Page 83 of Heart of the Summer Queen

He offers no warning before pushing himself inside me, burying himself so suddenly and so deeply I can’t help fromcalling out. And yet the fullness of him feels so delightfully right, especially since I’m still crashing down from my blissful high.

I don’t even know when he unfastened his breeches.

“You feel,” he manages between haggard breaths, sliding himself out before driving back in, “unbelievable.”

My only response is a moan as he grabs my breast and rolls my hard nipple between his fingers. His other hand stays on my lower back, keeping me pressed firmly down on my knees. The entire sensation of him is so overwhelming I think I will shatter inside out.

My gaze snags on the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. The moonlight filtering in through the curtains offers enough illumination for me to glimpse our silhouettes. In its reflection, I watch his free hand trailing across my breasts, exploring every inch of my skin, and I do my best to commit the image, the feeling, the sound—all of it—to my memory. Capturing it as perfectly as only the most talented of painters could.

“I would do this all day, every day, to you,” he breathes into my ear, “my queen.”

“Elaric . . . ”

He groans, and then his next stroke is so terribly out of rhythm that I think he is already crashing down from his peak. But then his tempo steadies, and he murmurs against the back of my neck, “Watch yourself in the mirror. Watch yourself come around me.”

My core clenches at his words, and they seem to have ensnared me into some spell, since there’s nothing I can do but stare at the mirror, watching as he thrusts into me. His hand is at my center, tracing lavish circles over and over. And through the mirror, I see him watching us too. Hear the desire in his every breath.

“I don’t think I will last,” I choke out, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of this moment.

Though it’s been mere minutes since I just came, it’s all I can do to grip the sheets and prevent myself from climaxing again so soon.

In the end, it’s Elaric who breaks first.

“Adara . . . ” he rasps.

The raw passion in his voice slams me over the edge. The waves of pleasure which wash over me are so much more potent than the ones from before.

His body relaxes as the tension seeps from him. Then the two of us fall still, ragged breaths filling the otherwise silent room. My knees ache, but I can’t move, as if I am caught in a trance.

Elaric is the one who stirs first, sweeping aside my sweaty hair and kissing my neck in such an achingly sweet gesture. “You are so beautiful,” he says, every syllable filled with as much reverence as a prayer.

All I can do is close my eyes and lean back against him, savoring all his warmth.

We stay like that for another minute before Elaric slides out of me, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me beside him onto the bed.

In the darkness, he stares at me, bright eyes trailing over my features. I watch him before reaching out, tentatively at first, and trace his face with my fingertips. The gentleness of it is a stark contrast to the uncontrollable passion we shared moments ago.

And when at long last I’m done, he captures my hand and kisses the top of my head. “Sleep well, my queen.”

thirty

I spend the entire night cradled in Elaric’s arms, sleeping more peacefully than I have in years. Not since Dalia vanished have I rested this well. All those nights after her disappearance were filled with so much grief, and when the sharp, raw pain faded, it became a burning hatred which consumed my soul for three long years. Even after entering the Crystal Palace, my sleep remained uneasy, the weight of my scheming taking its toll on my mind. And then, ever since our wedding night, my heart has been warring against the regret which threatened to devour it.

Maybe tomorrow night, when we’ve left behind this village and return our focus to finding Isidore and ending the curse, my unconscious mind will be once more engulfed by the fear of our failure. But tonight, nestled against Elaric, my mind is untroubled. His presence eclipses all my worries and doubts.

The serenity doesn’t exist in my sleep alone. It lingers even as I wake, my eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the gentle dawn light filtering through the curtains.

Elaric is already awake, a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches me shed the fogginess of slumber. I stay encircled in his arms, which are more comforting than any blanket.

“Have you been awake long?” I ask.

“A while, I suppose.”

My attention slides over to the curtain, trying to decide how late into the morning it must be. With them drawn shut, it’s impossible to know if it’s closer to dawn or midday. “You should have awoken me.”

“It’s still early,” he says, “and you were sleeping.”

I yawn. “What time is it?”

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