Page 45 of The Surrender

I don’t feel the cold anymore. Just the maddening fever coupled with his.

Fully clothed, he hunts my flesh with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. Back-to-back whimpers, the kind he loves, flee my throat as he covers the pale swell of my breast with his mouth and suckles. Velvet tongue licking and kissing and circling my nipples. He rouses a healthy inflammation to the peaks when he closes his teeth around each bud and tugs. He nips and nibbles then trains his tongue lower and lower.

One dip into my navel before he divides my thighs, fingers printing onto the flesh. Wider, he spreads me with my knees thrust to my shoulders where he finds me a panting, flush, and wet mess of craving.

One collision of our eyes. His don’t swell with bloodthirst, but the hungry glint in one is undeniable. A muscle bounces in his cheek—right before he lowers his mouth between my thighs.

“Savage mercies!” I cry out, clawing at the ground from him burying his mouth in my pussy.

With the underside of my legs on Merikh’s strong shoulders and the blood fully stopped from the press of ice and snow, he drinks from me. He drinks the sensual, heated juices of my cunt. Blood craving bowing to flesh-craving. He sucks at my labia, twists his tongue along my folds, probes at my slit, and descends lower to tongue the dark ring until I’m writhing. The ends of my hair fall into the icy rushing water below the bank. All the rest of me is enflamed. Hot tears burn my vision from the attention he trains on my sex—how he circles the swollen clitoris, closes his lips around the plump nub to suckle. He sucks and nibbles the sensitive bud until it’s fat and throbbing. No part of me is unlicked, untouched.

When his deep groan rumbles into my cunt, it spirals me toward an oblivion of pleasure. Of release he snaps the second he pulls away, flooding my pussy with a cold burst of air. Dragging me back from the precipice just as I jumped.

“No!” I whimper, but my cry is quickly covered by his mouth.

And then, he’s filling me.

By the time he stabs the magic crosses of his unholy vampire cock inside me, he’s prepared me for the feral and cold, steel kiss. He’s turned me inside out. Where my blood was ice, now it’s a lit fuse. My drunken flesh is hot and starved. All for him.

With my pale, shivering body on the hard ground and his fully clothed, dark form shadowing me, Merikh fucks me right there. Under the bridge. On the bank. In the snow.

I am faced with the full gravity of the vampire bearing down on me—of brutal thrusts followed by him pulling out, then slamming back in.

Merikh grips my wrists, fucks me harder and harder until my hair drapes across the frosted rocks of the river. He’s curved my body over the downward slope of the bank, so I must grip his cock as hard as possible with all my inner muscles.

“That’s right, little dove. Suck me in deep.”

He looks down to where we are bound and from this angle, I can see his cock pulling out slowly. Inch by excruciating inch, he forces me to feel every last cold, hard lick of his magic cross. And see my arousal coating his thick and rigid length.

“You’re tight, hot, wet for me. All for me. My fucking, soaked little dove.” The vampire grows harder. Then slams into me. Stretching my flesh wider until I’m burning.

I’m faced with the devastation of his beauty and savagery with how he fucks me. How his severity sharpens the exquisite lines of his sculpted cheekbones. How he widens me more, fucks me deeper. Kneading my hips, my belly, my breasts, my throat, he replaces every drop of bloodlust and satisfies a flesh one.

He power-fucks me down to my soul. He carves me open like he’s done to his scars.

Raiding and ravishing me, Merikh coils one hand around my throat, taps my jugular in the most delicate reminder of what he surrendered, and grinds his mouth against mine. My heart ricochets in my chest. Every last drop of blood smolders. I clench tight around him, feeling my inner muscles spasm and my nerve endings spiral again.

He swells inside me, grows harder, hotter, thicker. The magic cross is chafing the walls of my inflamed pussy, fueling the pleasure to sing into me. Tears sheen my vision. But they’re not enough to disrupt the vision of him fixated on me. Mouth sealed to mine, all that cold, hard-driven emotion in his eyes bores into me. A million splintered words as those orbs fuck the windows of my soul.

A cold sweat breaks out on me. All his chest heaves. His hips shooting forward in the throes of his release and his silent eye-fuckery send me over the edge. All my inner muscles clamp down as he drives himself deeper than ever.

Jaw of iron. Body stiff as ice, he pounds me like the god he is. Snaps. And growls his release. Lower and deeper, the growl vibrates into me, intensifying the electrifying fever storming through me.

Dark ice surrounds me, but liquid fire erupts inside me. I scream into his mouth as the orgasm ruptures through me and shakes my heart loose until it collides with his.

And while I know it may be a delusion, wishful thinking, a figment of my imagination, I’d like to think I hear one, withered, telltale beat in his chest.

With our crushed and unified breath thundering all around us, Merikh pulls out, secures himself back in his breeches, then kisses me again.

Next, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the castle where he commands Eyn-Amaru to bathe me and dress my wounds. Because while he may lower himself to fetching me gold berries, Merikh is the last of the Kings who would ever participate in after care. Nor would I expect him to.

Under his watchful eye, as he drinks wine, she does all of this and helps me into a thin gold and silver gown, high-waisted, and adorned with more feathers. She braids my hair, and he’s just rising from his chair by the hearth and prowling toward me when Kyan crashes through the door of the bedroom—with Drago in half-dragon form and bleeding all over his scales.

32

The bond between me and Quintessa has just grown wings…

KYAN

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