Page 25 of Blackwarden
I should have had sense enough not to follow, but the heat of his palm against mine only made me crave his hands more. Iallowed him to pull me through the throng of people to another room I’d never noticed before. It was small, intimate, decorated in midnight blue and black. Silks were draped from the low ceiling, trimmed with threads of gold and silver, swaying and glittering as we passed. He sat on a low futon, pulling me toward him. But my hand slipped free, and I stood frozen, gazing at the masterpiece sprawled beneath me.
He was the most gorgeous creature I’d ever seen. Every curve of muscle, every smooth plane of skin honed to perfection. He reclined with one arm tucked behind his head, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. I wanted to run from him and devour him all at once. Part of me screamed that I shouldn’t be here, that I didn’t belong. But another part, a louder far more insistent one, told me to stay. That this moment was made perfectly for me.
“Stay with me, my sweet Rosalin.”
I should have been nervous, at the very least uneasy. Something wasn’t quite right.Thiswasn’t right. I shouldn’t be here. I should have been terrified, I should have said no. But instead, I dropped to my knees, aching to reach for him. To touch him. To feel his hands on my skin.
“What do you desire, Rosalin? What do you want?” he asked, drawing my gaze to his dark eyes, glittering with light from the brazier. Delicate threads of silver wove through his irises, making them shimmer. His stare was unyielding. Deliciously intoxicating in its intensity.
WhatdidI want?
But I already knew. The certainty had been building in me ever since I’d arrived at the Gatehouse. And now he was here, in front of me, inviting me, devouring me with his gaze.
I ached to touch him, to feel the heat of him. It was a need, almost painful in its urgency. I eased closer and his smile deepened as my fingers smoothed over his flawless skin, running my hands over the muscles of his abdomen as he drew circles up my arm. He watched with a growing hunger as my fingers traced lower.
“You have but to ask, and it shall be yours.” His silky voice soaked into my blood, settling deep in my core. I traced my finger along the top of his belt, from one side of his stomach to the other, mesmerized by the way his body moved beneath my touch. I tried to ignore the way the chains draped between his legs, the way his chest tightened with each breath—the way his gaze never wavered from me.
I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I want...” I hesitated, breath shallow as he leaned forward.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. Something wasn’t right.
One of his hands entwined with mine and he pulled me down beside him. Everywhere our skin touched the heat was so intense I looked down. Instead of my dressing gown I wore nothing but a layer of sheer fabric. Every inch of my torso had been painted in black and gold with winged serpents circling my breasts and over my stomach.
I should have been embarrassed. I couldn’t even remember when I’d changed, or who had painted my body. I’d only ever been naked in front of one man, but I couldn’t remember why it mattered. There was only a nagging whisper that I shouldn’t... Keres’ slender fingers slipped under my jaw, and he turned my chin so I faced him before running those same fingers down my throat and between my breasts to my navel. Every muscle in my body tightened at the touch, a burning need uncoiling within me.
“What do you want, Rosalin?”
His hand slipped further down between my legs, pulling the gauzy material up. I tried to focus on what I’d meant to say a moment ago, but there was nothing in my mind but the feel of his fingers as they drew circles over the skin of my inner thigh, his lips gently parted, eyes never leaving mine.
“I want...this,” I whispered. “I want you.” I pushed his hand away and pulled myself up to straddle him.
I’d never been so forward, never in my life had I taken such control of my own pleasure. I didn’t know where I’d found thebravery. I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of his glare. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, not with him, but I couldn’t remember why.
His hands smoothed over my thighs and up my back to pull the gauzy fabric away, exposing me entirely. Goosebumps pebbled my skin as the last physical barrier that held my desire at bay was removed.
“Is this truly what you want?” he asked as he traced his fingers over my breasts, smearing the gold paint in swirls and sending ripples of urgent desire between my legs.
I tried to focus, the word on the tip of my tongue. Was this what I wanted or was this just what my lonely body wanted?
My eyes washed over him. He looked so human.Too human, when I knew he wasn’t. I studied his face. I’d spent enough time staring at him, the shape of his eyes, his slender nose, his decadent lips. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to feel all of him inside me—for our bodies to move as one.
But I was frozen in place.
I shouldn’t want him.
This wasn’t right.
I needed this to not be real.
But his skin was hot beneath me, and I could feel his hands on my breasts, on my arms, on my thighs. His eyes were drunk with wanting as they poured over me. The hard length of him pressed against my entrance.
“You have but to ask...”
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I sat up in bed, my body sweaty and cold at the same time, goosebumps prickling my arms. I couldn’t take deep enough breaths. The heat beneath my skin searing between my legs, almost unbearable with need.
