Page 41 of Of Blood and Fire
He broke away and trailed kisses down my neck, my shoulders. I shivered in delight, but it wasn’t what I wanted, wasn’t what I needed. Maybe later, but right now, I needed him in me, claiming me in the most basic way possible.
My fingers found the lacings on his pants; I quickly undid them, then pushed them down his hips to free his cock. He made a low sound deep in his throat, then gripped my butt and lifted me up and onto him. My back hit the wall; the stone was smooth but icy against the heat burning across my bare skin, but I barely even felt it. I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him closer, drove him deeper, his thick hardness stretching me, completing me in a way no other man ever had.
Lust, raw and unbridled, ran around us, through us, but for several seconds, neither of us moved. We simply stared into each other’s eyes, acknowledging what lay unsaid between us, at least on my part.
Then he made a low, desperate sound and began to thrust, every movement hard and fast. Shudders of delight rolled across my entire body, a wave that increased in ferocity with every beat, with every stroke. I tightened my grip on him, riding him fiercely, desperately, wantonly. Lust and desire and need spiraled between us, burning the air and filling every breath. The deep-down ache rose sharply; I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything more than close my eyes and chase that moment of utter perfection to its glorious end.
My orgasm hit hard and fast, and I was shuddering, gasping, moaning. He came a heartbeat later, the deep groan torn from his lips echoing mine as his body stiffened against mine and his seed exploded within.
As the high ebbed, I rested my forehead against his, letting our breaths mingle, aware that neither his desire nor mine had fully abated.
Once my breathing had eased to a more normal level, I couldn’t help but ask, “Did youreallyfall in love with me the minute you saw me?”
He laughed, kissed me long and tenderly, and then gently lowered me to the ground. “You were fierce, independent, and dangerous, and very obviously hated my father. How could I not?”
There was a part of me wanting to dance in happiness and admit that the feeling was mutual, but there was an even bigger part that was simply afraid to. Maybe it was foolish to think that such an admission would change whatever plans Túxn might have for us, but I wasn’t about to tempt her, especially given how many favors she’d already thrown our way. Which didn’t mean for one second that I wouldn’t show my feelings in every other way, but I’d already glimpsed what my life would be like if he was taken from me, and I really didn’t want to face that again.
Of course, refusing to verbally acknowledge my feelings would not, in any way, ease that utter devastation, but I just wanted something to give him once we’d fought our way through the darkness that lay ahead.
Was that stupid? Possibly. But I had a feeling Mom would have understood, even if she’d have also advised not to hold back.
But she wasn’t here... and never would be, ever again....
I blinked against the sting of tears and briefly lowered my gaze. “I obviously need to work on my game face if you saw said hatred so easily.”
“You forget that we are attuned to each other. I saw what few others could or would.” He hesitated, lightly raising my chin, then dropped a gentle kiss on my lips. “Iamreally sorry about your parents, Bryn. I wish I could have been here for you.”
I sighed. “I do understand your reasons, Damon, even if your refusal to confide in me continues to rankle.”
“And if I promise a future containing no more lies and secrets?”
“Then I might see my way to forgiving you.”
“Might?” he mused, eyebrows raised and amusement lurking in his expression. “What else can I do to ensure forgiveness?”
I hesitated. “Move here to Esan? I know it’s a long way from Angola, but my life?—”
“Not to mention your crown and your drakkon,” he cut in, amused.
“It’s not my crown. Not anymore,” I said. “Garran’s alive, Damon. It’s why your brother risked using Makki to break into my suite tonight.”
And it’s probably how they intended to get rid of Garran once they’d “sorted” the whole problem of my marriage to my fake husband not being consummated.
Damon touched my arm, his fingers oh-so-warm against my skin. “I’m glad he survived, Bryn, but where in Vahree’s name has he been this last week? Why could no one contact him?”
“He was held prisoner. The gilded mages apparently round up the most resilient fighters to use in their blood ceremonies.”
“Then how did he escape? I take it he’s here in Esan?”
I nodded. “Under heavy guard in the royal suite. Kele and I found him when we flew out to investigate another fog patch.”
“He remains in Túxn’s good graces, obviously.” He brushed the lightest kiss across my lips. “And to answer your question, my life and my home are wherever you are.”
“But what of Angola? I know you love that place?—”
“I do,” he said softly. “It was my salvation and my place of peace before my father hatched his plans for me to step into my brother’s shoes. My mother’s kin are there, and perhaps our children will need to go there if any show signs of inheriting my magic, but I am more than happy to build a life here with you and your drakkons.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, once again blinking back foolish tears, this time of happiness rather than grief. I hesitated, then added softly, “Where was he holding your mom and sisters prisoner? How did you get them out?”
