Page 92 of Lost in the Dark

“Anna,please.” He gripped the bedframe and tried to rise from the bed, but his arms gave out and he sagged back. His gorgeous, extraordinary hands curled into fists. “I cannot strike him down. I’mbound—to him, to this house. Gods damn it to the demons, I can’t save you, Anna.”

The sheer anguish in his voice cut through the armor she’d build around her heart after he’d left her in the gallery.

He cares. Warmth filled her.

“Perhaps we can save each other,” she said softly.

Another step and she reached the foot of the bed.

Her body tingled, thighs flexing at the memory of his tongue teasing her folds and filling her channel.

Her core pulsed and she licked her lips.

“I cannot strike him,” he said, touching a stone embedded in the flesh of his shoulder.

“You do not need to.” She drank him in. “You only need to touch me.”

“Touching you would be worth death.” His lips curved. “But I would rather be able to see you free of this place.”

“No more talk of death,” she said.

The mora wanted revenge—and she’d do everything she could to honor her promises to those spirits—but she was surprised to discover that she wanted more for herself. More than revenge. Or mere survival

She wanted a life with Enulf.

She trailed a finger along his leg. “If tomorrow’s sun shines upon us, I ask only for a kiss.”

“Nothing would please me more than to kiss you.” His gaze tracked her touch, then lifted to her face. His eyes were fierce. “If I were free, I would pledge myself to you, body and spirit.”

Her lips curved. “When you are free, I take that promise. But for now, I will take this moment.”

She untied her sash.

He sucked in a breath.

She let the robe slip from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, a cloud of filmy white fabric. The robe was the only piece of clothing she’d found in her room—the only thing she’d been given. It was right that it had taken her from her room, through the dark halls to Enulf’s bed.

“Holy gods, Anna,” he breathed. “You’re spectacular.”

“Yes.” She smiled down at him. “I rather think I am.”

Standing above him, looking at him in his bed, that blistering-hot glint in his eyes, she felt spectacular. Like a queen, like the true mistress of this castle. Powerful and sexual, and ready to take what she needed.

She stroked her hand up his thigh. “Will you serve me?”

He inhaled sharply and tried to rise. “With all my heart. But Anna, I’m broken in this bed. I can’t possibly—”

“Shh.” She held up a hand. “Stay.”

He’d pleasured her in the gallery, explored her body while she sat, enraptured by sheer pleasure. With a warm rush, she realized she wanted to explore every inch of him—more she wanted to return the favor. He’d confirmed that he wanted her just as badly, and she would not waste this moment.

Biting her lip, she tugged the sheet off his hips.

Golden gods, be praised.

He was huge.

And all hers.

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