Page 34 of The Mirror in the Mountain

I needed more. Needed him to erase the feeling of another’s hands on me. To remember what it felt like to be safe and wanted. To hear him breathe my name against my skin as we lost ourselves in each other.

“Eva,” he groaned, pulling away as his eyes flicked over me. I could feel his hesitancy, his need to make sure I was okay, warring with his desire to follow through with what we both wanted.

“Please,” I whispered, knowing he wouldn’t deny me this—wouldn’t deny me anything. “I don’t want you to be careful with me.”

There was always something so intoxicating about the way Bash looked at me, like he would never be able to get enough of me. Like I was everything he ever wanted, and he was realizing all over again that I was his.

“You say the word, and we stop,” Bash murmured. “No questions asked.”

“Stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I’m not. I want this. I wantyou.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Bash breathed, his eyes raking over the still healing marks that would no doubt leave fresh scars. But his gaze darkened as it lowered, the mix of lust and protective fury surging across our bond leaving me breathless.

“You’ve always been worthy of me,” I said softly. “And I’ve always been yours.”

Bash’s eyes flashed, the last of his restraint escaping him in a breath. Then he kissed me, soft and slow, gathering me against him. And it felt like coming home.

I pressed my body into his, desperate to erase any space left between us until there were no boundaries between where he ended and I began. His tongue nudged inside my mouth, possessive and thorough. My back arched as his teeth found my earlobe, his hand tightening in my hair.

“Always,” he whispered into my ear. “And forever. Promise me.”

“Yes,” I moaned, not caring about anything else but him as I curled my fingers into his back to pull him closer.

Bash captured my chin in his hand, his thumb tracing my lower lip—and when my tongue flitted out to lick it, his mouth replaced it with a growl. His kiss was starved, yet achingly tender, like despite my insistence, he was still holding himself back. I moaned into his mouth, and he tilted my head to the side, taking me deeper, kissing me as if he could fit everything he felt for me into it all at once.

There was too much clothing between us. I pulled away despite every cell in my body screaming to do the opposite, moving to stand between his legs as I tugged my dress over my head. Then watched Bash take in every last one of my remaining marks, every fading cut and bruise left over after Quinn’s ministrations—the fact they still remained evidence enough of what I had endured. His eyes flashed murderously, a vortex of whirling gray that matched the shadows that reached out to me, carefully curling around my arms, my legs, my torso. They trailed lightly along each abrasion, as if creating their own list of all the ways that Aviel had harmed me so they might enact a precise form of vengeance when the time came.

“I’m okay,” I said again. “And I need?—”

I gasped, arching into that shadowy touch as they moved lower.

“I know exactly what you need, hellion.”

Bash pulled me closer, his mouth tracing the same path as his shadows across my stomach, mapping out every bruise on my skin as I writhed under his touch. His tongue grazed my breast, and I sucked in a loud breath before letting it out in a moan as his hand slipped between my legs, lightly teasing me in a way that was almost unbearable. Those soft, deliberate brushes against that sensitive nub of nerves had my core clenching with need, an impatient whine leaving my throat as Bash took his time playing with me.

His eyes flicked up to mine as I reached for the ties on his pants, but he didn’t object when I eased them down—as starved for him as I could plainly see he was for me. I trailed my hand over the impressive bulge straining to get free—and smirked at his ensuing groan.

“You’re still wearing far too many clothes,” I chided him.

I barely pulled up his shirt before he tore it off in one quick motion. When I yanked down his undershorts and curled my hand around his cock, he made a desperate noise in the back of his throat, his length twitching in my hand. Straddling him, I slowly pumped my fist up and down between us, twisting my wrist so my palm brushed against his sensitive head.

“Tease,” he murmured.

“You started it,” I said breathlessly.

He gently moved me onto my back, leaning over me before quickly moving to my side. My chest ached at the reason why.

“I’m okay,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He flashed me that crooked smile, then he kissed leisurely down my chest, humming appreciatively under his breath. I shivered at the ghost of his lips on my skin.

I needed more.

As if reading my mind, his shadows slid teasingly against my clit before wrapping around my thighs, spreading them wider—my low moan of need earning me another sinful half-grin.

“It’s been far too long since I’ve tasted you, hellion,” he whispered against my navel.

A spark of heat shot down our bond, an ache settling into my core as our desires merged into one.

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