Page 7 of Heart of the Shadow King

I grip the back of his head and pull him down into my kiss. My lips open, my teeth part, inviting him in deeper. He answers my eagerness. His tongue enters my mouth, tangling with mine. A groan rumbles in his throat. I tremble at the sound, all those pulsing vibrations of connection between us opening wider into a channel of emotion. I feel his pain. I feel his need. I feel his pleasure as though it’s mine. Because it is mine. My pain, my need, my pleasure. All are one with him.

With a gasp, he pulls back. His eyes burn as they stare down into mine. “Faraine,” he says, his voice thick and low, “are you sure—”

“No,” I pant, gripping his face with both hands. “Don’t talk. Please.”

I pull his mouth to mine again. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight. We both know what we need from each other right now. Need with the same absolute necessity of air.

So he kisses me. And I kiss him. If one can even describe such a joining with a word so tender, so simple askiss.This is more than that—a battle to be fought together, win or lose. A bending and bowing, almost to the point of breaking. Grasping and gasping, nearly frantic in the knowledge that this moment, thisnow, may easily be our last. There is no time to waste. There is only whatever we can take and make of each other with all the courage our hearts and bodies may summon.

I let my hands slide from his face down his throat, across shoulders, while his hands press into my spine, travel up the back of my neck, twist in my hair. I mold my body against him, moving and rubbing until he groans, a throaty, almost primal growl. One of his hands slips to the front of my gown, teasing and pulling at my breast until my nipple is hard. His palm is warm through the silky folds of fabric. But it’s not enough.

“More,” I whisper, even as his kisses trail across my jaw, and his tongue and teeth explore the sensitive skin of my throat. “More,more.”

Responding to my pleas, he grabs the front laces of my gown in a twisted handful. Rather than taking the time to untie them, he rips hard, tears the delicate fabric so that it falls open. I suck in a breath of surprise. But then his hands are on my bare flesh, and this is better, so much better. His thumb plays with my nipple even as his kisses hasten down the column of my neck, my collarbone. He kneels before me, yanking the gown down from my shoulders, trapping my arms in tight folds of fabric so that I’m pinned in his grasp. Taking my nipple in his mouth, he sucks and teases with the tip of his tongue. I lean into him, helpless against the waves of pleasure—his and mine—crashing over me.

We don’t make it to the bed. There’s a soft skin rug on the floor, and Vor draws me down onto it, covering my body with his. The warmth of his bare torso pressed against mine is a kind of heaven. I run my hands up and down his muscular back, noting the many cuts and ridges of scar tissue, glorying in them as part of his overall magnificence. My bodice is bunched around my waist, and soon my skirts are hiked up to join it as his hand explores the shape of my knees, my thighs. He trails a finger along my center, and I arch my back, my body responding to that touch with a jolt of pure heat. I feel again those strange sensations he called to life once before. Before our world crumbled around us, before he left me, before I died. Before I’d thought I’d lost all chance of claiming his love.

We have another chance. By the grace and mercy of the gods, we have found one another again. And I won’t lose him now.

I slide my hand down the front of his trousers, taking hold of his swelling length through the fabric. Vor inhales sharply and pulls back. One hand catches my wrist in a firm, implacable grasp. Reluctantly he draws his lips back from my skin, gazing into my eyes. “Faraine,” he says, his voice husky, raw.

Tears rise hot and slip through my lashes. So, this is how it must be. Even now, after everything we’ve endured. After all those declarations on the edge of life and death, still he must withhold himself from me.

Vor sees the hurt in my face. Immediately heartache and regret rush from his soul. He hates this gulf between us as much as I do, more even. But his resolve is stronger. “Faraine,” he says, “you are my wife, my queen. No matter what may come.”

“But not . . . legally,” I whisper.

“Laws be damned!” His voice is almost savage. He bends, captures my lips in his, kissing me hard in a clash of teeth and tongue and passionate resolve. When at last he draws back, staring down at me, we both gasp for breath. “In every sense that matters,” he says, “I am yours, and you are mine. Forever, Faraine. To death and beyond.”

