Page 35 of Immortal Sins
A bed towers in the middle of the room—twice the size of a king—and clearly meant for more than two people at a time. Rows and rows of books are tucked into the built-in design of the headboard. A series of windows offers a jaw-dropping view of the city.
The wretched aftertaste of magic in my mouth is too potent for me to think straight, and I’m 95% sure I got hit by a spell while I was in the throne room.
Cole grabs the knot between my breasts and wrenches me to him. “I’ll help you change.”
He digs his fingers into my waist, but I press hard on his chest. “Cole. Stop.” My eyes remain glued to the floor, because I still can’t bear to look at him. A heavy lump solidifies in my belly.
Cole skims my bare stomach before letting his hands fall at his side.
Allie’s cruel jab echoes in my heart.A Fae prince might want to fuck you now…
I cannot give Cole the passionate reunion he so clearly desires. With a shaky hand, I grab my throat.
“Look at me.” Cole reaches for my hand. “Jules, look at me.”
I finally obey. He’s standing inches from me, far enough to give me a bit of space, but close enough not to leave me exposed. From this angle, he looks a bit more like the Cole I used to know. I wish his familiar dimple was deep enough to bury all my ghosts.
He presses my palm flat over his heart. “Feel that rhythm?” His heart beats furiously beneath my fingers. “It’s all you. I’ve plotted ways to break into Dark Falls and researched spells to draw you here. I’ve been…drunk with thoughts of you.”
He cradles the side of my face. “Let’s get you out of these stupid clothes.” He arches a brow, waiting for my answer.
A minute ago, I felt empty. Insignificant.
I loathe the Fae for their customs and snobbery. I despise that their magic makes me question my self-worth. I hate how Cole transforms my mood with one lazy smile.
My throat bobs, but I nod and close the distance between us. Cole’s taste—peaches and wine—knocks me back to reality, eroding whatever spell affected me before. He dismantles the satin knot and tosses the ribbon aside with a flick of the wrist. Flames rise from my skin to ravage what’s left of the uniform. The embers crumble at our feet.
Cole’s pupils dilate into two bottomless pools. The undertow of his next kiss causes me to stagger backwards, and my feet struggle to keep me standing.
He caresses a sweet, treacherous spot at the nape of my neck.
“I missed you,” I whisper, the words so foreign and yet so right.
He grazes my shoulder with his teeth.
My doubts, my fears…the demons that reared their heads and chased us inside this room have vanished. Nothing else matters.
Cole fumbles with the intricate buttons of his jacket and shrugs it off. I stretch the neckline of his undershirt and wrangle it past his head. The smooth skin beneath gives me pause—sun-kissed by a different sun. A Faerie sun. The unearthly tan gleams, interrupted only by his tattoos. The black ink undulates like a liquid, bottomless shadow as he discards his pants. “I’m dying to be inside you, Fire Girl. You game?”
“Yes!” I want it bad enough to set the world ablaze.
Heat swells in my chest and ears, and I bite his neck, hard enough for it to leave a mark. He squeezes my ass and lifts me up.
Despite the proof of his riches, the grandeur of his bedroom, and the glow of his skin, when he’s naked and hard for no one but me, I can almost believe we’re the same.
“Enough!” Celeste Draco sneers from the doorway, and her deafening command echoes across the room.
Cole gently slides me off of him. He plucks his discarded jacket off the floor and wraps it around my frame. The hem falls above my knees, and I hold it closed.
Peaches and sin linger on my tongue.
Celeste points her gloved finger in my direction. “She is not welcome here.”
Undisturbed by his nakedness, Cole places himself between us. “Julia Winslow is under my protection.”
“We’re at war, son.” Celeste turns her attention to the head of the humongous bed. Her jewelled, midnight-blue skirt screeches against the marble as she glides closer to it. “We cannot waste our time on a mortal. Besides, we have no right to keep her. She’s an earthling.”
She grazes the books tucked in the headboard like she’s perusing the stacks for a creepy bedtime story. “Osbourne has already written to me. He knew the witch would end up here. We negotiated an exchange.” Her sugary tone chips away every last shred of dignity left in me.
