Boreas sulks, as if he’d never considered this to be an issue. “And this displeases you?”
How have I never noticed how funny he is? I snort and wrap my arms around his neck. “Not in the slightest.” We kiss. It’s brief, sweet, and quickly forgotten in the heat of our coupling.
The North Wind draws out and sinks back in with languorous ease. Sweat drips from the tip of his nose to spatter on my chest, which he licks clean with swipes of his tongue.
The citadel lies in deep silence around us. Boreas increases his pace, shifting onto his knees with my legs splayed over his hard thighs, before taking my legs and wrapping them around his waist so we’re locked groin to groin. Digging his fingers into my hips, he lifts me, angles his cock, and sheaths himself in one perfect slide.
Our bodies sink and rise in harmony, and we move in tandem as though we have been doing this our entire lives. He pounds into me, drawing out my pleasure until our scents merge and there is no beginning and no end, only my name in his mouth, his taste on my tongue, togetherness.
This man, who saw the wounded, lashing creature in my heart, who coaxed it out of hiding, who praised me for what I was, not what I was not, who didn’t flinch at my sharp edges, sees all of me. My captor, my husband, my enemy, my lover, my friend.
A dream I did not dare to dream.
Mine.
Boreas whispers my name. I fist my hands in his hair as our bodies move in sync, a pleasure so acute it spirals higher, tighter, drilling down deep and setting my blood alight.
I gasp as the pleasure spikes, and suddenly I’m that much nearer to completion. I’m at the very cusp, and Boreas slams into me with abandon, his mouth agape, and I’m right there with him, toeing that edge.
“Wren.” He grunts and sucks hard on the curve of my neck.
“Whatever you do,” I gasp, “don’t stop.”
Boreas chokes out laughter. I can’t laugh. I’m too busy trying to remember how to breathe properly as, hand in hand, we bring each other to a higher place, one uniquely ours. And then I shatter.
With a hoarse cry, I bow upward, consumed by the fire splitting my skin, tearing open my core and deeper insides. Abruptly, Boreas stiffens. Sharp-edged emotion explodes in his dark pupils, and he shoves me onto my back, fucking me like an animal, skin slapping skin and the musk of our arousal sitting like a fog in my head. And on he goes, and still on, until his hips shudder against mine and he collapses against my chest.
His weight presses me into the blankets. Like him, I’m utterly spent, completely boneless. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
“You’re crushing my lungs,” I mutter into his neck.
He huffs a laugh and rolls to the side, tucking me into the curve of his body. There we remain while our hearts slow and our bodies cool.The fire has all but died. Boreas traces the swell of my hip in idle strokes.
I turn to face him. He wears the stony mask, the one he clings to so ferociously, but it’s of little use now. I see the cracks.
Leaning forward, he nudges his nose with mine. My hands lift to trace his jaw, my thumbs sweeping across his cheeks.
“I like feeling close to you,” Boreas says, quietly and with feeling.
My throat tightens. I can have this, I realize, if I am brave enough to take it. “Me, too,” I whisper, then lean forward to brush a kiss across my husband’s mouth.
40
AWARM HAND ON MYthigh jerks me awake. Boreas leans over me, dark hair in disarray, blue eyes narrowed with intensity. He presses a finger to his lips to signal silence.
Senses prickling, I slowly sit up, squinting through the darkness. The fire has long since died. We fell asleep hours ago after another round of intense lovemaking, our sated bodies pressed as closely as possible.
“My guards sounded the horn,” he says, voice low in my ear.
The first wave of alarm crests in me, and I lean into his chest. The citadel has been breached. “Darkwalkers?”
He nods grimly.
“How did they get past the barrier?”
He brushes two fingers down the side of my face. “I don’t know.” The furrow between his eyebrows deepens. He’s told me time and again that the barrier cannot be weakened, for it is sealed over every portion of the high stone wall.
My attention darts to the window. We have a view of the courtyard, and of those guarding the wall. A bird’s-eye perspective could give additional insight into how the darkwalkers managed to infiltrate, the numbers we are up against. If it’s any comparison to the bloodbath of the most recent battle…
