Page 154 of Ash and Feather

He raised a brow. “You are the only being in any realm that I’m willing to kneel before. I hope you realize that.”

I did. But hearing him say the words out loud sent a pleasant tingle down my spine. “I’ll try to wield the power responsibly.”

His smirk gave way to a mischievous little grin.

“You’re plotting something,” I accused.

“Am I?”

“Out with it.”

“I had a thought, is all.” He gripped my hand more tightly, drawing me farther into his lap, pressing me more firmly against his hard, impressive length.

“A thought?”

“That you should wield nothing tonight.” He massaged my hand as he spoke, rubbing and smoothing away the tension that had been trying to curl my fingers into a fist for the past several hours. “You are ruthless and magical and capable of bringing all the gods to their knees,” he said. “But tonight…you should relax.Yieldrather than wield.”

“Yield?”

“To me.”

He must have seen a flash of panic in my eyes, because his smile turned softer—though a bit teasing—as he said, “You know what it means toyield, don’t you? To lower your guard? To relax?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” I deadpanned.

“Well, let me teach you.” The way he saidteachmade my heart skip several beats. It nearly pounded out of my chest altogether when he whispered, “Let me take care of you tonight, the way you deserve to be taken care of.”

Heat pooled between my thighs as he leaned closer. Our noses brushed. The hand he’d been using to massage mine moved higher, skimming along my arm, up to my shoulder, rubbing away the tension gathered there, before moving on to the back of my neck.

A shiver of anticipation and desire crept down my spine. And it didn’t stop there, this time; it coursed through me until every inch of my skin prickled with awareness. With want.

Withneed.

His other hand moved to the small of my back, rubbing small circles against the satiny fabric of my nightgown. An almost innocent, absent-minded touch, yet it stirred something deep inside me—a flame at my center that burned hotter and hotter with every caress, until my head tipped back into his strong palm and a soft note of pleasure escaped me.

His hand against my back stilled, holding me more securely. His other one shifted from the back of my neck, fingers wrapping lightly around the side of my throat. Tiny little points of pressure, so strong—yet restrained—against me.

And I started to imagine what it would be like to fully trust and relax into that strength.

To let him do whatever he wanted to me.

A thrill went through me at this last thought.

He let out a low laugh. Likely because he’d heard that thought for himself. “Have I successfully distracted you from all themood killerswe’re facing?”

“For the moment,” I admitted.

“Then let’s not waste the moment.” Without another word, he leaned me back onto the mattress.

The sudden loss of his body heat caused a violent shiver. But the cold lasted only an instant before he was moving over me, fingertips sliding along my body, lingering on pressure points, massaging with precise flexes of power and occasional bursts of heat.

Little by little, he stroked away much of the tension I’d been carrying from the past days.

I closed my eyes. Despite my usual tendency to want to overthink and map out every touch and breath between us, it seemed Iwascapable of letting these things go. Ofrelaxing.

I’d never felt this way with any other lover—comfortable enough to fall asleep one moment, wide awake and eager for more than just his careful, massaging touch in the next.

The longer his hands worked over me, the more pliable I became beneath them. After several minutes, all memory of the tension I’d carried into this bedroom was disappearing. I felt like I was melting into a warm bath, my body unfolding, opening for him in every sense of the word.

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