“And what do you want?” She curled her lips.
“I don’t know, not truly.” He used her breath as fuel for his words, tasting her. “All I know is that I want you.”
The snarl fell from her mouth and Arianna searched his face with her brilliantly lilac eyes. He had never held his breath with such anticipation of a woman’s judgment—of anyone’s judgment. But she held all he was in that moment. She formed his future with her tongue and lips and she was going to destroy him if what spilled from them wasn’t everything he needed—not wanted,needed—to be for her.
“How do you want me?” she raised her chin slightly, the woman was powerful even while prone.
“Ari…” He was losing momentum. He was losing his footing. The tides were shifting under him, pulling him deeper into her, and she had yet to show any inclination to save him from the swirling depths.
He would drown in her, if only she would let him.
“Tell me, Cvareh. Tell me and I will tell you.”
It was a deal too good to be true.
Cvareh leaned forward, slowly. Slow enough that she could fight back. That she could resist. That she had ample time to utter a word of protest. His hands didn’t restrain her; instead they caressed her ashen skin like he would the finest of silks in Napole. His fingertips sought out the calluses on the pads of her hands. All his lust, all the lust in the world, would be nothing if she didn’t burn for him in return.
His nose brushed along her jawline. Slowly. Tracing the strong curve to her ear. She smelled of dust, sweat, the remnants of Rok blood, sun, and his most favorite scent of all: the sultry notes of honeysuckle. It was a perfume sweeter than any he’d ever been exposed to. It was all he wanted to inhale.
“I want you for my lover, for my mate. I want to lay you down and take you to the pinnacles of delight. I want you… even while not knowing if you could ever grant me your favor.” Mentions of her former lover echoed in his mind. Cvareh didn’t actually know if Arianna even took a liking to men. He acted on hope, and her lack of refusal—physical or verbal.
“Will you want me still after I kill your King?”
He chuckled darkly. “I will want you all the more for it.”
“Will you want me if I refuse your sister?”
That demanded consideration. But desire and love and forever were all separate mistresses. And right now, all three were courting him as one combined. “I will want you even then.” His teeth graced the soft flesh of her neck as he spoke.
“Will you want me, even knowing I am a Perfect Chimera?”
The heat in his veins cooled by a small enough margin that he could straighten and look her in the eye, attempting to root out any forced boldness in the claim.
There was none.
The gold blood. Bones strong as steel, as strong as a Dragon’s. Her height. Her muscular structure. It made too much sense to be a lie. She had developed and grown with the strength of Dragon blood coursing through her veins.
“Nothing, Arianna. Nothing in your world or mine, or the next, would make me want you less.”
She grinned, the flat line of her Fenthri teeth showing. “You’re a fool, Cvareh.”
“I am,” he agreed with a grin of his own.
Cvareh closed the gap at last, and found her lips with his. His chest was flush against hers and his thigh pressed between her legs. He held her fingers with white knuckles, as if to hold in place the tension he was struggling to let out only a moment at a time, savored like sips of the most perfect wine, held on the tongue to embolden the flavor.
Her tongue probed his mouth, pressing into his canine. Blood wet his palate. She smothered a groan.
The sound shot straight through him, forcing his hips further into hers. Her magic, her essence, flooded him. The dam holding the tension between them shattered, and Cvareh grasped her hips, pushing her up further against the wall. Claws shredded against the bindings across her thighs and up into the cloth that covered her groin.
Twenty Gods above, restraint be damned. Cvareh would know all there was to know of her before the day was done. And if he was lucky, he would do it again, and again, and again.
28.Petra
“What has you so pleased?” Cain asked from her left. He’d been silent for hours, clearly mulling over something. Petra wondered if the obvious small talk would be enough to bring it forward, because her patience only stretched so far and he was already beginning to pull at it.
“The sun is warm, more Rok blood has been spilled than Xin, Yveun has remained mostly tucked out of sight, and my brother seems to have escaped the Court.” She stretched her fingers, her claws digging into the chair. She’d only had to stand for two people so far, and while that would permit her to excuse herself from the remainder of the Court if she desired, Petra remained. After all the trouble it was to see the Court to daylight, she wasn’t about to step away.
“He seems to have escaped for quite a while,” Cain muttered.
