Page 79 of What Blooms from Death

I fought the desire to shift more completely into his arms, but I couldn’t keep my hands from reaching for the light that was peeling off him in gossamer strands. It settled briefly between my fingers, its weight palpable, but as soft and delicate as spider-webs.

His face pressed against my hair, warm breath drifting through the dark strands and tingling over my scalp as he whispered, “I want to touch you.”

I swallowed hard. “Youaretouching me.”

“Not the way I want to.” The words slipped out, low and rough with reluctance. Almost like a confession.

“The way your magicwants to, you mean.”

“Yes,” he ground out. “That.”

I leaned a little more fully into his embrace. Such a small movement, but it felt like tipping my weight forward instead of backward—likehurtlingforward onto a precarious, crumbling ledge that was seconds away from giving out beneath me.

Chapter Twenty

Nova

“Nova...”My name on his lips somehow sounded like both a plea and a command rolled into one. Like a king not accustomed to asking permission for the things he wanted; unsure of how it was done, yet willing—at least in this moment—to try groveling for it.

Forme.

He nuzzled his face more fully into my hair. Another warm breath, and then I was nodding, giving him permission, desperate for the tingling across my scalp to overtake the rest of my body.

His feather-light touch was abruptly gone, replaced by a far more possessive grip against my hip. He pulled my back flush against his chest as his fingers dug in, pinning me in place while his other hand traveled along my curves, delicious heat spreading from beneath his large palm as he grasped and fumbled at my clothing.

I felt a stirring low in my stomach, a tightness coiling without mercy. An anticipation, an ache, a need…or, no—it was theword he’d used earlier: A craving.The only real name for this insatiable feeling building between us.

Part of me still hated it. Hatedhim, even as I gave in and allowed his fingers to continue to explore, to slip beneath the hem of my shirt.

This was wrong, sobreathtakinglywrong,and so against everything I had believed foryears.

But I wantedhis hands to keep roaming across my stomach. To continue inching higher, finding their way to my breasts. Ineededhim to do more than just chase shadows and drip light over my skin. I needed his fingers to find all my other places. Hidden places. Deeper places.

My balance swayed at the thought, and a quiet laugh rumbled in his chest before he said, “You could survive whatever dangerous magic we might summon, you claimed, yet you can’t even properly stand.”

“It’s been a long couple days of walking, in my defense.”

“Well, allow me to help steady you,” he said, pulling me even more fully to him, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear with the words. He kept his mouth close to that sensitive spot as his hand roved over my hip, moving toward my inner thigh. My body arched automatically, trying to pull his hand closer to my center. He sucked in a breath at the motion, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to balance.

“You don’t feel particularly steady yourself,” I teased, the words breathless and faint.

He raked a hand into my hair, the bite of his grip just shy of hurting. “An infuriating effect you seem to have on me.”

“Another cruel trick the universe is playing?”

“The cruelest yet.” He used the grip in my hair to tilt my head toward him, exposing my neck to his ravenous mouth.

Stars danced in my vision as he kissed and sucked against my throbbing pulse. I felt like I was falling—another slip of balance.Mine, or his, or both of ours, I didn’t know. But we eventually backed together toward stability, toward the raised platform and the bench centered upon it.

He sank onto the discolored cushions, dragging me down into his lap as he went. His hand smoothed across my body, encouraging me to stretch it out against his. I reached back as I did, hooking my arms around his neck. The pose felt wonderfully, terrifyingly intimate and vulnerable, even with my back to him, even with both of us remaining entirely clothed.

His lips were again pressed to the side of my neck an instant later. His leg wedged between mine, spreading them apart, leaving more room for his hand to cup the space between. He moved slowly, just as he’d said we should, applying pressure to my aching center with teasing strokes, yet leaving a barrier of clothing between us.

“And darker, still,” he murmured after a moment, the fingertips of his other hand trailing along my arm.

I blinked the stars from my eyes, focusing long enough to see what he meant; the markings upon my skin were so black they looked less like shadows and more like shining ink. His magic continued to build as well, the threads of it occasionally diving into my darkness, weaving us together in a heady combination of power and pleasure.

Magic.

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