Page 146 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Where do you think you’re going?” he grumbles, breath hot against my ear.
“I should clean up,” I manage to say, my voice breathy. “We can’t stay in bed forever.”
“Why not?” Bodin licks my new mating mark, and I shiver. His hand glides down my stomach. “You’re still burning up. Let me take care of your needs.”
“I’m fine.” A wiggle of anticipation. A groan.
His fingers curl between my legs and swipe through my slick folds.
“Fucking liar,” he nips my ear and I shiver. “So wet for me.”
The head of his cock is pushing between my thighs, nudging closer to my entrance. He raises my leg to accommodate a quick thrust. I gasp at the sudden fullness. Groan as he pulls out and drives back in. Pleasure scores my insides. Each punishing thrust hits me hard, deep. He locks me in against him with one arm, fondling my breast, while the other braces my thigh, lifting it higher.
“Touch yourself,” he growls. “My hands are occupied.”
I let go of embarrassment over my insatiable desire sometime last night. He doesn’t care how badly I need this. Watching me touch myself makes him harder. I slide my fingers down, groan when I connect with my clit. He watches overmy shoulder, fucks me harder. When his teeth clamp down on my neck, adding to the sense of being owned, my orgasm hits. Hard. I lose all sense of time, my body, my life—except where he connects with me, grounding against me, filling me with his release.
We lie there wasted—gathering our breaths and feeling so good.
“What a fun way to wake up,” I mutter, smiling at the delicious ache.
“Get used to it,” he replies, lips against my upper spine. “I am devoting myself to exploring this . . . fun with you.”
His words bring a flurry of memories from last night. His brother, the Seventh. His shame. His heartache. Theirs. I roll to face him and find raw anguish on his face. I cup his jaw, and he leans into my touch.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb over his Guardian teardrop. “That was so cruel of Maebh to do.”
His brows meet in the middle, but he doesn’t speak. He is tense and still.
“Are you okay, Bodin?”
I don’t think he’s even breathing. He won’t open his eyes. Maybe he can’t with me staring at his face. I duck my head beneath his jaw and kiss his neck.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” I whisper. “I’ll hold you until you are.” And then, because I haven’t said it, I add, “I love you.”
His harsh exhale tickles my hair. Strong arms wrap around my shoulders and squeeze. I hear his sharp inhale a few times as if he’s trying to say something.
“You don’t have to say it back.” I pat his abs. “I just want you to know how I feel.”
“It’s not that I can’t say it. Love is not the right word for us. Love is . . . a single muscle pumping in the body, tiny and insignificant at its core.”
I snort. “Thanks for shitting on my?—”
He growls and rolls on top of me, cupping my face with his large hands so I look directly into his wild, dark, and expressive eyes. “We spent eons trying to understand love. We ripped bodies apart, flayed them to pieces, devoured hearts, and were so disappointed. This was the apparent home of love—yet it was . . . nothing. I would keep trophies of those parts, pieces of my obsessions, and hang them in my room to remind myself that love does not exist.” A sharp, incredulous laugh huffs out of him. “And it doesn’t. Not amongst the pieces, but . . .” His gaze hardens on me. “It comestothe pieces. From thefeelingof being surrounded, contained, safe, accepted, and wanted. It comes from the thing stopping those pieces from falling apart. You are ourskin, Willow. And if we ever lose you, we?—”
I press my lips to his, stopping his train of words. I don’t want to talk about maybes. I don’t want to talk about loss. Not now. He tenses at first but then melts into me. Our kiss is tender, sweet, and all those things he explained. In his weird Sluagh way.
A throat clears, and we both freeze. I turn to find Legion standing in the doorway, his imposing figure silhouetted against the dim hall light. I scramble out from Bodin and find a sheet to cover my naked body. It’s not fair he sees this when he can’t partake. His vow means so much more now I know why he made it. His dark eyes flick between us, a fleeting look of longing, and then his usual mask of stoic control.
“I hate to interrupt,” he says, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “We have a situation.”
“What’s happened?” Bodin sits up, tensing.
Legion steps further into the room, the shadows seeming to cling to him. “Puck has triggered the countdown to the trials. Willow will forfeit her place if she doesn’t arrive at the arena before sunrise.”
The words hit me like a bucket of water, temporarily dousing the heat. Bodin leaps from the bed, his naked form rippling with barely contained energy as he strides towards Legion.Well-damn,his butt is fine. Two perfect, muscular globes of—I need to nibble.
No. I blink, shaking off my train of thought. It’s time to focus.
