Page 25 of The Rising Wave

It was as if he had lit a fire inside her.

She couldn't get enough of him, and thank the heavens, he acted as if he couldn't get enough of her, lifting her tunic so they were skin to skin.

He devoured her mouth and slid a finger into the band of her pants, and she gasped in shock and delight as he rubbed her just where her body was insisting it needed attention.

“I have never been . . .” She shuddered, pressed closer to increase the sensation. “Don't stop.”

He bent his head, latched on to the tip of her breast and she made a sound at the back of her throat as she arched to give him better access.

She fumbled with her hand, wrapped it around the hard length of him, and it was his turn to groan.

Suddenly a feeling washed over her, shaking her to her core as she shuddered, blind and deaf for a moment, before she collapsed, panting against his shoulder.

“More,” she said, and then bit down on the tendon between his shoulder and neck.

He lifted her, stripping her trousers, and fumbling with his own.

“You said you have never—” He groaned as she aligned her center against the tip of his cock, and rubbed.

“Never felt so much.” She was ablaze for him, desperate, and overjoyed when his hands shook as he gripped her hips and lifted her up and then down on him.

It was a tight fit, and she wriggled and rocked herself down his length, delighting in the effect it had on him, until suddenly she was firmly seated, flush against him, and she shuddered at the feel of it.

She leaned forward, lips against his ear. “More.”

The muscles in his arms bunched. And he gave her more.

She didn't know how much later it was that he finally lifted her off his lap.

She drew on her trousers, sated and energized. She gave him a wide smile as she flopped back down beside him.

He lifted a hand and touched the short ends of her hair. “Why did they do this?”

“To punish me.” That was the truth, but she knew she was holding back enough that it was almost a lie.

That didn't sit well, now that she had felt him inside her.

“You said you heard something you weren't meant to. What was it that you were sent there for so long?”

She let her lips twist. “I heard the Herald conspiring against the queen.”

His shock at her answer was immediate. “How were you in a position to do that?”

She hunched over her knees, looking down as she plucked at blades of grass. “My parents were trade envoys from Grimwalt, visiting the queen at Fernwell. I was with them.” Except they were more than trade envoys. So much more. But perhaps it wasn't wise to tell the Turncoat King you were niece to the queen.

“Surely Grimwalt has protested—” Understanding lit his eyes. “That is why they've closed their border. In protest.”

She nodded. “I didn't know they had until you told me. And most likely it was more to do with the death of my parents than my disappearance. No one knew what became of me. I smuggled out a message, but I thought it had never made it to my parents. Now I know it did, and coming to rescue me is why they died.”

She looked up, caught his gaze.

“Whoever killed them—the Herald or his people—is why they died. What parent wouldn't try to rescue their child?” The words were spoken with a deep layer of empathy.

She wondered who had tried to rescue him and died trying.

Remembered he'd been in a Chosen camp.

What parent wouldn't have tried to rescue their child from one of those?

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