But I know now I cannot allow Lady Clarisse to capture the East Wind. He is no caged bird, and I would not clip his wings.
Slowly, I roll onto my side to face him. The fire burns low. It shades the severe angles of his face and mutes the scarring near his hairline. My hand slips lower. The East Wind’s abdomen contracts as I brush the trail of hair leading from his navel, skirting the heavy shaft hanging between his powerful thighs. When I trace the crescent of his hip bone, he hisses out a breath.
I snatch my hand away. “S-sorry.”
“No.” He reaches for me. “Don’t stop.” His eyes never leave mine as he returns my hand to his abdomen. “You will not hurt me,” he murmurs with certainty.
A thread of guilt pulls in my chest. There is still time to repair the mistake I have made. Once the trial is done, I will send a message to Lady Clarisse, claiming Eurus’ ax has been destroyed. If she believes it to no longer exist, there will be no need to search for it. He should be safe. “Eurus—”
He catches my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Keep going, bird.”
My mouth is dry as old parchment. My tongue has forgotten how to shape itself. But my hand glides low, lower, skating across every subtle peak and vale of his muscled abdomen until it hits dense pubic hair. There my fingertips pause, the soft bristle feathering my knuckles.
Eurus lifts his hips, and as our eyes meet, I circle his shaft in my hand. It is firm, yet there is give beneath the veined skin. A gentle squeeze near the base, then higher, toward the flared head. I give him a torturously slow stroke. A rough, unintelligible sound grinds past his teeth.
Heat flares through my core, and as I peer at him through lowered lashes, I marvel at the power my hand holds. The East Wind’s hungeris acute. He stares at me like a man starved. It tells me I am worthy. It tells me I ammore, that I amonly.
Again, I squeeze, and all the breath leaves Eurus’ body. Already, the musk of his skin has invaded my senses, my world narrowed to the red staining his cheeks. I brush his wide cockhead with my thumb, delighted by the early seed seeping through the slit. He shudders, and that, too, is heady.
“You like that?” I whisper.
His eyes are black, black, black. “You know I do,” he growls.
By the Mother. My face feels scorched, the skin all but peeling away from the heat kindling beneath. If I had even a sliver less of willpower, I would have already climbed onto his lap, legs spread, and taken him inside me.
Because in his arms, I am powerful. I am alluring. I am self-assured. And so, catching the translucent bead, I smear it around the crown, beneath the lip where sensitivity lingers, and use it to ease my path down his shaft.
He drops his head, panting. “Fuck.” He then gives a slow thrust into my curled fingers. “Your hand feels divine.”
The act feels delicious, borderline forbidden. Thisshouldbe wrong. Not only are we caught in the final trial’s web, but poison works its way through Eurus’ system. But I don’t care. Neither does he. And that is powerful in its own right, to know we choose each other.
Catching the back of my neck, the East Wind holds me in place, lowering his mouth to the curve where shoulder and neck join. He bites gently. The sting drags a soft sound of need from me, the flat of his tongue cooling the minor heat.
I continue to work Eurus over, playing with his balls for a time until he catches my hand and moves it back to where he wants. As he swells in my grip, he keeps his hand curled over mine, showing me without words his preferred pressure and pace. Every so often, a low grunt escapes him, and his wings gradually unfurl.
My skin tightens. Without having realized it, my strokes have increased their pace. Fast, faster now. Eurus ruts against my hand, hisrhythm faltering as he peaks. With a broken cry, he erupts, coating my fingers in white webs of seed.
The hoarse peal of his desire burrows between my legs. My core pulses, hard. I squeeze my thighs tighter against the ache, trying to ignore it.
The glimmer of his eyes holds mine in thrall, and I ease closer, only half aware of our surroundings. It has grown uncomfortably warm, his flushed skin kissed with the fever of mine.
“Min.” It is deep, his voice, my name mere vibration.
I catch his arm as he reaches for me. “Wait.”
Eurus searches my face. Fearing that he will sense my betrayal, I drop my gaze. It is one thing to give him this pleasure. It is another to build intimacy based on a trust that does not exist.
“I thought you wanted this,” he says, confused.
“I do.” But I can’t allow this to go further. Not tonight. Not until I have reversed my wrongdoing. “You are unwell. You should save your strength.”
He frowns, and a lock of hair falls across his brow. I brush it aside and frame his cheek.
“When?” he whispers, gaze lifting to mine. “I have thought of this, of you and me, together.” He appears uncertain, which in turn makesmefeel uncertain. “We kissed. I assumed that was proof enough of how I felt.”
“We did,” I concede. “And what if I told you that I also have thoughts of us together?”
Eurus slides his hand along my forearm, elbow to wrist. “Then I would tell you I am here to bring you pleasure, in whatever form you desire, at whatever time you wish.” Lifting my hand to his mouth, he bestows a kiss onto my open palm, eyes never leaving mine. My fingers twitch, curling inward against the tickling sensation. “I would take my time with you, bird. This, I promise you.”
