He then increases the pressure, angling his hips so that the head of his cock continues to brush the small bud concealed at the top of my folds. A hard pulse of pleasure sends a tingling wave branching down my legs. I choke back a softened plea.
“You are,” Eurus murmurs in awe, “the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Your skin is like moonlight. Your hair, black velvet. The opal roundness of your face…” Onto each feature, he bestows a kiss. Right cheek, then the left. Forehead, nose, chin.
Warmth climbs to my ears. His compliments are too dear. I wish to hoard them as diamonds, each a separate yet distinct brightness. “It’s the dress,” I protest.
“No.” He grips the tops of my thighs. “Gown or apron, dress or undergarments, it is you I see, Min.” His mouth brushes mine. “Bird.”
It frightens me, this emotion. Might there be love woven alongside the affection? “I am no goddess—”
“Stop.” He presses a finger to my mouth, silencing me. “I do not want one of the divine. I want you. I want Min and no one else: the ingenious bane weaver, the courageous mortal who pushed me to be a better man. The woman who is as kind as she is giving, who is stronger than she ever believed possible, with a beauty beyond measure. Thewoman who is good,” he murmurs. “Perhaps too good for the likes of me.”
I might never understand how a god can look upon a mortal and see no flaws. Or maybe I am wrong and the flaws are what attract. Because the East Wind, as I have learned, is both terribly flawed and mesmerizingly fascinating. He is both. He is all.
My smile is slow growing. Eurus watches it take shape, his eyes softening. I am beautiful notdespite, butbecause. I am beautifulbecauseI suffer. I am beautifulbecauseI have hurt. I am beautifulbecauseI am sometimes lost, or frightened, or insecure. And I am worthy of good things, regardless of whether I am mortal or divine.
“You, too, are beautiful to me,” I tell him, tracing the scar that blots the left side of his face.
To this, his mouth curls, as though he does not share the sentiment. “There are others less unsightly than I.”
“And?” I stare at him. “I do not seek perfection, Eurus. I do not want it. Without faults in the earth, there would be no mountains, no canyons, no caves or rivers or cliffs. It is these things that give the realm shape, and I would not trade it, not for anything. Nor would I trade you,” I say, sweeping my thumb across his chin, “my beautiful, scarred immortal.”
In the darkness of the suite, the East Wind leans forward to capture my mouth. When he nips my lower lip, I angle forward on a gasp, driving my core hard against his stiffened shaft.
Pleasure spirals through me. It demandsmore, yes, there. I widen my legs so my center makes contact with the damp fabric of my undergarments and the hard heat of him beneath his trousers. As his hands return to my waist, I begin to work on the buttons of his silk shirt.
The fabric parts, and there is his chest, its smattering of dark hair, one half scarred, the other unblemished. I blink in stupefaction. It is unfairly chiseled, the plane of his abdomen taut with strength. I told the East Wind I do not seek perfection, but his body is close to it.
“You act like you’ve never seen a man’s chest before.” Then his eyes narrow. “Have you?”
I clear my throat. “Once. But it was not as impressive as yours.”
He seems ridiculously pleased by this. “Good.”
Dipping my head, I press a kiss to the scar knitted across his shoulder. My hands wander down, down toward his erection. But I purposefully skirt the area, the tips of my fingers skimming the rise of one hip bone, his upper thigh, before I free the buttons of his trousers.
His erection springs out into my waiting hands. My mouth goes dry. By the Mother, I might take it into my mouth, but the throbbing between my legs is insistent now. Instead, I shift back onto his lap and press my heated core fully against him. I urge myself onward, welcoming the delicious burn.
A rough grunt sounds from his chest. As I circle my hips, I seek out the slight flare of his cockhead, making sure I deliberately rub against it with my driving motions. I do this until Eurus’ breath stutters and he breaks away, gasping.
I smile, peering at him through lowered lashes. His face has slackened. He is spellbound, completely absorbed by the sight of my sensuality.
“Have you deceived me, bird?”
My heart skips a beat, and I grow cold.
But he leans forward, catches the lobe of my ear between his teeth. “Have you desired me all this time?”
The truth is, Ihavedeceived him. I sent that message to Lady Clarisse with the Courier, promising I would return home, his god-touched ax in hand. But that was before I realized the mistake I’d made. Now that Lady Clarisse believes Eurus’ weapon has been destroyed, she will have no further interest in him. That should be the end of it.
“Bird? What’s wrong?” Eurus peers at me in concern.
“N-nothing.” I wince, forcing my mouth into an upward curve.
“If you want to stop…”
“No!” I lean in, rest my forehead against his. “I don’t want to stop,” I whisper.
His hot breath tickles the shell of my ear. My nipples harden beneath my dress, and my mind wanders to my dresser, where the jar ofhoney that Demi purchased for me from the market a few weeks back now rests. “Could you give me a minute?”
