“Will you tell me your name?” I asked.
He shook his head, “Ready?” He seemed to laugh. “Ready to make the noise stop?”
Swallowing roughly, I nodded. “Ready.”
He grinned against my lips and lined himself up at my entrance, gently rubbing his length up and down my core. My breath caught, my heart thundering, and then suddenly, he pushed inside.
I cried out.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “You’re tight.”
I could barely breathe. My mouth opened. It was so much at once. And he was everywhere, filling all my senses. All my awareness. I could feel him on every inch of my skin. Covering me, inside of me, becoming part of me. His aura enveloped us, a forceful shadow that felt like the power of death.
But as he slid all the way in, like a Godsdamned miracle, my mind was quiet. The voices had stopped. My headache was gone.
By the fucking Gods. He’d told the truth.
He was still, allowing me to adjust to his size. It hurt. But … the other pain I’d been feeling for hours—that had been worse. And that was gone. Never before had my mind been so quiet, my thoughts so at peace.
I nodded up at him, urging him to move. His hips rolled back as he thrust in and out. The more he did that, the better it began to feel. The more my body welcomed him, stretched to accommodate the thickness filling me.
He rocked into me, a hand reaching for my leg as he slid deeper inside before pulling back, and thrusting again.
“How does that feel?” he asked, tenderly reaching for my face. He pushed my hair back. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” I whimpered. “It’s good.”
“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice holding more concern for me than I’d expected. It was so different from the seductive voice he’d had before. It was almost as if he meant it—as if he cared.
Before I could answer, an ashvan raced past my window, leaving behind enough of their glowing blue light to illuminate my lover’s face. Just for a second.
He saw the moment it happened. The second I recognized him, and stilled, his muscles tensing.
His long dark hair fell past his shoulders like black silk, and his eyes were made of pure indigo.
“Moriel?” I said, my heart pounding.
“Ereshya,” he said, and kissed me.
I woke up with a gasp. My body was overheated. I was Morgana. I was Morgana. Not Ereshya. But that dream … It wasn’t a dream, not exactly. That had been my memory of my first night with Aemon—almost. Until the end.
“Interesting,” Parthenay said, her voice snide. She leaned against the roughhewn stone of what amounted to the doorway to my bedroom. “You woke just before it gotreallygood.”
“Get the fuck out,” I said, trying to control my breathing.
“But you had us all so entertained.”
My throat dried as I turned my head. Half a dozen akadim were in my room, hidden in the shadows of my peripheral vision. They were all kneeling on the floor, some with their hands hovering between their legs, watching me with red, hungry eyes. There was lust in them, a monstrous kind. But also fear. Fear of me. And reverence.
I was their queen now. A title I never wanted. Especially not over them.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking, from showing weakness. “No one is supposed to come in here.”
“We were drawn,” Parthenay said innocently.
“Gryphon-shit! Just because you invade my privacy doesn’t mean you get to drag all of them in here, too.”
“Trust me,” she chuckled, “I didn’t. Though, unlike them, I did have a front-row seat to what you saw. You know, I always wondered what it was like to get fucked by a king. By a God. Now you’ve shown me. Twice. But them? They came from your own call. They sensed thedesire leaking off you.” Her stupid hateful face contorted into one of mock passion. “Oh,” she cried out, one hand on her breast. “Oh, Moriel.”
