Page 383 of Heat of the Everflame

I no longer dreaded what I might have to sacrifice. Luther would never demand anything of me I wasn’t willing to give. If the gods did, then so be it. I’d sacrifice it all to keep him at my side.

I no longer feared giving my heart away, either. Gods, Icravedit. I wanted to carve out half my heart and nest it inside his ribs, let it beat in rhythm with his own, keep it company, hold it in sorrow, dance with it in delight.

I wanted to wear his mark upon my skin and his ring upon my hand. And I wanted him to wear my Crown upon his head.

How had I ever doubted it? How had the choice ever been anything but clear?

One second, I was staring at him, blinking like a fool and trying to remember how to exist.

The next, I was in his arms. Mouths crashing, hands groping, legs around his waist, fingers knotted in his hair. His body going hard, mine already wet.

For months, this tension had been brewing, the pressure thick in the air like a summer storm. We’d been playing a dangerous game trying to outrun it, and now the tempest was upon us—every growl a clap of thunder, every touch a lightning strike.

I kissed him with a passion that looked more like fury. He grunted as my nails scored lines down his back, and his fingers responded in kind, roaming my flesh with his near-bruising grip. My temper rose in frustration as no touch or taste could sate my relentless need.

Clothes went flying, both of us impatient to get to skin. Luther laid me out on top of a low bookshelf, and my hipsbucked as he tore the pants from my legs with so much force the fabric ripped.

“I need you,” I begged.

“The books—”

“Fuckthe books.”

He flashed me a knowing, sinful smirk. “You don’t like them?”

“I love them. I adorethem. I want to read every one of them. I—ah...gods,Luther...”

My thoughts fractured as he rolled the sensitive peak of my breast between his teeth.

“Say my name again,” he demanded.

“Luth—fuck,” I gasped as he nipped harder. I raked my fingers through his hair and arched against his greedy mouth.

There was nothing gentle or delicate in the way we touched. We were frenzied, unmoored. We were rabid carnivores on a fresh kill.

I wanted him insideme. Not just between my legs—I wanted his blood coursing through my veins, his bones fused to mine to make me strong. I wanted to tear myself open and keep a piece of him hidden away inside me from this vicious world that kept trying to tear us apart. My need for him burned in my lungs, hammered in my heart, slicked between my clenching thighs.

“Pants,” I huffed. “Whyare you still wearing pants?”

“As you command, Your Majesty,” he laughed against my skin.

I froze.

He instantly stopped, sensing the shift. His mouth left my body as his gaze snapped up. “What’s wrong?”

I fought to force a shred of clarity into my sex-addled head and pushed myself upright. He started to pull away, and I grabbed his belt and tugged him back, spreading my legs so hecould nestle between them. He watched me with a confused mix of foggy eyes and furrowed brows.

“When we’re out there,” I began, speaking haltingly as I panted through my lust, “we have these roles we have to play, with all their obligations and limits. And too many fucking expectations. So we wear our masks, and we play our parts: the Queen and her loyal Prince.”

He frowned, not understanding. “I am your loyal Prince. And you are my Queen.”

I smiled. “I know.” I scraped my nails through the coarse hair dusting his jaw. A throaty rumble rolled out as he pressed closer. “But when we’re alone, I want to be Diem and Luther. Equals in all things. I want you to disagree with me, yell at me, disobey me, fight me. Even, sometimes...” His eyes followed my tongue as I wet my lips. “...dominate me. Make me serveyou.”

His hands gripped harder on my thighs.

“Your fealty means the world to me, Luther. But it is not the reason I love you any more than my Crown is the reason you love me. I want more than just the Prince. And I wantusto be more than our titles. Even if only when we’re alone.”

The turbulent desire in his expression tempered into a firmer, more lucid love. “Very well. When we are alone, you are not my Queen. You are my heart. And I am yours.”

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