Page 122 of The Shadow Bride

He senses my decision the instant I make it. When my mouth crashes upon his, he groans, and I capture the sound hungrily, my hands sliding up his fully healed body. Over every glorious dip of his torso, across the hard swell of his chest and shoulders.

He lets me touch him this time. His breathing turns deep and ragged as I drag my mouth along his jaw, caressing every inch of his skin with my tongue. And perhaps it’s the steam of the bathhouse or the heat of the spring—perhaps it’s simply my blood—but a flush of color stains his cheeks as he seizes my shoulders and pulls me away from him, lifting us both to our feet.

Though I instantly protest, he shakes his head with a slow and seductive smile—a smile I feel, somehow, like a tug between my legs. Everything tightens in response. “You don’t know how often I’ve thought of this moment, pet,” he says darkly. “Now that it’s finally here, you cannot expect me to let you have all the fun.”

“Was that not”—my voice hitches as he kneels unexpectedly, his eyes fixed on mine, and slowly peels the damp gown up my body—“fun for you?”

“I can think of other fun things.”

“Another game?” Clamping my knees together, I struggle to remain upright as he bares inch after torturous inch of my skin.And I shouldn’t feel this feverish beneath his gaze. I shouldn’t feel this sensitive, yet the slightest brush of his fingers has me burning, writhing, and he knows it. “I thought you’d grown tired of playing with me.”

“I seem to remember,” he says, and his own eyes heat as he slowly reveals my calves, my thighs, my hips, “that you still owe me several questions.”

“Ask anything you want.” The words come out harsh, breathless.

“Oh no, pet. That would be too easy. Let’s exchange those truths for dares, shall we?”

When he presses an open-mouthed kiss to my belly, I tear at the bodice of my gown to loosen the strings. I wrench it aside—wrench all of it aside—as his laughter rumbles through the bathhouse, and he straightens to stare at my naked body.

His grin fades then. His expression empties completely, but I can still feel him through the bond—the sharp clench of lust, yes, but also the deep and unending ache that blooms in his chest as he looks at me.

Taking his hand, I pull him flush against me, and his satisfaction envelops us through the bond. His joy and his relief. Mine. The word reverberates between us, and I cannot tell whether it came from him or me.

Still I kiss him in answer, however. Yours.

Without warning, he sweeps an arm behind my knees and tosses me into the pool.

Spluttering, I shoot to the surface indignantly—pushing sopping-wet hair from my eyes—to find Michal has already joined me. A wicked gleam shines in his eyes as he glides throughthe water, parting it with smooth and powerful strokes of his arms. His shoulders. Stalking me as a predator with prey.

Never run from a vampire.

I cannot help it. With a ludicrous grin, I dive beneath the surface and shoot toward the opposite end of the pool, but he catches my foot in an instant, dragging me back with laughable ease and pulling me against his body.

His naked body.

My legs wrap around his waist reflexively, and water sluices between us as he lifts me higher, pressing another kiss to my throat and walking us to the edge of the pool. Gooseflesh erupts when he presses me against it—because seeing Michal naked is so different from feeling his skin against mine, to realizing the full and immovable scope of him.

“First dare.” He catches my earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. “Try not to make a sound.”

Before I can answer, he lifts me to sit at the edge of the pool, the water lapping at my calves as I brace my hands behind me. Then he spreads my legs. He bends his head. And he kisses me at the apex of my thighs.

At the first slide of his tongue, my hips jerk, and my back arches. At the second, my head tips backward of its own volition, and my eyes clamp shut lest I split apart at the very seams—something he seems intent on causing because with the third, he throws my legs over his shoulders. His arms snake around my backside, holding me to him, as he drags his tongue upward to that bundle of nerves before sucking deeply. And in that instant, I forget about his dare—I forget my own name—moaning loudly and seizing his hair to find more of that delicious friction. To press harder. Towork my hips in time with his tongue until I—I—

My legs stiffen, clamping around his head, but his fingers bite into my own skin too; he refuses to stop licking, to stop feasting, until the bathhouse shatters around me completely. Even then—though I bow backward, unable to withstand the near violent pleasure—he follows until the last shudder leaves my body. Until I collapse upon the stone floor with loose and shaking limbs.

“That was—” I cannot find the right words, however, gulping great lungfuls of air as if they might somehow help me. “You—”

But Michal is heaving himself out of the pool now, kissing up my body as he comes. And another wave of impossible heat washes through me as he settles between my legs, as the length of him presses long and hard against my thigh. My vision swims at the intoxicating feel of it, and instantly, I reach down to take him in my hands. He shakes his head, however, his jaw clenched and his face strained as he kisses my jaw, my chin. “If you touch me now,” he says in a strained voice, “the game will end too soon.”

“But I want you to feel like this too,” I say breathlessly. “I want you to—”

“I do.” With a harsh exhale—perhaps a strangled laugh—he drops his forehead to my own, every muscle in his body tightly leashed. “You make it good without even trying.” Then— “Next dare. If you don’t want to do this, tell me now, and nothing will change between us. I can kiss you until you’re ready, or forever if you’d like—”

My hands snake around his back, daring him to finish that sentence. “I want to do this, Michal, and I want to do it with you.”

“It’ll hurt, Célie.”

“And then it won’t,” I say fiercely. “I’ve read the books. I know how this works.”

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