Page 113 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
It was impossible. Yet I allowed those words to fill part of that hollow place inside of me as I leant into his touch, pressing myself into his waiting arms like it was the most natural thing in the world to curve my hands around his back. To feel the powerful strength of him beneath the cotton of his shirt, relishing the firm strength of his arms around me in that forbidden embrace.
‘Tauria,’ he whispered into my hair and I felt that word resonate in my soul. My name. My magic flared in response, raising on command from his lips. Seeking its own truth.
‘Tauria died a long time ago,’ I spoke quietly against his shoulder, afraid of my own voice. She died on a stormy nightwith her mother. Consumed by the fire and ash. Carried away on a storm wind.
‘Impossible.’ He shook his head, pulling back so I could see the dark hair fall onto his brow. ‘She’s before me, as unattainable to me as she was to mortal men.’
I felt the caress of his magic as it washed over me, chilling the potency of my own, matching it so it didn’t have to be afraid anymore.
‘Starlight,’ he whispered against the curve of my cheek, breath sweet from the brandy. ‘Chaos of the heavens.’
‘Emrys,’ I warned, my voice trembling slightly with anticipation.
‘The perfect revenge.’ A sadness tinged his response, as my heart stuttered in my chest. ‘What a wicked thing you’ve done, Kat. To make it so I only dream of you.’
Then he kissed me softly, as if concerned it would scare me away. His other hand dropping to my waist, curling me closer to him. Patient and waiting.
I’d been kissed before, once by a messenger boy behind the hay shed, but it wasn’t like this. Not with this impossible longing.
It wasn’t quick and cautious as if fulfilling some dare. No, he kissed me desperately like he never wished to stop. A depth to it that felt endless.
As if he could press secrets against my lips.
My fingers curled into his shirt. Needing the delicious press of the hardness of his body against me. The demanding power of his magic swept over my skin with the gentle caution of a lover’s caress.
My hands dragged upwards over his powerful chest, melting into the firm nature of his touch. I savoured the tightness of his hold, the soft moan that left him as he nipped gently atmy bottom lip, commanding me to open my mouth, and then his tongue followed.
My fingers slid into the thick softness of his hair, devouring him with the same intensity. He dragged me closer, hands clutching at the fabric of my robe like he could tear it from me. I wished he would.
My skin was too tight. Needing more attention from him. Needing him. Wanting to be needed like this.
I arched into him, wanting something I didn’t fully understand as his lips ran along my jaw and down the line of my throat, nipping at my pulse. Tasting the wildness of it against his lips.
My hand slid beneath his shirt, feeling the warm hardness of his skin. The uneven texture of the scars there, my fingers heating with my magic, hungry to experience the madness of him too. His hands captured my face, pulling back for the barest moment so I could see the bright violet of my eyes reflected in the endless dark of his.
His thumb traced my bottom lip, swollen from his kisses, before he leant in again, softly. Slowing our pace once more, delicately savouring every moment of it. Kissing my mouth from one corner to the other, fingers tangled in the heavy fall of my hair.
Desire coiled low in my abdomen at the warm hardness of him through the thin fabric of my nightgown where my robe had slipped open.
My fingers dragged down his front, feeling the tension in each muscle all the way to the waistband of his trousers. The evidence of his passion for me.
‘Emrys,’ I whispered against his lips, begging weakly for more.
Only for the sound to freeze him in place, dousing us both in the icy realisation of what we were doing.
He pulled himself harshly back from me, breath unsteady. My cheeks heated with shame as I settled back into reality, instantly fixing my slipping robe with numb fingers as he turned his back.
A tension across his shoulders as he straightened his shirt. ‘I’m sorry, Kat.’
Of course.
He’d been drinking and I’d been a fool to think any of it had been real. The words left a hollowness I’d never felt before, different to all the others, chasing away any warmth I’d gained in his arms.
Unwanted. Yet, in a different, more brutal way as he moved to the fire across the room.
Stupid, ugly troll.
‘You should go,’ he said coldly. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. ‘The Council put boundaries between—’
