Page 11 of Tipped in Frost and Blood
5
DAMIEN
The wood floor creaked as I stepped out of the shadows and into the foyer. At nearly three in the morning, Cassie was likely asleep. At least, I hoped she had managed to find rest. I hated how little she’d gotten in the recent weeks. Some nights I emerged from the void to hear the thunder of her footsteps as she hurried to greet me. I couldn’t deny it was the welcome I’d wanted for decades.
A hollowness crept into my chest at the silence that greeted me instead. I shouldn’t be disappointed to not hear her voice calling from somewhere in the house.
She was human. She needed rest far more than our kind did.
Worry for my safety during patrols kept her up most nights since she had moved in a few weeks ago, and when she did find rest, the nightmares tormented what little sleep she got. I preferred the nights when she was so exhausted from training, sleep claimed her in such a tight grip that she couldn’t remember her dreams when she awoke, feeling rested.
Sadly, those nights were few and far between.
I knew she suffered more than she let on, tried to hide the brunt of it. The sight of her awaking in a panic each time—the look of horror on her face before she realized where she was—it was all too familiar to how Lucia looked when she awoke from her nightmares of what she’d endured before I found her again. My hands tightened into fists at the memory of it. I hated that I’d been as helpless then as I was now.
Cassie tried to hide it, drowning it out with training and learning how to wield her magic, but I knew the memories haunted her. I hated it. I hoped the celebrations we had in store for her might lift her spirits, help her feel more at home here.
I carefully trekked up the stairs, eager for a hot shower to get the oily feeling of darkling blood and sweat from tonight’s hunt off me. The buckles clinked as I began undoing the harness securing my throwing knives to my chest, and I carefully nudged our bedroom door open.
My heart swelled as I found her laid out on the blankets on her stomach, face resting atop her folded arm, her book laid open in front of her. A mix of our scents filled the room, and my heart skipped a beat at the rightness of it. The blend of jasmine and cedarwood settled a resounding calm over my body.
With each year that passed after her death, every piece of her had started to vanish one by one: how she smelled, how she felt against my skin.
It hit me hard when I forgot the sound of her voice.
I’d barely been able to keep my hands off her over the last few weeks, stealing her away every chance I got. In the mornings when I’d awake to her leg draped over my thigh, her head tucked against the crook of my neck, we’d end up tangled up in each other. During our training sessions, when we found ourselves alone, I couldn’t resist the sight of her body slick with sweat as she sparred with me, the fire in her eyes when she became bound and determined to knock me on my ass. The first time she managed to take me down, I took her on that mat, feeling her come undone as she rode my cock. I’d even pulled her aside after one of our meetings at The Complex, too impatient to wait until we got home to feel her skin against mine. The intense urge to mark her in any way I could had been too unbearable.
Fuck.The thoughts alone had the all-consuming need rising again.
I stopped at the edge of the bed, taking in the sweet sound of each gentle, even breath she took. My eyes fell on her open book, her finger resting delicately atop the dip in the pages where she’d held it open as she read. What story dragged her from the pit of fear and worry? Perhaps I could find more like it. I couldn’t fight the curiosity and slid the book from under her hand, taking a peek at what she was reading.
There was no fighting the grin tugging at my lips as I scanned the beginning of a detailed scene between lovers on the pages. I knew she enjoyed romance, but this…
I slid the bookmark into place and closed the book before setting it atop the bed. My eyes fell closed as I drew a deep breath, her scent filling my lungs and—
My fangs throbbed, threatening to unsheathe, and my gaze snapped down to her as the faint sweet scent of her arousal coated my lungs. This didn’t seem to have been the only scene with this level of detail she’d read tonight.
No.She needed rest. I’d fed from her just a few days ago, had kept her up just the night before, our need for each other too much to resist.
A soft sound escaped her lips in her sleep, and the sheets whispered as she turned onto her side and... Gods, the shirt she wore—myshirt—rose enough to share a glimpse of her lace underwear, the curve of her ass peeking from beneath the hem, the juncture between those creamy thighs—
My hands balled into fists as I pushed past every instinct driving me to take her as my cock punched against my zipper. I fought the urge to crawl over her, spread her legs, and wake her up in the best ways possible.
One night. I could go one night without feeling her body around mine. I turned, making a hasty retreat to the bathroom before I caved.
Steam filled the bathroom as I braced myself against the black tile, letting the shower wash away the blood, the ick, the sweat. My gaze fell to my cock, still hard for her, still throbbing and desperate to be inside her.
“Fuck,” I sighed. The mating bond was nearly impossible to fight. It made a male an absolute slave to his female, craving her blood, her affection, her body, every ounce of her very being. For the past few weeks, the bond had resurfaced nearly as intensely as the first time I’d felt it. She seemed to feel it as well, her scent flooding the room at the mere sight of me at times.
My eyes slid closed as I imagined her wrapping my hand around the base of my cock, the damned thing throbbing as I imagined the feel of her hands on me, her mouth, the sound of her shallow breaths and moans each time I took her. Images of her danced across my thoughts, of every curve of her body, the swell of her breasts, the caress of her breath against my skin.
Gods, my imagination got the best of me, so much so that I could almost smell her. I planted a hand against the wall as I worked myself in slow strokes and frowned as her scent of jasmine and citrus cut through the steam of the shower, growing stronger still.
Soft hands slid around my waist, and my cock twitched in my grasp. Her delicate fingertips followed every dip and swell of muscle down my stomach, and I shuddered. I made to turn toward her, but she pressed against my back, her breasts soft against me and Gods, I wanted a taste of her creamy skin.
“Mea luna,” I breathed, a grin curving my lips. “It’s unwise to sneak up on a warrior.”
She didn’t speak, one of her hands moving up my chest while the other glided south, lower and lower, until her fingertip brushed the tip of my cock.
