Page 86 of Of Blood & Stone

Fingers digging into the sheets, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning; she took him so damn well.

And yet he didn’t deserve this. Pain had been his companion since his parents died, marked into his skin, a sign of how unwanted he was in this world. As if she heard his thoughts, she stopped, eyes peering up through her long lashes, those deep blue eyes bringing him back to this moment—to her.

“I want you, Elnok.”

Everything within him died at those words. He wanted her too,neededher. But he hadn’t been able to afford a contraceptive medicine in years.

“If you’re concerned at all, a girl’s womb is turned barren the first time she uses Aretta’s power.”

His stomach sank. “You give so much for this life.”

“And I don’t regret it,” she said, slowly crawling on top of him. Her calloused hand caught on his skin as she glided it over his chest, bringing it up to cradle his jaw.

“Will you regret this?”

Her eyes searched him, and he felt as if he’d asked the sea if it could survive without the waves, if its depths could still be a mystery if it was shallow.

“Will you?” she whispered.

He gripped his hardened cock, watching as she lowered herself onto him, slowly, carefully.

“I could never regret you.”

She sank herself onto him, whimpering into his mouth as he claimed her lips, teeth, and tongue. He pierced into her, and she ground against him; he lost all sense of where his body started and hers ended. Pain and power and sorrow intermingled with pleasure and light and desire. They shared all of it between their skin—sweat and blood, tears and prayers.

She broke their kiss, hiding in the nape of his neck as he held her steady, any gentleness leaving them as he pulled her hair and she scratched his back, their breaths and moans echoing as their voices met together in a shared cry for mercy and pleasure.

It was as if this one moment, here with her, was all life had been created for. As they rode waves upon waves of desperate need, he couldn’t remember why he would’ve wanted to be anywhere else.

And then everything stilled.

Pleasure rolled off of his body, onto hers, and then pooled around them in a still, quiet sort of peace. He folded into her, and she buried her face into his skin, whispering words he didn’t understand as if they were ancient prayers breathed into his body—as if he was the one being worshiped when she was the one who deserved it all.

Sylzenya kissed his forehead, retreating to their bathing room and returning with cloths. He praised her body as he wiped his remnants off her, and she spoke terribly dirty things as she cleaned him. He laughed, embracing her as he fell onto the bed, tangling his legs with hers.

“Who did this to you?” Sylzenya asked, a single nail wandering along the scars on his back.

Normally he would’ve closed off the conversation, retreated into himself, or made some crass joke about being whipped by a past lover. But as he looked into her eyes, those deep blue irises that reminded him so much of the sea, he kissed her hand.

“My brother,” he replied, intertwining his fingers with hers, “After my parents were assassinated, he went mad, drinking all the wine he could get his hands on. He was convinced that I would do anything I could to take the Crown from him, even plan to murder him. I wanted no such thing.”

Her brow furrowed, her thumb brushing his. “The wine reminds you of him.”

“It’s an unfortunate association,” he scoffed. “He kept me in the dungeons for six months, declaring me on trial for believing I’d murdered our parents. He got an iron rod shaped in our Vutrorian family symbol and used it to torture me for a confession, saying this was the closest form of a crown I’d ever receive. I finally escaped to a village on the coast where I met Orym and became quite a nuisance as a village thief. I’m sure you’ve gathered by now my princely duties have been left far behind me.”

Eyes glistening, Sylzenya squeezed his hand. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

She whispered his name, wiping a tear he hadn’t realized ran down his cheek.

“I suppose we both bear pain on our backs from those we love, don’t we?” she asked.

His heart stalled in his chest. Stroking her neck, he pulled her in, kissing her warm full lips. Sliding closer, she ran a gentle hand along his back, his cock hardening again as he looped her leg over his hip, heat growing between them as he lost himself in her scent. She knew what he felt, understood the complexity of his life with barely a word.

A loud knock sounded on the door.

Shock ruptured through his spine as they pushed off each other. Sylzenya scrambled off the bed, finding her robe and holding it in her hand.

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