More tears escape to slide down my cheeks. “But you dare not bind yourself to my father.” I loathe speaking those words, bringing the image of Larongar here into this space that is meant only for the two of us. But it is a truth we cannot ignore. Ours is not a marriage of individuals, but of nations. Of worlds.

A surge of desperation washes over me. He wants so much to please me, to stop my tears. War wages inside him, as hot and furious as the ache he feels for me. But would I force him to choose me over Mythanar and the lives of his people? Knowing as I do what a poor risk it is? I am not the valued daughter. I am the broken one. The disposable one. I am not worth it. I must be satisfied with what Vor can safely give. Grateful even. Gods above, how could I not be grateful? I died not twenty-four hours ago! And this man, this warrior, this king, fought with everything he had to bring me back from the dead.

I cup his cheek against my palm, blinking back tears. Then I draw him to me, kiss him again. Sweetly, gently. I let the warmth of his love flow across our connection, back and forth, in time with the pulse of my reawakened gift. When at length I draw back, I whisper, “I want you, Vor. That is all. I want you and whatever you’re willing to give me.”

He presses his forehead against mine, breathes out a terrible sigh. “I would take away your tears forever were it in my power.”

But what good is there in lingering on what we cannot have and cannot give? I won’t waste these precious moments with grief. I pull his mouth to mine, taste the blood, the death, the desperation on his tongue. I receive it, all of it, and the urgency it brings. My chest rises and falls heavily as his ravenous mouth leaves mine and travels between my breasts. He pulls my gown down over my hips, away from my legs, leaving me naked on that fur rug. Now he bends and kisses my stomach then ventures lower still as I writhe and moan in anticipation of what is coming. The last time had felt so unreal, the sensations he called to life in my body like nothing I’d ever imagined. I ache to experience it again. Both my flesh and my heart cry out in anguished desire.

He kneels between my thighs, his fingers running up and down my center, gazing down at me. He parts my flesh, venturing deeper, smiling as more soft gasps escape my lips. “Faraine,” he murmurs. “Faraine, you are so beautiful. My delicate human flower. It was cruel of me to take you so far from the sun of your world. To drag you into these shadows, this darkness.”

“I wanted to come.” A flush steals up my cheeks. After all the deceits that led me to his arms, to speak these words now feels almost sinful. But I cannot help it. There’s no room for falsehood here. The truth must be known. “I wanted you.”

At this he smiles, his teeth flashing in the dimlorstlight. “Gods alone know why!”

Then he catches my hips, hoisting me up to his mouth. I hook my legs over his shoulders, arching my back as his lips and tongue find my hot core. I close my eyes, lost in the sensations of my body and the storm of emotions rolling out from him. One of my hands tangles in his hair, while the other I fling back over my head, searching for something to grasp onto. First little whimpers then deep, guttural groans burst from my lips, from my soul. I’m lost in his feelings—all longing and power and love mingled together in a maelstrom of blinding light. It overwhelms me like my gods-gift, but sweeter, purer.

I’d thought I’d lost him forever. Yet he is here. And we are together. Whatever may come, this moment will live on, an eternity of bliss unmarred by death or time.

I lean into him and his hungry mouth until everything mounting inside me bursts at last. Pure heat washes through me. My eyes flare wide as I cry out his name. All around the room, the walls themselves light up with the answering pulse of all the crystals hidden in the stone. Living crystals, glowing and reverberating in rhythm with my enraptured soul.

He continues pleasuring me until I finally slip my legs down from his shoulders and draw his mouth back up to mine. His lips are warm and wet and swollen, and my body shivers in aftershocks of delight under his hands, his tongue, his nibbling teeth. “Everything about you is so delicious,” he murmurs against my earlobe, making me giggle in response to the tickle of his breath. “I could make a meal of you every day of my life and never want for other sustenance.”

“Are you sure you’d not grow bored on such a diet?” I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Never,” he growls and nips my shoulder as though in proof.

I sigh, replete in his love, lost in his caresses. But something is missing. Something vital. “Vor,” I sigh, running my hands down his silky hair and across those glorious shoulders. “Vor, I want to give to you as you’ve given to me.” I take his cheeks in my hands again, pull him back up to meet my eyes. “I . . . I was told . . . Before I came here, I was given instruction in how to . . . to please my husband. There’s something I might try. If you would like.”

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