Page 92 of Untethering Dark

On the wake of a moan, she pleaded, “Don’t make me come. We need to...and I need to be on your...” A well-timed buzz cut off her already halting words.

“You want it, little witch?” He growled, withdrawing from her to stroke slick up and down his length. “My body is yours. Take what you need of it.”

Pale eyes reflecting moonlight like the nocturnal creatures that thrived in the dark, Astrid crawled on all fours into his lap, transfixing him with an unrelenting stare that made him feel more prey than predator. Anticipation rushed through his limbs, all at once heavy and tingly. It could’ve been the spell work’s doing, but the hammering of his heart, the hitch of his breath, the need to be vanquished by her, was something else entirely.

Perching herself on his thighs, Astrid cupped a hand under his jaw. Around them the ritual circle glowed, followed bythe runes painted on their bodies, and the wind kicked up, a swirling cyclone freeing strands of Astrid’s snowy hair from her braid, whipping it between them. “Are you sure? It’s not too late to say no.”

He enveloped her in his arms, molding, memorizing, imprinting the feel of her forever upon his body. “There’s nothing I want more than to share this with you.”

The luminous smile she gave could have rivaled the moon overhead.

She unraveled the blue ribbon from her braid, the one she always wore, and wound it around one of his antlers, her cool, nimble fingers caressing as she went. Marking him. Tying them together with something of hers.

Then, tilting his head just so, she kissed the seam of his mouth, that smile still on her lips. She reached between them, aligning, then sinking onto him with a ragged sigh. Blissful connection seared his senses, wrenching a pleased gasp from his throat. He’d never felt so complete, so whole.

All his life he’d had his fill of flesh, but he’d been starved of this.

Neither of them knew quite what to expect—the disconnect between reading about a sensation in a spell book and then actually feeling it—so he’d thought the magic would be more intrusive. Draining what was needed, rapidly emptying the well. And he did feel a pull in his groin and his chest, but it heightened the sex. The visceral way they collided over and over, burning bright and hot, edged toward the brink of destruction, like one of those dying stars exploding into the cosmos. He knew the crash was coming, the moment he burned out and went cold as sky rock, but he met her rhythm with racing thrusts.

She was radiant above him, awash in the moon’s silvery light. Head tipped back, lower lip tucked between teeth, eyes closed.Sweat beaded then froze upon her skin, limning it in a starry sheen.

“So beautiful.” His tongue split down the middle, the tips opening up, latching onto her nipples and sucking. His hands worked in tandem, cupping and squeezing globes of flesh. Delivering vibration between her thighs. With a throaty gasp, she clenched all around him, and the runes shone brighter.

The dizzying, haphazard way she swayed and churned, he knew that she was close.

“It’s yours, witch,” he breathed, punctuating the sentence with a vicious thrust. “Take it.”

As her face crumpled in sweet bliss, the runes exploded in a burst of light, and the pull between them increased tenfold, wrenching him in an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain. He’d never come so hard, emptying everything in one go, not even after feasting upon Astrid’s arousal-laced Plätzchen.

Utterly boneless, Gudariks gazed up at Astrid, so glorious, so regal upon him, his lap her throne. A satisfied smile softened her features, the wind fluttering silvery white hair against her cheeks. He reached to tuck it behind her ears, drowsy and perfectly content. He gave his witch what she needed, and he’d gladly do it all again.

Something bloomed inside him, stretching its roots around his rib cage, his heart, squeezing tight. But it wasn’t an ache that hurt, nor a lingering effect from the spell. The truth struck him hard, leaving him breathless and maybe just a little misty-eyed. “Astrid.”

Something so warm and tender shone in her eyes. The runes had dimmed, but her skin glowed faintly from within in an ethereal, otherworldly light. A goddess, as far as he was concerned, and he’d devour anyone who’d try to contest it.

He let the truth tumble out. “I love—”

His shoulder pricked, vicious as a wasp sting, and a gunshot rang behind him, something whistling overhead, followed by a wet, meaty thud.

Blood spattered his face and chest.

Chapter Forty-Three

Searing pain exploded from Astrid’s chest. With trembling hands, she reached up, her fingers coming away wet and sticky.

A ferocious roar thundered beneath her.

The world whirled as Gudariks whisked her to the ground, covering her with his body. He breathed heavily, as if the exertion had knocked the wind out of him, and with how badly his frame shook, she thought he might collapse.

Slapping a hand to his shoulder, he pulled a red-tipped dart from the muscle.

Tranquilizer.They wanted him alive.

But her...

Each drawn breath carved its way out of her, fuzzy black spots dotting her vision as her breathing became shallower and shallower. She knew she needed oxygen, but it hurt so much. All because of the dark crater in the dead center of her chest.

Eyes wild with panic, Gudariks pressed both hands to the torn, jagged flesh. To stanch the bleeding? Keep her insides where they were supposed to be? She wanted to scream, twist away, but it hurt too much to do even that.

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