Page 80 of What Blooms from Death

We were supposed to be trying to see if we could connect more deeply, to access the hidden reserves of our power. To purposely control it. This was an experiment.

Magic.

Nothing more.

So when I moved my hips against him, I was thinking only of drawing outpower, not pulling out his groans that vibrated so pleasantly against the back of my neck. I was not focused on the way his hand roamed under my shirt and uncovered thebare curves of my breasts. Not the way that hand traced and pinched the velvety tip of one into a perfectly erect point, either—or the way his other hand continued to work between my legs, finally sliding beneath my clothes and finding the dampness awaiting him. And I was certainlynotfocused on the way his breath audibly caught at the feel of that dampness and his touch became rougher, less restrained.

The room seemed more alive than ever—bright and shivering with a power that heightened all my senses, almost to the point of ecstasy. The air felt less heavy, somehow. The banners hanging above us started to sway and flutter as if stirred by a gentle breeze.

The hand teasing my breasts stilled, and Aleksander pulled the other one from between my legs. I started to protest only to be silenced by his fingers slipping into my mouth. I was so aroused by this that my first instinct was to try and pull them in more fully, more deeply—a move that had his cock twitching against my backside.

“Fuck,” he growled.

I pulled my mouth away from his fingers, dragging my lips over them as I went. “I would be willing, but I don’t think that would count asgoing slowly.”

He let out something between a harsh laugh and a curse.

I pressed harder against him, rolling my hips a bit.

He responded to my taunting by slipping his hand back between my legs and plunging two wet fingers inside of me.

I cried out from a combination of shock and pleasure, and he moved the hand from my chest to instead cover my mouth.

“We’re trying not to be overheard, if you’ll recall,” he said as his hand moved away from my mouth and down across my body once more, skimming over my stomach, joining the other in worshipping my sex. While that hand stretched me further to accommodate him, his fingers slid in and out of me at atorturously slow pace, thrusting deeper each time, pressing and curling against my inside walls until I was biting back a moan.

I kept one arm looped around his neck for balance, but with the other I reached down to grip the hand with its fingers inside of me, urging him even deeper.

Aleksander pressed his face closer to mine, his voice low as he said, “Eager to use your hands again tonight, I see.”

I blushed, remembering our conversation from the shore of Nyras. “I’m very good with them, if you’ll recall.”

With a low, dark laugh, he said, “It’s still no substitute for what I could do for you, if you’d like me to.”

Those last five words succeeded in turning what remained of my rational thoughts into a useless pile of mush.

“So we’ve given up ongoing slowly, have we?” I purred.

His lips trailed along my jawline, nipping at my earlobe. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

I swallowed hard, as if to clear a path for such a word. But I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t seem to sayanythingwhile he was kissing my face, my neck, my hair so hungrily; while his fingers continued to fill me, to move against me with such perfect, expert strokes.

If you’d like me to.

There were far too many things I would havelikedhim to do in that moment.

He shifted beneath me, sitting up slightly, angling himself so his fingers could penetrate more fully.

My head tipped back. Both my arms dropped to my sides, hands grappling for the edge of the bench, searching for something else to steady myself against.

As soon as I gripped the wood, a vision flooded my mind.

The chatter of the crowd I’d heard earlier returned in a deafening rush, violently jerking me out of my rapture. I blinked, and the scenery flickered; suddenly, there were other benchesbelow the platform I sat upon, all of them filled with smartly dressed people, their jewels glittering in the light of countless chandeliers.

Another blink, and those chandeliers burned much lower; a performance was underway on a stage in the room below—a tragedy, judging by the distraught faces around me, and by the sudden rush of anguish that overtook me.

I leapt from Aleksander’s lap so quickly I tripped. I would have slammed head-first into the floor if not for the way he reflexively hooked an arm around me, slowing my fall. He tumbled with me off the bench, and we were a mess of tangled limbs and breathless, confused cursing for a moment before we managed to pull apart and face one another.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

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