Page 78 of The Blood that Binds Us

I noticed he had a habit of doing tasks the mundane way instead of willing them complete with magic. The Black Art of Aegidale. The warlord known for being able to bring a man to his knees without lifting a finger butchoosesto blacken his hands with steel and ash.

I rip the blankets off me and step out of bed, all too aware of the scantily clad nightgown clinging to my body. “Stand,” I tell him.

He raises a dark eyebrow but obeys,toweringover me.

I kneel before him.

Resting my hands on the crossguard, I present myself and my sword to the Black Art. “I pledge to serve you in the battle to come, Your Grace. So long as Legion remains a threat to us, I am your arm to wield.”

It’s a formality, of course. Sin and I have already made our compromise, but nonetheless, it feels right to pledge it verbally.

Sin stares down at me for a long moment, a mix of respect and… something else on his face. “I accept your pledge and in return, I swear to protect you in the face of battle tomorrow. Now get off the floor—you don’t belong there.” He wraps a large hand around my bicep and pulls me against his chest. My breath catches as he leans forward to brush his lips against my ear. “But if you’re fond of kneeling, I can find a better purpose for it.”

He brushes past me, heading for the door, and I wonder if his transcendent ears hear the lapse in my breath. I should let him go. Walk out the door so we can both get some rest before tomorrow, and then I can pack my things and leave after the war is won. Because something tells me if I call after him, it will break the seal holding in the carnal desires we’ve both been stifling.

That would be very,verydangerous.

But I’ve always had an affinity for playing with fire.

“Do you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you, Your Grace?”

Sin freezes, his back towards me, and I could choke on the tension filling the space between us. Slowly, he turns to face me again, and he walks back towards me, this time not stopping until his chest is flush against mine and his hips are pressed against my waist. He reaches up to cup my jaw. “If you’re asking if I’ve spilt seed thinking about this pretty little mouth,” he runs his thumb over the swells of my lips, “the answer is yes.”

I capture my bottom lip between my teeth, and he growls at the sight of it. He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring. “Does that thought arouse you, love?” he asks, already knowing the answer.Smellingit from between the thighs I clench together as if I could hold back the wetness now pooling there.

“When?” I ask.

He arches a dark brow at my question.

“You said you pleasured yourself thinking about me. I want to know when.” I straighten my spine, willing my lips not to tremble under his touch.

Sin drops his hands to grip my waist and pushes us both back onto the balcony until my ass bumps against the railing. He dips his head and presses his full lips along the column of my neck.

“The night we shared a bed, when I left so you could bathe,” he whispers against my skin. “I didn’t have release at the Rut, and I barely made it to the woods before I was fisting my cock and coming in my hand, wishing it was your godsdamned throat.”

I grab the railing behind me as his mouth moves lower and his fingers ball up the fabric of my nightgown around my thighs. He drags his lips across my collarbone.

“This is wrong. Sin—Singard, this is… wrong,” my words trail off as he bites down on the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and a small moan falls from my lips, inciting his own growl of approval.

“Is it wrong that you’re dripping at the thought of me—of us? You know I can smell it,” he says, then licks the spot he bit. He slides my dress up, and his hands grip my full thighs. My heart thrums erratically in my ears. I can’t think straight, my mind consumed with his hands on my skin, the heat coming off him, the smell of his blood from the vial now sitting on the bedside table.This is wrong. But why is it wrong? I can’t remember now.

I gasp as his fingers lightly brush against my underwear.

“Can I touch you here, love?”

It isn’t logic. And it certainly isn’tright.But my thoughts are clouded with his hand so damn close to where Iacheto feel his touch, and I nod. “Yes,” I whisper, hating and loving myself for giving him permission to touch me where I need to feel him most.

He hooks two fingers into my panties and pulls them to the side, baring me to him. His eyes drop to my cunt, now throbbing in anticipation, and his eyes glaze with lust.

My head falls back as he slips a finger inside me.

“Oh, little witch,” he murmurs, feeling my wetness there.

I arch my back as he begins to slide his finger in and out of me, breathy pants falling from my mouth as he does. Sin wraps his other arm around my waist, supporting me against the balcony railing as he fucks me with his finger, then two. I grind against his hand, desperate for release, but also terrified to let this man make me come. The man that held me captive. Threatened my life. Choked the very breath out of me.

But somehow it all makes me burn hotter for him, as if the wrongness of it makes it feel that much fucking better.

I cry out when he withdraws his fingers. “What are you—”

---