Page 114 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
Wanting to taste it as I saw the burning lavender of my eyes reflected in the endless dark of his own. My neck arching back so his lips could find my pulse. To taste the passionof it before he rested his forehead there, so I could feel the harsh labour of his breath brush my breast as more of those dark words fell from his lips in some form of adoration.
‘Emrys,’ I half begged and, as if knowing every inch of my body, his hand slid between us. Right to where I needed. The cold bite of his magic demanding my pleasure from me.
Everything in me seemed to tense, seizing as my nails dug deep into his shoulder and back. My breath caught as ecstasy rushed through me. My body too tight and tense and loose all at the same time. Emrys felt it. A curse slipping helplessly from his lips was my undoing as he watched every inch of me devour that pleasure he’d given.
Then I was on my back. He didn’t stop, drawing it out of me. My fingers digging greedily into the powerful contours of his back.
I was done and yet, I still urged my hips up for him. Still offered myself to more of that pleasure. Wanton, just as the stories said, and I didn’t care. Not here.
Such dark and unknown words he whispered against my lips. Yet I knew all of them were nothing but complete devotion as I panted for breath, waves of it still remaining. As he took his fill of me until his own breaths were shuttered against my breastbone with his release. My fingers curling in his damp hair as I struggled to catch my breath.
‘You’ll be the death of me.’ He huffed those words against the curve of my breast.
I smiled deviously at the victory of it despite how spent I was. How breathless. Fingers running across his lips. ‘My poor lord.’
‘Yours,’ he offered darkly, nipping at my fingers, and perhaps it was the Kysillian in me that preened at the battle won.
‘Mine,’ I answered and he kissed me again.
His finger traced the curve of my ear and the pointed tip as I found myself wrapped in his strong arms, my legs tangled with his own, as the exhausting weight of everything finally caught up with me. As I tucked my face against the curve of his neck and dragged in that forbidden scent of him. Felt the racing of his pulse settle along with my own.
His fingers moved through my hair, so gently. Combing through all the tangles I was certain he’d made.
His lips traced the arc of my shoulder to my throat, right over the scar caused by the galmoth’s bite with such soft reverence that emotion clogged in my throat and his knuckles dragged up the curve of my thigh. Over the skin of my backside and to my waist. Right over the scarred skin of my back.
Every inch of me. He wanted every piece. Even marked and forbidden.
I tipped my head to see him. It was different now. In the aftermath of everything.
How his dark hair fell onto his brow, the softness of his satisfied smile, the transparent silver of his eyes as he took me in.
I eyed the red marks on his forearms, the indentation of my teeth and nails in his shoulder. How in disarray he was. Then I realised I didn’t fully understand my own strength.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ My sanity returned as my desire cooled.
His laugh was choked. Something so content in his smile. ‘You drove me to madness, Croinn, but you didn’t hurt me.’
I bit my lip, wondering if he was trying to spare me the embarrassment. I’d pinned him to the floor and had my way with him. The soreness between my legs evidence of it. ‘It wasn’t very …demure.’
No. I hadn’t lain shyly as the Institute girls whispered that you should. The stories of wanton fey coming to haunt me.
As if sensing that flicker of shame, Emrys caught my chin. The sheer size of him caged over me in a moment, such protective focus, as if he didn’t wish for me to miss a single word.
‘Watching you demand your pleasure is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Kat.’ He smiled, so satisfied and boyish it made my heart flip within my chest.
He kissed my hair, his fingers running through it. Spent and relaxed in his arms, my palm still resting over the mark over his heart, as I drifted to sleep. Only two words found me in my slumber.
Serus.
Mine.
Chapter Thirty
Kat
Never take their beliefs as your own, Tauria. Not until you see with your own eyes where it could lead you.
Even Kysillia’s stories can be twisted for them to gain power from your ignorance. In that devout blindness, you lose something you can never get back … your morality.
