the dusting on her nipple. Then the other. “You promised to wear gold for me one day, mighty prince,” she reminded him.

Garrik let out a laugh that pulsed his abs, shimmering the flecks of dust, so lovely it thrummed through her entire being. “And what do you think, wife? Is it as ridiculous as I imagined?” And laughed again.

By the stars, she loved it—him.

Alora brandished a feline smirk and traced her finger down rigid flesh, drawing a line in the glistening dust until she met where they were joined. “So very ridiculous,” she teased and traced to his star-shaped scar, the coloring a little darker in this moonlight, and outlined it in gold when an idea surfaced.

Starflames ignited on her back, gilding the room in an aura of flickering white. Reflecting off the golden specks dancing in theair before Smokeshadows erupted from him, veiling them in a night sky of their power.

Fuck, clever girl.Garrik shook his head, awestruck. Speechless.

You already did that—many times and withgreatimagination.She smirked, and he huffed a laugh.

She knew the feeling—awestruck, speechless. Eying his incredible body, his enchanting silver gaze, which she once had no desire to see again. The male she had hated and run from. The male she had craved to starve the last breath of.

Alora commanded those starflames to grow brighter. Kissing the unbreachable wall of shadows as if they were always destined to become one. And every bit of pain lingering in that room disappeared until it was only him and her. Their powers and the beauty they created whispered to the world that a dangerous storm had birthed. One that no one could ever bend or break.

A knock at the door had Garrik jolting upright.

Shards of sunlight cast dusty beams from the windows onto the mezzanine, fogging into his bedchamber as Alora slept soundly nudged against him.

Have you returned?

Thalon.

Garrik greedily stole one slow scan of Alora; the blankets pooled at the small of her back revealed the beautiful curve of her spine, and the … bite marks fading up her shoulder and neck.With a purely male smile, he leaned down and kissed up her back, pulling a whimper from her throat when he reached her neck.

Alora snuggled into the pillow, still asleep, before he slipped from the bed and dressed in night pants. Swallowed in shadows, Garrik dawned below when another knock rasped on the door before he opened it.

Thalon’s waiting grin was roguish.

“Shut up,” Garrik growled low.

His brother wiped a tattooed hand down his swelled cheeks, shoulders bouncing as he loosely contained his enjoyment. “I saidnothing.” And then dared, actuallydaredto speak again. “You’re practically glowing. Alora wear you out over … what was it? One day?Grandsire.”

Two weeks,Garrik thought to himself. Two glorious weeks.

Garrik punched his shoulder like they were faelings. Thalon rubbed the spot, still chuckling, as Garrik ushered him into the hallway and closed the door behind.

“Ladomyr sent his general across the bridge. Kyrell requests you join Ladomyr for breakfast.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest. “I have a meeting.” Thalon raised a brow and crossed his arms, so Garrik continued, “Blood was encased in Erissa’s necklace at the masquerade. Efforts were successful last night to obtain it.”

Thalon leaned against the wall, smiling as he surveyed Garrik rubbing a sore spot on his neck blooming in navy and violet.

He opened his mouth, but it was Garrik’s voice that bounced off the walls. “Say another word,” he dared. Only if he were honest, he did not mind his brother’s taunts. “Pay attention.”

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