Page 30 of Blood of Wolves

Lashes lowered, lips parted, he breathed in ragged little gasps, chest pressing against hers on inhales that shook his whole body. Firelight licked up the side of his face – and flashed red in his eyes, when his lashes finally lifted, his pupils blown wide, his hunger naked and shocking…and tempered with disbelief. With an adoration touched by pain.

“Is this real?” he asked, voice a hoarse whisper. “Is this happening?”

A painful twisting her chest. Regret, and sympathy, and a wanting too-long denied.

She found his hand, where it hovered at her side; smoothed her thumb over his dry, warm palm, and then pressed it to the base of her throat, two fingers against the high neckline of her gown, two on her bare skin, where her heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird.

“It’s real. I’m real…and I want this. Wantyou.”

His gaze flicked up to meet hers, checking, reading her, then dropped again, fixed on his hand. His fingers flexed the slightest amount, gentle pressure on delicate skin.

“Bjorn,” she prompted.

Then he moved. His hand slid around to cup her nape, finger spearing through her bound hair. He tipped her head back a fraction, as he leaned in, so her throat was open, and exposed. His breath rushed hot and wine-sweet over her parted lips, and she thought he might say something, offer some last chance to back away, and change her mind.

But all he did was growl, rough and low in his throat, and kiss her.

Now, finally, all his delicacy and reticence evaporated. He kissed her like he wanted to devour her, tongue hot and slick against her own, lips urging hers wider; a kiss that slanted and pressed deep, until all she could do was clutch at his shoulders and hold on, neck going weak, head falling back into the supportive hand that still cupped her neck. He wasstarvedfor her, and she could feel that in each slick slide, in the rough breaths he huffed through his nose.

She’d never been happier to let herself melt, and give up control to someone else.

One of his hands trailed down the side of her throat, down her chest, over the velvet that covered her breasts, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, even beneath her clothes. He broke away from her mouth, the sound wet and lewd in the quiet, and pressed a chain of damp kisses along her jaw, down her neck. His hand found her waist, settled in the dip there, andsqueezed.

“Rev,” he panted against her collarbone. “I don’t…” His other hand tightened, briefly, in her hair, a solid pressure against her scalp. Then he released her; started to draw away.

“No!”

He paused, hands hovering in the air before her. His brow was furrowed as if in pain, his eyes gone black with want.

“Don’t you dare play the gentleman now,” she said. “Bjorn. Please, you–”

He shushed her with another kiss, both hands petting up and down her thighs in near-frantic strokes. When he drew back, he managed a shaky smile. “I just…I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. Just because of the war.” His breath hitched, throat jerking as he swallowed. “Because I don’t think – no, Iknow, that I can’t come back from this. I can’t stop once we start. I can’t be your big brother anymore, after this.” His grip stilled, and tightened. “I love you too much.”

Gods. This man.

Revna took a few shallow breaths to steady herself. Then she reached, slow enough that he could stop her, if he wanted – he didn’t – and tugged the bead and tie loose from the end of his braid. Unwound it slowly, turn by turn, until she could run her fingers through the whole, heavy mass of his hair, arraying it across his shoulders. Where she straddled him, she felt his cock stir against her inner thigh, large enough to make her shiver, belly clenching in anticipation.

“Bjorn. Darling.” She rasped a thumb along his beard, the sharp edge of his jaw beneath. “You’ve known me my whole life. Am I a liar?”

He tipped his head, smirk teasing at his lips. “Well, you did try to insist that you were fine earlier–”

“Hush. Am I a liar? When it really counts?”

Another rough swallow; she laid her hand on his throat to feel it, to touch the strength of even that part of him. He really was a great bear of a man. “No,” he murmured, gaze tracking over her face, still disbelieving and awed, after the kisses they’d shared.

She cupped his face. “Then believe me when I say that I couldn’t possibly regret this. Not ever. Notyou. For as long as you’ll want me.”

She reached for one of his hands, then, lifted it, and pressed it down between her legs, where the proof of her desire was turning her leggings damp.

His eyes widened on a sharp breath. Then he cupped her there; traced his thumb up and down her folds through thin cloth, pressing just enough to make her gasp.

The room tilted. “What–!” She grabbed on to him, as he stood, effortlessly scooping her up once again. “Bjorn.”

“I’m not doing this on the floor like a savage,” he said, striding toward her chamber. “You deserve better than that.”

Her pulse was a wild drumbeat in her chest, and her thighs squeezed together of their own volition, already wanting his touch between them again. “But don’t you think it’s romantic?” she couldn’t help but tease, breathless, grinning as she held him around the neck. Suddenly, being carried was more thrilling than embarrassing.

He paused a few steps from her door. “Is it?”

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