Page 152 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
He smirked. “It’s not too scandalous for a vampire?”
“I’m not only a vampire anymore.”
He leaned forward, his lips brushing her ear, sending dark shivers down her spine. “May I dress you, my queen?”
She nodded and then his hands were on her, loosening her clothes, running over her skin, his claws scraping ever so gently across her entire body. Her dress hit the floor, and he drew her near, fingers twining in her hair as he tugged her into a kiss. She pressed into him, meeting the cool pressure of his mouth against hers with her own heat.
“I want you,” he growled against her lips. “I want you now.”
“But you’re all dressed for the ball.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, reaching for his trousers and dropping them to the floor. “I need you on that bed and my cock inside you.”
Her eyes dropped to between his legs and a smile came to her lips. She extended a finger and ran it up and down his length. “Hard for me already, Zarathos?”
He tugged her close and kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his tail brushing against the inside of her thigh, against the Bloodbound mark that had ignited like wildfire.
He pushed her back onto the bed and she went willingly, letting him drink her in, his eyes glowing with a heat that sent her heart racing. “I’m always hard for you.” He crawled after her, wings spread out behind him, and stared at her, his hair falling on either side. The shadows spiraled around him and she felt them graze along her skin in a cool misty caress, then drifted up her legs and brushed her center. She let out a slight gasp. It was cold, yet gentle, and it swirled at her core in a way that brought out a primal moan.
“The question is, are you ready for me?”
The space between her legs pulsed, an ache building from the anticipation. She wanted him to plunge in and out of her, threading himself into her body. Like the weft being battened down to remain irrevocably in place, he belonged to her forever. “Yes, please, take me.”
And so he did. She arched as he thrust into her, loving how he filled her, how his shadows closed around her so all she could see was the intense light of his gaze, giving herself over to him, to every part of him. She let him take her over and over, both of them tipping over the edge so many times she lost count.
Until a knock came at the door. “Um, Your Majesties? The festivities have begun. The dignitaries are wondering where you are.”
“Tell them to go to hell,” Zarathos snarled.
Aryana reached up and took his face in her hands. “We must go. I promise, you can toy with me all you want after the sun has risen.”
The wildness in his eyes cooled at her touch. He emitted a sigh, but jerked out of her. “We will be there,” he called through the door. “Let me get my wife in a state fit to be seen.”
“You go,” she said, getting up and grabbing the gown off the bed, ignoring the cum pouring down her legs. Shit.
He frowned even as he pulled on his trousers and smoothed his hair, already flawless. “Mils.”
Mils appeared in their bedchamber. She bowed, unruffled as ever, as if Aryana wasn’t standing there naked.
“Draw a quick bath and then help Aryana get ready for the ball. I have to keep our dignitaries from eating each other.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Mils curtsied.
He drew Aryana into one more kiss. “I’m holding you to that promise.”
She grinned. “All day long.”
With a last, longing look, he stepped out the door, then pulled the shadows about him and vanished.
Mils wouldn’t let Aryana leave the room until she was finished. After she was bathed and dressed, she styled her hair so that it hung around Aryana in soft silken waves curling inward so that the tips brushed her arms. A silver and gold tiara sat on her head that matched the accents of her outfit. The gown fit perfectly, embracing her and hanging in gentle undulations down her back.
Her heels clicked against the stone hallway as she walked. Somehow Mils had even talked her into wearing soft silvery jewelry to match. She fingered the bracelet on her arm.
As she approached, the guards opened the doors to a vast hall. Candles floated overhead, casting a ghostly glow on the obsidian walls. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, stretching in pale ribbons across the floor. Demons moved gracefully in darkrobes and gowns, far more refined than anything Aryana had expected.
Gold-tipped horns glinted under the light, and swaths of delicate fabric whispered over the midnight stone.
The entire scene was darkly beautiful, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.
