Page 72 of Artemysia
“You’re—you’re saying I’m an idealistic moron,” I blubber. “Some of the colonels would agree—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “But then…you make those damned wishes come true.” He pauses to take a jagged breath. “So don’t you dare start screaming in the dark with me. Keep wishing. Keep being yourself. Keep being the hope and beauty in the world, Elphie. Everything you do is for others. Individuals matter to you. You see the good in each and every person.”
His celestial eyes latch onto mine. He’s as utterly defeated as any man could be. “But please, see me for who I am. The dirt, the ugly. I’m sorry.”
He truly believes what he says, and it breaks me apart.
“You’re not ugly.” I sniff pathetically. “You say you’re handsome all the time.”
“The truth is…” His tone softens. “You could’ve died, and I wanted you to leave me there and ride to safety. It terrified me when you got back on my elk and came for me. It terrified me more than anything else that’s happened to me in my life—the thought of you dying on my account. I’m not worth someone else’s life; I’m not worthyourlife.” His eyes darken, endless inky pools in the smoky gray.
When he looks at me like this, I feel as if I may ignite in flames.
All-consuming. Intense. Vulnerable.
A pulse of silence lingers between us.
My heart pounds from grief, anger, my confession of fear, my roiling emotions.
He feels the same. I can see it in his rapidly rising chest, his pinched brows over his unblinking eyes.
“You’re no less worthy than anyone else,” I whisper through the salty tears trickling over my lips.
His chest heaves unevenly, and with a sudden move, he grips my chin roughly in his broad palm. For some reason, this simple motion spears a wash of heat from where he touches my jaw, down my neck to my breasts, ending in a coiling warmth in my lower belly.
I’m lured in by his fingertips, and when I shut my eyes, the shadows of the orange flames beside us flicker on the backs of my eyelids.
He kisses the tears off my cheeks one by one, and suddenly hismouth slams into mine.
He kisses me, not in the gentle way his lips ghosted against my face to steal my tears away, but in a greedy reaping of dark desires.
I reciprocate, my tongue flicking his as my hands drape around his neck. I curve into him, my breasts aching as I feel the heat of his torso—his own chest straining under my touch.
When I murmur into his mouth, “Touch me, Riev,” he doesn’t hesitate.
He relieves my ache as his thumbs flick over my taut nipples, pinching and rolling them through my cotton shirt, sending sparks through my core, ending between my thighs. A soft moan escapes my lips as I soak in the strong juniper scent of him, mixed with blood and sweat.
“Give me more,” I demand.
He unzips the front of my pants and slips past my underwear, past the light dusting of hair, and uses a palm to cup the slickness building there. Gently grazing a finger between my legs, he inhales sharply. “How are you so damn wet already? Is it the fighting? The arguing?”
I choke down a laugh as he captures my mouth against his in a frenzied kiss. His lips taste like blood. Salty and desperate. He must be in pain from the cut on his head, but he doesn’t show it. I love how real our kiss tastes: of battle, of heartbreak, of tears and pain, but also of hope and passion.
My hands work to unbuckle his belt and untie his pants, my lustful needs unfolding as quickly as my body flushes hot with thrilling heat when I feel the steely length of his erection in my hands.
He’s silky, hard, and—
My fingers run over two smooth, low ridges ringing his shaft partway down and another larger, bulged ridge near the base. I pull away from his mouth and work his pants down his hips to see what I’m touching.
I glance up at him, questioning. Partially questioning myself, too, as to why merely looking at extra bands of width and texture would turn me on even more.
“I don’t know if it’s because I’m only maybe half…human.” His mouth is downturned with uncertainty, and it’s entirely endearing. “The ridges are where I widen when I’m about to come. It’s okay if you don’t want to touch me—” He swallows down his hoarse voice and looks away, his cheeks reddening.
Even more girth? Good gods.A flare of heat spreads in my belly.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathe. He’s larger than anyone I’ve ever touched, and the enthralling thought of those bulges stretching me from the inside ratchets up the desperate ache between my legs.
His dark lashes drop thickly as he watches me spring him out the rest of the way over his underwear. He groans as I stroke his velvety length, closing his eyes in what seems like the torment of lust.
