I gasped. Moments ago, I’d been sound asleep. “Really? How did I wake you up?”
“By doing exactly what you’re doing to me now.” His lips skimmed across my neck, leaving shivers running down my spine, and heat pooling between my legs. “Grinding against me, just enough to torture me.”
I bit my lip and circled my hips back, feeling his cock pulse through our clothes. “I’m sorry, I woke you.”
“Mmmmmm.” He chuckled, his chest vibrating against my spine. “I’m not sorry. I liked it. A lot.” His hand slid down my belly, between my legs, until he cupped me. I pushed my hips forward, chasing the feel of his fingers. He was gentle for a second, teasing, and then he pulled me back into him, his hand between my legs dragging my body to his, so there was no more space between us. His knee pushed through my legs.
A surprised moan escaped my lips.
“Just like that,” he said, his fingers finding my core.
A whimper escaped my lips and I moved against him, seeking more friction. But between his knee and his hands, he was everywhere.
He worked me slowly, sucking on my neck. “I like waking up like this. With you.”
“Me, too,” I panted, feeling him twitch against me. I reached over my shoulder with my free hand, grasping his arm and pulling him on top of me as I rolled onto my back. He slid down the length of my body, stopping when his head reached my stomach. He smiled and kissed my belly button, his tongue dipping inside.
Then he pulled up my shirt—his shirt—the one I’d stolen from him to sleep in, until my breasts were exposed to the cold air of the Glemarian cave. My nipples hardened, aching for him to touch me again, to suck on them.
He knew, but he was having too much fun teasing me, slowly kissing his way back up my stomach. I squirmed as his mouth dragged higher and higher. Until finally, after what felt like an endless amount of torture, he wrapped both hands around my breasts, and stilled, his eyes hooded with desire as he stared intently at them.
I bit my lip. “What are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing, partner.” His eyes darkened. The edge of his lips quirked up. “I’m admiring the most perfect breasts in the world.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Bold of you to assume they’re the most perfect breasts when you haven’t seen every pair in the world.”
He scoffed. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t.”
“Rhyan! ” I yelled, and burst into laughter.
“Oh shit,” he hissed, immediately slapping his hand over my mouth. “Shhhh,” he tried to say, but he was laughing too hard to get the sound out. It only made me laugh harder.
“Meera,” I tried to whisper against his palm. She was sleeping, but her bed wasn’t too far from ours. We’d finally had sex again the other night, our first time since—well, the very first night.We’d made every effort to be as quiet as possible.But there was no way Meera hadn’t heard our laughter just now.
And I was right. She’d just gotten up. Shit.
Rhyan squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders shaking before he collapsed on top of me, and buried his face in my neck. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer, grinning stupidly, trying to keep my laughter quiet.
“Gods, I love you,” he said against my skin, still laughing. I stroked the curls at the back of his head.
“I love you.”
My eyes sprang open, my breath coming in quick, painful bursts. I was on my stomach, face down, my nose smushed under me. I was in something like a bed—a mix of straw and old blankets that carried a stale, musty scent, like they hadn’t been washed in a long time—if ever. I coughed and swallowed painfully, my throat was dry, and my head was heavy and aching. From the damp, sulfuric smell in the air, I knew I was in a cave. Specifically, the Wall of the Prince. The cave that?—
“And what were you dreaming about?” Rhyan asked, in that low, growly voice that marked an akadim. Heart thundering, I slowly turned my head and found him casually sitting on the bed beside me, watching. Chills ran down my spine, fear rushing through my veins. That voice had no soul, and was devoid of all warmth. It was unmistakably the voice of a demon. But more than the fear it evoked in me, was the pain in my chest. Because hearing Rhyan like this, hearing him speak, hearing his lilt, felt like someone had slashed my heart. I could still hear his accent, still hear him beneath the monstrousness.
And somehow, despite it all, despite the growl underlying each syllable, and the way his vocal cords had deepened, he still sounded like himself. Like Rhyan.
I rolled over onto my side, shifting away from him. Everything hurt. I was sore, and there was a sharp crick in my neck. But I couldn’t do much more than roll. My arms were bound behind me, restrained with rope that he’d tied tightly from my wrists to my elbows. The position had forced my shoulders back to the point that they were strained. I tried to wiggle, to see if the ropes would come loose or if they had any give, but there was none. Rhyan had been thorough in his binding.
Rough stone walls surrounded us from all sides with only a small opening—like a doorway that led into more darkness and stone. Something awful smelling was in the air, something metallic and sharp, like decay. We were in a private alcove. A single torch had been nailed into the stone, its faint flames flickering, and casting eerie shadows across the room.
And Rhyan had me alone in it, tied up, trapped.
Where was Auriel? Had he been captured, too?
A shiver ran down my spine as more details of my reality set in. I was still dressed in my tunic, and boots. But my cloak was gone, so was my armor, Asherah’s chest plate, and my belt. He’d taken all of my weapons. Everything I’d carried on me.
