Page 48 of Dreams of Ash and Smoke

Exhaustion weighs heavily upon me, seeping into my very bones. The magical duel with Dryston has drained me more than I realized. My limbs feel leaden, my steps sluggish. He seems to sense my fatigue, for as soon as we return and he dismounts our horse, he scoops me up into his arms without hesitation. This tender gesture is so uncharacteristic of him, of us, that it leaves me breathless with its novelty.

This new dynamic between us sends shivers of anticipation through my body. Despite my bone-deep weariness, I find myself acutely aware of every point of contact between us. The warmth of his body seeps into mine, astark contrast to the cool night air. His breathing is measured, as if he’s consciously trying to remain calm, but I can feel the rapid tattoo of his heart echoing my own.

He cradles me securely, one arm supporting my knees while the other curves around my back. I nestle against his broad chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby. My hand, seemingly of its own volition, begins to trace delicate patterns over his heart. I feel the muscles in his chest tense beneath my fingertips, and unbidden, my mind wanders to how those same muscles might feel moving above me. The thought sends a rush of heat to my cheeks and a flutter of anticipation to my stomach.

Why am I acting like this? I was attacked in the woods not too long ago and yet all I can think of right now is him. His body. His breathing. It sparks something in me.

I trail my fingers up, brushing his neck and watching his artery throb as blood races through him. Why do I have the sudden urge to lick him?

I hold that one back, fighting myself.

We arrive in front of his room and he opens the door before closing it with his foot and setting me on the bed. He stares at me for what feels like forever before turning away and heading for the door.

“Wait!” The word rushes out without thought and immediately I get off the bed and walk over to his still body, his back facing me.

I watch as he clenches his hands. “Please,” I have no idea what I am asking of him but he turns toward me, his eyes raking over my body as if memorizing every inch. My mark tingles with a need for him.

This is crazy, wild, and completely what I was originally trying to avoid.

I can almost feel his thoughts swimming through my own mind as he reaches out and places his hands firmly on my thighs, lifting me up and pressing me against the wall beside the door.

A sharp intake of breath escapes me before his mouth is on mine, consuming me in a fiery kiss that leaves me dizzy and wanting more. I can’t help but moan as he explores every inch of my mouth with his tongue, a dance of passion and desire.

“I thought you were angry with me,” I breathlessly gasp between kissesas he trails his lips along my neck. He lets out a dark chuckle that sends shivers down my spine.

“Oh, I am,” he growls, gripping me tighter against the wall. “I am so angry at you.” Each word is punctuated with a fierce kiss, leaving my skin tingling and my mind spinning. “For being reckless…” He kisses down my jawline, trailing hot kisses down my neck. “For not listening…” His lips brush against the sensitive spot below my ear before nipping at it. “For putting yourself in danger.” A low groan escapes him as he nips harder, eliciting a whimper from deep within me.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” I’m breathless.

He grinds his center against mine, a moan this time slipping out, “I don’t think you have.” He moves us, my legs wrapping tightly around him, fearful he’ll let go.

He carries me to the desk in the luxurious suite, my body feeling weightless in his strong arms. He sets me down and without hesitation, his skillful hands tear away the fabric of my dress, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

My breath catches in surprise as his lips find mine once again, igniting a wildfire inside me. His tongue dances expertly with mine, sending shivers down my spine. I’ve never felt anything like this before.

In the past, my only lover had been Dryston, and not always by choice. But this… this is something else entirely.

His rough, tanned hands glide along my thighs, causing my body to arch toward him. My ankle digs into his backside, urging him closer. Through his trousers, I can feel his growing bulge and my hand instinctively runs over it with desperate longing.

A small voice in the back of my mind tries to warn me to stop, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming desire pulsating through every inch of my being. “We shouldn’t do this.” I say flimsily, attempting to keep my head.

“Probably.” He answers without any conviction.

When his fingers finally reach my wet center, I let out a loud moan of pleasure. “Oh gods,” I manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, completely consumed by the intensity of our passion.

“Just me.” This time humor laces his deep voice and his shadows slip around us once more, grazing my skin in a cooling touch. It’s like a refreshing wind on a hot summer day. They trail up my thighs and over my center. I can’t seem to breathe.

A low, guttural groan escapes his lips as he runs his hand over my body, tracing the wetness that slips down my thigh. “You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. I can feel my body responding to his touch, grinding against his hand in desperate need of friction. He suddenly removes his hand and I whimper at the loss of contact.

But then, he surprises me by bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking on them, his eyes never leaving mine. I am consumed by the fiery hunger in his gaze as he presses his other hand gently against my chin.

“Look at me,” he whispers, and I find myself nodding obediently. I am completely bare before him, and he gazes longingly at every inch of my body — my face, my neck, my breasts— but stops before going any further due to our bodies pressing tightly together.

“I want to see you,” I manage to say through ragged breaths, tugging at his clothes. With a knowing smile, he strips off his garments and I follow behind him, tracing the intricate tattoos bedeck his muscular arms and chest. There is an abundance of art painted onto his skin, but it is the small distinct one on his hip that catches my attention. My blood runs hot as I slip off the desk to get closer to him, running my fingertips over the delicate bird etched into his skin. It’s in the exact same spot as my birthmark, with the same shape and size.

But that can’t be possible. Because that would mean…

“Your bird. Is this a tattoo?” I ask, my voice a whisper. He looks down at it before looking at my face again, a hint of concern ghosting his face.

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