Page 100 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Fortunately, she hadn’t.
Her cheeks were flushed now, her gaze limpid, as he lay her down amongst the furs.
Alar’s gut twisted, hunger spiking through him. He’d thought their wild tumble might have sated his appetite for his wife, but it had merely stoked it. He’d been tired earlier, his body aching after the clash with the Fuath, but now he felt as if he could go all night.
And he would.
He’d greedily take all this woman gave him. He’d then store it away and keep it for the dark days ahead, when he’d need reminding that beauty and light did exist in this twisted world. He kissed her then, tenderly now, heat igniting in his veins when she responded eagerly.
Lara’s hunger for him, her lustiness, drove him insane. It was impossible to think straight when she fixed that luminous pine-green gaze upon him.
Idiot,a voice growled at the back of his mind—one that reminded him of Lyall—what the fuck are you doing?
Aye, indeed. He’d set himself strict rules since wedding the High Queen of Albia, but he’d broken every one of them.
He was supposed to remain detached, to bed her only when necessary.
He wasn’t supposed to care.
Pull back. Now.
But he couldn’t. The feel of Lara, pliant and wanting, in his arms, the sweet taste of her mouth, and the warmth and softness of her body, was a drug. He was nearly three times her age and had weathered much in his decades alive, but he’d never met anyone who made him see his existence for what it really was. Austere. Lonely.
He’d thought he was nothing but a bitter husk, but he’d been wrong. The lad he’d once been was still there, buried under layers of armor.
Driving all thoughts from his mind, he continued to kiss Lara, taking his time now. Their first coupling had been frenzied. He’d been rougher than intended, yet she’d welcomed it, matched every thrust as she ground herself against him.
Exploring her body again now, he committed every curve, every smooth plane and angle to memory. She sighed and undulated under his touch, and he reveled in how responsive she was, how her fingers tangled in his hair when he suckled her breasts, and when he spread her legs and feasted on her.
Lara’s gasps and throaty moans made him sweat.
He rolled her over then so that she lay on her belly upon the soft furs, propping herself up on her elbows. Covering her body with his, he spread her legs once more and entered her, gently, while his hand slid between her body and the furs and found her slick heat. He stroked and circled as he moved inside her, thrilling at the way she trembled against him, how her breathing caught, how she moaned his name.
She was close now, and he could feel his own climax gathering too. Heat ignited at the base of his spine. His self-control started to fray.
His eyelids fluttered then. He’d never forget tonight.
“Alar,” she groaned his name, drawing it out like a prayer.
“My Queen,” he whispered back as his sweat-slick body slid against hers. He held himself up with one elbow, his lips dragging along the soft line of her neck. This position was intimate, protective almost. She turned her head to him, and he grazed the column of her throat with his teeth before nipping.
She gave a choked cry then, and wetness flooded over his fingers as he continued to stroke her. “Aye, that’s it, mo rùin,” he rasped. “Give yourself to me.”
My secret … my beloved. That was what she was. His one weakness.
Her sharp cry tore through the tent, her body trembling. She writhed against him, yet he held her fast. Around them, the firelight roared. Alar barely noticed. He rode her hard now, grinding deep with each thrust. And then, his self-control unraveled. Giving in to wildness, he sank his teeth into Lara’s smooth shoulder. She groaned, shuddering against him as he held her fast and drove into her again and again.
She sobbed his name once more, her quim clutching at him mercilessly now.
It was too much. He wasn’t made of stone.
An instant later, he let go.
“Our names are similar … did you realize that?”
Alar’s eyes flickered open, a half-smile playing upon his lips. “No … how so?”
“They have the same sounds.” Propping herself up onto an elbow, Lara looked down at him. The soft light inside the tent—for the cressets had died and the brazier had burned down to mere embers—caressed his proud features.
