I took my time, painting patterns across her skin with the golden sap—down her sternum, across the swell of her breasts, along her ribs where her marks glowed brightest. Each application made her gasp. Each time I followed with my mouth, tasting honey and her, she made sounds that went straight to my groin.
“Kaelren,” she breathed, her hands finding my hair, holding me to her like she was afraid I’d stop.
I had no intention of stopping. I lavished attention on her breasts, the sap making my tongue glide smoothly across sensitive skin. I used my teeth carefully, scraping across peaks already hardened with need, and felt her whole body shudder in response.
When I was satisfied—when she was trembling and gasping my name—I moved lower, kissing a path down her stomach that made her forget how to breathe. The marks there pulsed under my lips, responding to my touch, to my need, to the bond that sang between us.
“Please,” she gasped, not sure what she was begging for. “I need—”
“Let me take care of you,” I said against her hip, pressing a kiss there. “Let me show you how precious you are.”
I lifted her gently, adjusting her position on the petal-covered bed with reverence that made my hands tremble. When I settled between her thighs, spreading them wider to make room for my shoulders, I had to pause for a moment just to look at her. Flushed and wanting, her marks glowing, her chest heaving with anticipation—she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
My hands settled on her thighs, and when I looked up at her, I knew my eyes were dark with desire and something deeper—worship, maybe, or wonder at the sheer privilege of being trusted with this.
The first taste of her was intoxicating—earthy and sweet with an undercurrent of that wild power she carried, like summer storms and growing things and magic barely contained. I groaned against her, the soundvibrating through her in a way that made her cry out.
I took my time, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue that made her whimper and focused attention on the bundle of nerves that made her cry out and arch off the bed. I remembered from our first time together what made her fall apart, but I wanted to learn it all over again, wanted to discover new ways to drive her mad.
Her thighs trembled around my head, and I had to hold her hips down to keep her from arching off the bed entirely. The plants glowed brighter around us, responding to her pleasure, to the power building between us.
“Please,” she gasped, her hands tightening in my hair almost painfully. “I need—I can’t—”
I knew what she needed. I doubled my efforts, adding my fingers to the mix, sliding them inside her while my tongue worked that sensitive bundle of nerves. She was tight and hot around my fingers, her body clenching in rhythm with each stroke. I found the angle that made her see stars, curling my fingers to hit that spot inside her that made her scream.
Her hands were desperate in my hair now, holding me in place, and then suddenly they left, reaching up to find—
My ears.
Her fingers traced the pointed tips—more pronounced here in the dreamscape than in reality—and the sensation shot through me like lightning. I actually growled against her, the vibration making her hips buck against my mouth.
“Do that again,” I demanded, pulling back just enough to speak, my fingers never stopping their rhythm inside her.
She did, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the sensitive points of my ears, and I had to fight not to lose myself completely. Instead, I channeled that pleasure into my efforts, my tongue working faster, my fingers hitting that perfect spot with each thrust.
We were learning each other all over again, mapping new territory, building something between us that existed outside of prophecy or destiny or the roles we’d been forced into. This was just us—just two people who wanted each other with a desperation that defied logic.
I felt her getting close, felt the way her body tensed, the way her breathing grew ragged and desperate. Through the bond, I could feel her pleasure building like a storm about to break, and I wanted to be the one who shattered her.
“Let go,” I murmured against her. “Let go, love. I’ve got you.”
When she came, it was my name on her lips—my name, not a curse or a prayer but something in between. Her whole body went rigid, her marks blazing so bright the entire room seemed to glow with golden light. Through the bond, I felt her pleasure as if it were my own—waves of it crashing over both of us, drowning us in sensation. My own marks pulsed in response, the bond between us singing with shared ecstasy.
I worked her through it, my fingers gentling inside her, my tongue softening its assault until the waves began to subside. Even then, I continued with soft, careful touches, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until she was pushing my head away with shaking hands.
“Stop, stop,” she gasped, oversensitive and trembling. “Too much—”
I pressed one last reverent kiss to her inner thigh, then slowly withdrew my fingers and crawled up her body. She was trembling, her breathing ragged, her marks still glowing softly in the aftermath. I gathered her against me, holding her close while she shook.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, pressing kisses to her forehead, her temple, her flushed cheeks. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
She buried her face against my neck, her arms wrapping around me with surprising strength for someone who’d just come apart so completely. “That was…” she started, then trailed off, apparently unable to find words.
“Perfect,” I finished for her. “You’re perfect.”
She relaxed into my embrace, her head finding the hollow of my shoulder like it was made to fit there. We lay tangled together, skin to skin, our marks glowing softly in the dim light.
“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly. “Of what’s coming. Of what might happen to us.”
