Page 64 of King of Flames and Shadows

His hands are everywhere at once—tangling in my hair, gripping my waist, sliding beneath my skirts. I arch into his touch, wanting more, wanting everything.

As he tears my skirts from my body, I am momentarily terrified he will see the note. But it flutters innocuously through the air to the ground beside us, and he does not see it, too busy ravishing me—and soon, I’m moaning, likewise distracted.

"Mine," he growls, teeth grazing my throat.

The possessiveness in his voice should anger me, but instead it sends heat flooding through my veins. I drag him closer, nails scoring his back through his shirt.

"Show me," I breathe, and his eyes flash with something wild and hungry.

Arvoren's eyes darken with desire as he tears his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen. His skin is a map of scars, each one a story I long to trace with my fingertips, my tongue. He looms over me, powerful and predatory, and I feel small beneath him—not weak, but precious. Protected.

His hands ghost over my body. They leave trails of fire in their wake. When they reach my breasts, he cups them reverently, thumbs circling my nipples until they harden to aching points. I arch into his touch, desperate for more, but he holds me down with the weight of his body.

"Patience," he growls, voice rough with need. "I intend to savor every inch of you."

His mouth replaces his hands, hot and demanding. I gasp as he takes a nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as pleasure spirals through me.

Arvoren works his way lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my stomach. He holds my hips in his huge hands, utterly dominant, controlling me wholly, and I let it happen. Icraveit, I realize, his control, his brutality. How he holds me like he needs me to survive, and yet cannot bear to hurt me.

When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he pauses, looking up at me with eyes that burn like embers.

"Tell me you need this," he demands, his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh.

"I want you," I breathe, and it's the truest thing I've ever said. "Please, Arvoren. My King."

He groans at the sound of his title on my lips, then buries his face between my legs. The first swipe of his tongue has me crying out, hips bucking against his grip. He holds me firmly in place as he explores me with lips and tongue, alternating between teasing licks and deep, penetrating strokes. My world narrows to the exquisite sensations he's creating, pleasure building higher and higher until I'm teetering on the edge of release.

Just as I'm about to fall, Arvoren pulls away.

I whimper at the loss, but he silences me with a searing kiss. I taste myself on his lips as he positions himself between my thighs, one hand brushing idly against my core, just light enough to hold me back from climaxing but insistent enough to keep me close to it.

Moaning his name, I register the hard length of him pressing insistently against me. I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.

"Look at me," he commands, and I force my eyes open to meet his intense gaze. "I want to see your face when I claim you."

I raise a shaking hand to touch his hair, the back of his neck. He kisses me once more, as if he cannot hold himself back from it, claiming my mouth with fierce brutality, uncompromising and volatile, driven almost to madness by me.

With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside me. We both cry out at the sensation—the delicious stretch, the perfect fullness. For a moment, we're still, savoring this moment and one another. I run my hands through his hair, rake my nails down his back, legs wrapped tight around his middle as he begins to move slowly within me. It isn’t like last time; he is tantalizingly slow this time, taking his time with me, making me wait.

“Made for me,” he groans into my ear as he takes me. “You were made for me …”

I arch up from the sheets, keening, whole body shaking, mouth parted in a silent scream. Arvoren takes my waist between his huge hands, thumbs digging into my stomach, and maneuvers me, possessing me entirely, pistoning into me as if he needs it to survive. I see stars as I orgasm, thousands of them splattered over the dark ceiling above us, and through the fuzz of my vision, I see the want in his eyes, the unfettered need, his desire for me ruling him entirely.

Later—much later—we lie tangled in the sheets, my body aching sweetly, his arm heavy across my waist. The fire in the hearth has burned low, casting the room in shadows that danceacross the dark ceiling. If I strain my ears in the quiet, I can hear the lapping of the lake’s dark waters below the tower.

I trace idle patterns on Arvoren’s chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my palm. This is the moment, I think. If ever there was a time to ask …

"Arvoren?" My voice sounds small in the darkness.

"Mm?" His fingers drift lazily up and down my spine.

"Remove my chains."

His hand stills. The silence that follows feels like glass about to shatter.

"No."

The word falls between us like a stone.

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