Auriel brushed a tear from my cheek, and pressed his forehead against mine.
“It wasn’t him,” he said. “It wasn’t. Just a void, a shell of what he once was.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I know. It’s okay. Any reaction you have to him is okay. Lyriana, he knows how to hurt you, the evil of the akadim means that he knows things he shouldn’t. He has access to Rhyan’s memories. But that’s not him. It’s a demon, an akadim animating his body without a soul. You hear me?” he asked, drawing his fingers across my hand. “The closest thing to Rhyan isn’t that monster. What you just saw, what you just experienced is the farthest thing. Rhyan is good— Rhyan is his soul. Hiska.And that’s not what you faced back there. The closest thing you have to Rhyan right now is right here in front of you,Meka. Not that body, not that monster. Me.Iam his soul.”
I exhaled sharply, my eyes meeting his in a way that they never had before. Not in this life. I became acutely aware that our foreheads were still touching.
My breath caught, and Auriel froze, his body still as a statue, barely moving except for his hand around mine. His fingers made soothing strokes across my skin. Warm, comforting. Alive. The gesture was so familiar, so like Rhyan. Memories of Auriel ran through my mind. Memories of loving him as Asherah, and of feeling that love now as Lyriana. Of knowing I’d fallen in love with him again through Rhyan. Because he was Rhyan. And that love I’d felt for him, mymekarim, was thrumming through my veins, pulsing through my heart.
I leaned forward, just an inch, my lips humming from how near they were to his. I could smell him, the musk that clung to him from battle. And yet, perhaps because he was a God, there was a sweetness underlying it. A scent I wanted to bathe in.
I tilted my head, our lips nearly brushing together.
“Lyr,” he breathed, his chin lifting, and that was all it took.
The distance closed between us, and my lips pressed against his. Something ancient and powerful seemed to zap through me, pushing out the pain, pushing out the hurt, the scars left by the Rhyan I’d just faced.
Auriel stilled, my lips tingling just from the barest touch. “Lyriana,” he said again, his chest heaving. “What—What are you?—?”
Our eyes met, our lips once more a breath away from each other, and I was suddenly lost in the sea of Auriel’s green. The green I’d always loved. His eyes were hooded as he watched me, darkening with raw hunger—hunger I’d seen in my memories asAsherah. The same hunger that had been rising to the surface for weeks now.
His aura pulsed around me, pulling me in toward him, bright and warm and full of an unbridled need. A need for me.
And yet, there was still a question in his gaze, a small doubt. He had to know I was sure, as much as he had to make sure I was okay. I could see it—his concern, his worry.
But under it all, I could see something else. His love.
“Lyriana,” he said again, his eyebrows drawing together. One final question.
I shook my head. “Don’t, Auriel.” I pressed my finger to his lips. “Just kiss me.”
Chapter
Thirty-Three
LYRIANA
Auriel’s lips slid across mine as his hands cupped my face, his fingers brushing against my cheeks. He angled my head, pulling me closer and sucking my top lip between his, his tongue sliding against it. Shivers of pleasure ran down my body, as heat pooled in my core. Then he repeated the kiss on my bottom lip and moaned into my mouth. Like he’d been thirsting for me, starving. Because he had been. And so had I. He pressed another kiss, our lips fitting together like they were supposed to be, like they’d been designed for each other. Two halves of a whole.
“Meka,” he whispered.
And that was it. That was all it took—a damn burst between us—weeks of pent-up desire and frustration, torment and denial were exploding as we lost ourselves in a frenzy of kisses. I couldn’t get enough, I wanted to ravage his mouth, eat him alive.
Auriel groaned as our tongues collided. Every nerve inside me was alive and alight. I felt like I was sinking into my body for the first time in weeks, breathing for the first time since Rhyan had been taken.
I reached for his hair, tangling my fingers in his curls, caressing the nape of his neck as I slid myself onto his lap,my legs wrapping around his hips. I undulated against him, my chest rubbing against his armor.
His hand snaked toward my shoulder, and then down my spine, before lowering me onto my back as he positioned himself on top of me. His knees braced against the bed, between my legs, one hand pushing into the mattress by my head. Our eyes met, as he held himself over me and then he thrust down, his hips pushing against me, his hardened length sliding against my core.
I gasped, gripping his neck, kissing him deeper, and moaning into his mouth. I crossed my ankles around his hips, pulling him closer, urging him to go harder. My own hips lifted, seeking him out, desperate for more friction, desperate to feel his cock pulsing against me. I needed him, I needed this. Gods. I just needed more. So much more.
He pulled back, his eyes meeting mine dark and laced with desire, and with a feral growl, he reared his hips back, and slammed against me.
I cried out, sliding my hands down his back, my fingers digging into his waist, urging him on and on. Whispering in his ear, “Faster. Harder.”
“Fuck,” he growled into my mouth, circling his hips between mine. He was somehow growing thicker, pushing against me, right where I needed him. “You feel so good. It’s been so long.” He thrust again, crying out. “So long since it was like this.” Then he was kissing me, sucking my tongue into his mouth, leaving me breathless as our bodies strained, pushing, grinding, trying to get closer, trying to feel more.
