Page 31 of Aries

A growl escapes before I can stop it. “Very sensitive. Especially when…” My words trail off as she shifts closer, still maintaining that crucial measure of distance.

“When what?” Her voice has gone husky. “Tell me, Aries. Tell me everything you’ve been holding back.”

“I remember the sounds you make,” I confess, watching heat bloom across her cheeks. “Soft little gasps that drive me wild. I lie awake imagining drawing new sounds from you, learning every note of your pleasure.”

The storm’s fury matches our own as the sleet beats wetly against the windows. Spark’s light pulses deeper, painting patterns across our skin that make every near-touch feel electric.

“I dream about your voice,” she whispers. “The way it goes rough when you want something. Like now.” Her fingers trace patterns in the air just above my arm, never quite touching.

“Tell me what you want, Aries. Every dark thought, every forbidden dream.” Her voice drops low and husky, carrying all the hunger she’s been trying to hide. “Tell me exactly what you’d do if these rules didn’t exist.”

My breathing grows audibly heavier, the careful control I’ve maintained for weeks finally starting to crack.

“You want to know what I think about every night as I lay a mere handspan from you?” My voice is rough with want. “How you’d taste. How you’d sound. How you’d feel wrapped around me when I finally claim what’s mine.”

Taking a shaky breath, I unleash fiveannumsof carefully contained desire into words.

“I want to map every inch of you,” I confess, voice dropping to a rumble that makes her shiver. “Learn every sensitive spot, every place that makes you gasp. I remember one, just here…” My hand hovers over the curve of her neck, not touching but close enough that she must feel its heat. “The way you trembled when my nose brushed there. I told myself it was accidental, but I don’t think it was.”

Lightning flashes again, catching the flush spreading down her neck. “I remember your hands,” she breathes, eyes locked on mine. “So strong when I watched you days later in the training ring, but so gentle at night. I’ve watched you fight a hundred times since we fought for our freedom, imagining those same hands on my skin again.”

The barrier between us feels like it’s burning as we trade heated memories and darker desires. Spark’s protective crimson dome pulses, matching our racing hearts.

“There are two spots at the base of your spine,” she continues, her voice gone husky. “I felt it one night, when in our tangle of limbs I turned over, despite your insistencethat we not look at each other. My thumbs somehow found the shallow divots. I remember how you shuddered when I touched you there. Do you still respond that way? Do you still make that deep, desperate sound in your throat?”

A growl vibrates through my chest at her words. “Try me and find out.” The challenge in my voice makes her pupils dilate further. “When these trials are done, when I can finally touch you properly…”

“Tell me,” she demands softly. “Tell me exactly what you’ll do.”

Thunder crashes as I paint pictures with words—of touches too long denied, of passion too long contained. Of all the ways I want to worship her body, learn her pleasure, make her forget there was ever distance between us.

Her breathing grows ragged as I describe each forbidden fantasy. “I dream about your mouth,” she admits, watching heat flare in my eyes. “About how it felt against my skin during the feeding ritual. How your lips curved when you smiled at something I said. How they’d feel trailing down my throat, across my collarbone…”

She pauses, her own breathing growing uneven. “I imagine what sounds you’d make if I traced your horns with my tongue.”

“When I can touch you again,” I promise roughly, “I’m going to takehoaras. Learn every way to make you come apart under my hands, my mouth…”

Her soft moan nearly breaks my control. “Tell me more.” Her tone is urgent

And so I do, painting pictures of passion with words alone while the storm rages outside and Spark’s light wraps us in crimson intimacy. We maintain that crucial physical distance while our words eliminate all other barriers, sharing every secret desire, every forbidden dream we’ve never dared voice.

“You mentioned once… that you could smell my arousal, Aries. Was that true?”

Dear Gods, am I imagining things or does the rustle of the sheets mean she’s spread her thighs to bathe me with her delicious scent?

Yes. That’s exactly what she’s done. And yes… “Yes, sweet Callista. You could tempt a dead man to rise from his grave with a luscious scent like that. You’re killing me.”

After more rustling, my mind imagining a thousand things she might be doing under the covers, each more obscene than the last, she pulls her hand from under the covers, one finger glistening with moisture.

My cock punches against my sleep pants, dripping with pre-cum, I’m certain.

She gives me a naughty smile. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on her face before as she paints her lips with her cream.

I don’t understand how the Committee monitors us, how they know if we break rules when they’re not around. I imagine it’s some type of magic. But they won’t need sorcery to hear my groan of desire all the way into town.

“I hear the other males talk, little Callista. They say some females like to be punished. Is that what you want? To be spanked, perhaps, for driving me insane. I may deserve the death penalty, but this? This torture? I don’t deserve this.”

She tosses her head, giving me a sly smirk. “Sorry, Aries. I don’t want to torture you. I just want you to feel as desperate as I do.”

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