Page 98 of The Iron Dagger
“He already knows who I am, who my mother is,” she said, turning away. “I think he has from the moment he saw me. Apparently, we look alike.”
“Oh,” he said, confused at her lingering anger. It felt as though he were her enemy, which he did not like at all. Had he not proven his loyalty to her by now? Perhaps she still needed to be convinced. “He also knows that I am helping you. Hethreatened my life if he saw that we were conspiring together to reveal his secrets to the leaders of Norwen and Lenwen.”
“Secrets like sowing strife and creating discord between the realms?” she said scathingly, and then Gideon understood.
“You read some of my reports.”
“I did. They reminded me of who you really are. You’re your father’s dog.”
Her anger was catching. Gideon felt a flare of it lick at his insides.
“Without me being his dog in Norwen, you’d never have left that shit-stinking village to learn about the fate of your mother. You needed me to convince you, if you recall.”
“Don’t you hold that over me. It’s thanks to your father that we were separated to begin with.” She had risen on her knees and leaned forward so that she could shove against his chest with one hand. The cat darted away, disappearing into the shadows.
“And I’m trying to help you!” he almost shouted, leaning in closer, daring her to shove him again.
“A fine job you’ve done. Now we’re both on the run and your father is making death threats to you for helping me.”
“If you had just kept your head down and not meddled in alchemy, he wouldn’t have nearly as much interest in you. But you somehow found a way to reveal that you make gold,” he said, throwing up his hands. “There aren’t enough well-laid plans or influence in the world to protect you from yourself. You’re I, careless—”
Hara let out a short huff of laughter and shoved him again. This time, he caught her hands.
“Go on,” she said harshly. “What else?”
“I’m not doing this.”
She made an incensed sound that resembled a scoff. “Why? Have you grown a conscience?”
Her angry mouth was so close to his, and he could not go on telling her all of her faults because he loved them just as much as he loved her kindness, her quiet confidence, and her need to do the right thing.
He leaned down and kissed her, hard, an angry kiss. She struggled, and one of her hands broke free. She clawed at his face, but he gripped hers back, taking hold of her jaw and opening her mouth to him.
Then he felt her tongue against his, and she clutched the front of his wet shirt. She let out a soft whimper before her hands snaked around to grip his hair, holding him close and deepening the kiss. Her back arched, making her breasts plump against his chest.
He was no longer shivering from the rain as she tore at his wet clothes, his rain cloak falling to the ground and his shirt pulled over his head. She wore a shapeless nightdress that bunched easily in his hands, and they shuffled and staggered until he had her backed against the stone wall.
He yanked the shift off of her shoulder, seams straining until they tore under his fevered grip, and he clasped his mouth over her peaked breast. Her flesh was so warm and silky under his tongue, filling his mouth, and he licked and suckled at her until her breaths were short, helpless pants.
There was barely enough room to stand, but he lifted her up by the legs and sat her on the ledge next to her lamp, knocking it over in the process. He had to bend his neck to stand upright, but his discomfort was forgotten as she unbuttoned his trousers and released his aching cock. He roughly pulled her skirt aside, and when he plunged into her, she made a desperate cry into his neck. He made a short sound in answer, a fierce surge of desire rearing up as he felt how irresistibly hot and wet she was.
If he lived a hundred years, he would never tire of the way his hips sank into her soft thighs, the way every part of her seemed to give way to him in welcome. She wrapped around him tightly as he stretched her with each push. He freed one hand from her luscious thighs to cradle her still-covered breast, her nipple stiff under the thick fabric. He rubbed over it with his thumb and he felt her squeeze his cock in response. He had never craved anyone this fiercely.
“I need you, Hara,” he panted. “I’ll spend every day proving to you that I’m better, that I’m good enough for you.”
“You’re an idiot. Stop talking,” she said breathily, and his cock grew impossibly harder.
“Fuck,” he groaned, catching her lips again. Her scolding would be the death of him. He began rocking her, almost bouncing her, up and down against the wall. His breaths were harsh and ragged, and he muffled his deep moans by biting the soft skin between her neck and shoulder. Hara had grown so wet that he was able to slide deeply inside with every movement. She gripped him hard with her inner muscles, and he let out a rough gasp against her skin.
“Oh hell, you wicked girl.” He hoisted her up further, making his hold more secure on her thighs.
“Gideon, I want . . .” she started, gripping his shoulders.
Anything, he would give her anything. “You want?”
“I want you to take me from behind,” she managed, and the vision of Hara bending over for him almost caused him to lose control. He set her back on her feet, and she arranged herself on her elbows and knees, putting herself on glorious display. All for him. The lamp on the ground showed every round curve, every blushed mark where his fingers had gripped, and for the first time, he noticed she was wearing stockings.
He groaned. It was his fantasy come true.
