Page 104 of Crown of Wrath

I’ve never undone a cravat or waistcoat before, but I refuse to let that stop me. My fingers are steady as I work, one button at a time, peeling away the layers that separate us. Cole watches me in silence, his breath coming slower and deeper, as if he’s savoring every second. His clothes pile at his feet, my wedding gown lost beneath them, a memory of the day that led us here.

“Men wear too many clothes,” I mutter as I reach the last few fastenings.

Cole huffs a quiet laugh. “I could take care of them with a flick of fire.” His voice is husky, thick with the promise of what’s coming.

I shake my head, kissing the sliver of skin I’ve just exposed between the folds of silk. “Not these. Today is important. Besides, there’s no need to rush. We have all night.”

His exhale is soft and shudders as my fingers ghost over him, tracing the lines of his muscles with slow, deliberate reverence. There is nothing beyond this room, nothing beyond us. For once, we aren’t running or fighting. For once, time is ours to spend as we please.

His shirt slips from his shoulders, and my fingers dip into the waistband of his trousers—a tease, a promise. The hardness beneath my touch tells me he needs this as much as I do. I dragit out, watching his restraint coil tighter and tighter, savoring the way he aches for me.

Tonight, I am in control, and it is intoxicating to watch him unravel beneath my touch.

Shadows curl at my fingertips, stretching into long, sharp nails. I trail them down his stomach, leaving thin crimson lines in their wake—marks that heal almost as soon as they appear. But the momentary sting only fuels the fire in his eyes, his body tensing, his breath hitching.

And I smile, because I know he is mine.

The last buttons of his pants come undone, and he forces himself to stay still, letting me dictate the pace. With a single motion, I push them down, leaving him bare before me. Nothing separates us now.

He’s so hard, his need glistening at the tip. I know he wants to pull me to bed, but I have other plans. My lips part, and I kneel, watching his eyes widen as realization dawns.

I press a kiss to the head of his shaft, tasting him, savoring the way he shivers but holds himself back. Cole is control incarnate, yet I can feel the storm beneath his skin. My tongue flicks over him, and through our bond, his restraint pulses like a taut wire, stretched to the breaking point. He wants—gods, he needs—to move, to take, to turn teasing into more.

Instead, he moans, “Maeve… I need you. All of you.”

His voice is raw, edged with desperation, and it makes me smile. He could claim what he wants in an instant, yet he surrenders to my touch, to my pace. He knows I’m making this night something we’ve never had before.

Something slow.

My shadows weave around him, caressing the ridges of his stomach, tracing his lips with a cool wetness. A shudder runs through him, and then my darkness curls around the base of his shaft, tightening just enough.

He moans, hips pressing forward despite himself. A wicked thrill rushes through me. I lower my lips over him, and as soon as the heat of my mouth surrounds him, flames erupt around us. They don’t burn. My shadows absorb the heat, just as his fire can no longer harm them.

Because his fire is mine.

And my darkness belongs to him.

A groan tears from his throat, and his fingers tangle in my hair. He tries to be still, but I feel every pulse of his self-control fraying, unraveling. My tongue glides along the base of his shaft, and his hips jerk, involuntary, driven by sheer need. Through our bond, I feel it—the way his body aches for mine, the desperate pull of his hunger.

I drag my nails lightly over his balls, and his restraint buckles. He’s shaking, breath ragged, fingers tight in my hair, but still—still—he holds back. Just barely. His eyes blaze molten orange as he stares down at me, lost in sensation. No smirk. No teasing grin. Just raw, undiluted desire.

If I told him to take me, to give in completely… what would he do?

The thought sends a delicious thrill through me. I release him, rising to my feet with deliberate slowness. One hand strokes his length as I meet his gaze, never breaking it, daring him to snap.

“Take me, Cole,” I whisper. “Show me what you want to do to me.”

There’s no time to finish my thought. He’s already moving, lifting me with a growl, hands gripping my thighs as his mouth crashes into mine. His claws lengthen, pressing into my bare skin. A gasp escapes me, swallowed by the hunger of his kiss.

Flames and shadows swirl around us, the same dance that ignited during the bonding ceremony. Magic hums in the air, pulses in the floorboards. A rhythm neither of us controls yetmoves us all the same. The sound of it echoes in our breath, our moans, the racing of our hearts.

It is ours.

Just as Valinar has a rhythm, just as the void sings its own song, we have one too. It winds through the very fabric of this moment, surrounding us, binding us.

Because no matter where we are, we are each other’s world.

Cole breaks the kiss, pressing against my entrance, his breath hot against my ear. His voice is a low, dark promise.

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