Page 66 of Antiletum
Val’s fingers at my chin slide down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. They do a slow walk across my collarbone, making me shiver, his face leaning into me. Waiting for me to sell him a lie.
I want to. I want to tell him that I feelnothing. But I can’t force the falsity out of my mouth while my hungry hips tilt forward, just barely, so they brush against his. Val’s cock is shamelessly hard. Thick and heavy between his legs. His eyes cut down to where the hottest places of our bodies draw towards each other, and he smirks.
Because he knows that I want him.
Looking up, the tip of his nose barely bumps the tip of mine. He does it again. Just a little harder.
An invitation to finish what we started before he shifted, showing me exactly who he is.
The brush of skin is soft, barely a whisper. But it’s wonderfully primal and possessive; it sends a shock through my entire being, shaking my world. Forcing me awake. Bringing me to life. I’ve never been so aware of all the sights and sounds and smells around me, reminding me of the intensity of my wedding ritual. And just the same—all my focus is pinpointed on the man in front of me. The only thing in existence. Where his nose touches mine.
How badly I want to hate him. And at the exact same time, I just can’t make myself commit to that loathing.
I should push him away. Iwantto push him away. But rising above my hurt and anguish and my utter rage directed towards Valledyn is the tugging pull of his magnetism. The headiness of undeniable desire between us. The promise of magic.
That yank has increased tenfold since he shifted in front of me, revealing his truth and calling to a deep rooted part of me that sees him asmine.
Our necromancy is buzzing and loud, the hum of magic lifting from every particle of dust, every spoiled piece of food, every half decayed carcass rotting in the streets and sewers—all across the city.
I moan, leaning into Val ever so slightly, the hairs on my arms lifting like they’re being pulled by a ventriloquist, controlling my actions. My hot mouth draws towards his, lips barely parting.
Val takes it as an invitation. He growls, “Yes,” and snakes his hand through my hair at the nape of my neck, his other gripping my hip.
Both of us work to cover that last bit of distance between our waiting mouths, lips meeting in the softest, sweetest kiss. Achingly tender. Slow and tentative amidst this unstable want firing between us. Potent, hot, and rife with pressure. I think I might explode, and if I do, I am taking him with me.
Another gentle press of mouths, promising so much more. And then another.
His lips are warm, plump, and utterly biteable, so I do just that. I let Val’s lip slip between my teeth, catching on one of the hoops in his flesh, andtug.He moans. Soft and masculine and painfully longing. My hands get lost in his dark hair. Soft as spidersilk. Spun just for me.
Our kisses become more frantic, hungry, harsh. Steeped in passion. Our lips move together seamlessly. Naturally. Knowing every single angle and motion, meeting each other in stride. As if we’ve done this a thousand times. As if this is all we’re meant to do.
Anddeos,we are good at it together.
Val’s head turns to the side, hand at my hip roaming slow up my body, mapping the path over my ribs and letting the pads of his fingers plink over each one. Brushing past the edge of my breast in a teasingmotion. Landing to cup and stroke my cheek like it’s all that’s precious and treasured in the world.
In glorious contrast, Val’s fingers weaved in my hair pull—so deliciously hard it threatens to sting. A pain that I crave, but only ever by his hands. Because deep down, I know I’m in no danger from him. At least not my body.
Not that I’d ever say it out loud.
Heat blooms in my stomach with the way Val subtly guides my head, telling me what he wants. Directing me with possessive force. I open my mouth to let him in, panting and hungry. Hotter. More pliant.
I might just melt in his hands. Because I know that he will catch me. Never let me fall.
Val groans, low and drenched in desire and relief. It vibrates in my throat, calling it home. His tongue sweeps against mine; I give him mine right back. He tastes like clean spice and absoluteman. His scent is woodsy, musky, backlit by the mouthwatering, subtle tones of his sweat.
Virile.
A whiny little whimper mewls from my throat, a needy thing I’ve never, ever made before. I like the way it sounds, so I do it again, pulling my husband closer into my body.
“Delaney,” Val barely whispers, struggling to keep caressing my mouth while he whispers his reverent prayer.
I wrap my arms around his back, mangled flesh puckered against my palm from a wound long since healed. It releases something fierce in me. Protective and angry. I want to find whoever put that hole in his body and give them a thousand to match until they bleed out in my palms. Present him with the blood I drew for him.
There’s a snap between us, my husband and I—invisible but felt. Mighty like the wind.
It’s not a conscious thought, bringing our magic together. Letting the pieces of us that reach for death meld into one and burst from our skin, clinging to each other tighter. I fit into Val as if being against his body is the only place I was ever meant to be. Like we aren’t complete unless we’re like this. Together and touching.
My hands stroke through my husband’s hair then travel back down to his chest. Unsure of where I want to touch him most, but always keeping him close.
