Page 203 of Flirting with Darkness

“Because”—I gave him the slightest shake—“you are not.”

Under my hands, his jaw turned solid.

“You aremore. When I first met you, I thought you were a beast.” I gave him a half smile. “And you are, but what I hadn’t realised is that being a beast is no bad thing. It took a beast to scare away the werewolf pack. It took a beast to rip apart the kelpie and end the washerwoman’s trap. It took a beast to make mewantfor my own sake. If that’s what being a beast is, then I’ll take beast over beauty any day.”

I swallowed, throat thick at my litany of admissions, at the treatment he’d faced. I just had one more want to get out—for now, at least. Who knew what dam I’d broken open—one want seemed to lead to another, to another, to another.

“Faolán.” I ran my fingers through his beard, fighting the desire to pull him to my lips. If he felt the same, then soon. But not yet. “I want every inch of the beast you are.”

Silence for one breath. Two. Three.

Then there was no room for breaths—not between us, anyway, because his lips were on mine and he backed me against the courtyard wall, fingers tangling in my hair. “Rose,” he whispered against my mouth, “Iamyours. Your husband. Your shield. Your beast.” He kissed me again, again, again, like he was trying to prove what he said was true.

And as he couldn’t lie… Well, the sentences formed by his tongue had to be truth, but the thrust of that same tongue into my mouth obliterated all thought, except for the repetition of his words in my mind.

I am yours. Your husband. Your shield. Your beast.

And his kisses were every bit those of the beast I wanted. Hard. Deep. Devouring. Catching my breath and holding it hostage as he pinned me against the wall.

Somehow I’d managed to wrap my legs around his waist, and I could feel how much he wanted me, too. It was dizzying, glorious, the hard press of him against the soft sensitivity of me. But…

“There’s one more thing I want,” I panted, lips grazing his.

He pulled back, pupils so wide, I could’ve fallen into their depths. “Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow, then pressed his lips, his tongue against my throat, sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin, making my body hotter and hotter. “What’s that?”

I threaded my fingers through his thick hair, pulling strands loose from the knot. “I want to wake up so we can do this in reality.”

“You want this?” He grabbed my backside and ground into me.

My dress did nothing to dampen the sensation, and I shivered at the slick wetness he made pool at my core. I nodded and arched into him. “Wake up,” I huffed. “I want to wake up.”

And I did.

33

WONDER

Surrounded by drifting fae lights, alone at last, we stood in the courtyard. Him in his tight, tight trousers, me in the loose folds of my semi-sheer gown. I didn’t question it. Didn’t want to. Not when I could feel him for real, hold him for real, kiss him and make him minefor real.

And I didn’t delay that, leaping into his arms, wrapping my legs around him, anchoring my lips to his, opening to let his tongue sweep into my mouth.

Much as the memory-dreams felt solid, there was something they lacked compared to this. Here, I knew his hands really were squeezing my arse, holding me hard against him. Here, I knew he really was kissing me like our lives depended on it. Here, I knew he really was mine and that it wasn’t just some shade of our awareness trapped in a haunted house’s nightmares.

It seared through me, hot and bright and beautiful. I squeezed him tighter, rocking against the hardness that strained at his trousers, tugging on his hair, meeting his tongue swipe for swipe as it plunged into my mouth.

Somewhere beyond the depth of our kiss, there was a sense of movement, and moments later, my backside landed on something solid. I gasped at the cold, realising it was also wet, and Faolán pulled back far enough to grin at me, before trailing his lips to my neck. He’d sat me on the edge of the fountain, its water gushing against my bottom and over the edge of the shallow stone basin, flowing into the grate below.

Truth be told, the cool was welcome after all the heat he’d stoked in me. And that heat rose even higher as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder, making me shiver.

Somehow, I managed to huff out that I’d been taking the preventative tea, provided by House, so I couldn’t get pregnant.

He lifted one shoulder and held my gaze for long enough to say, “Fae men take precautions until they want to sire. Me included. No danger of children here.” Then he was back to teasing my throat, finding every sensitive spot he could, setting my nerves on fire.

I’d only been locked in this house with him for a month, but it felt like I’d wanted this and denied myself it for a lifetime.

What an idiot.

But no more.

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