"Come for me," he commanded, his voice rough. "Let me feel it."
The warmth in her chest exploded outward as she shattered, golden light flooding through her, through him, binding them together in waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever. She felt him follow her over the edge, felt him pulse inside her as he buried his face against her neck, his whole body shaking with the force of his release.
They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard, the warmth settling between them like a living thing.
When he finally moved, it was only to roll them so she was draped across his chest, his arms wrapped around her with possessive care. His hand stroked through her hair, gentle now, all the desperate violence drained away.
"You're not allowed to almost die again," he said against her hair. "Or walk toward borders in your sleep. Or let other princes kiss you."
Despite everything, she felt her lips quirk. "I'll try to avoid all of that."
"See that you do." His arms tightened around her. "Because I'm not letting you go. Not to Malus, not to Arion, not to anyone. You're mine, and I keep what's mine."
Chapter twenty-four
She woke to warmth and the soft light of early morning filtering through the windows. For a moment, she just lay there, taking inventory. Her body ached in ways that had nothing to do with Malus or failed bargains. The pleasant soreness of being thoroughly claimed.
Eliam's hand was tracing idle patterns across her stomach, his chest warm against her back. She could tell by his breathing that he'd been awake for a while.
“Good morning,” she said, closing her eyes again, content to lay wrapped in his arms.
"I was… too eager last night," he murmured, lips brushing against her ear, his voice still rough from sleep.
She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him, confused. "What?"
"Rushed. Desperate." His hand slid lower, fingers spreading across her hip possessively. Briar felt her heart skip in her chest. "I only made you come once and then took what I needed like some untried boy with no control."
Briar didn’t know what to make of the admission and felt warmth creeping into her cheeks. "Oh… it’s… fine."
"Don’t. You deserve better." He shifted, rolling her onto her back, settling over her with deliberate slowness. The morning light painted his features in soft gold, and she could see the intensity in his eyes. "You deserved to be worshipped. Taken apart slowly."
His hand moved between her thighs, fingers ghosting over her with maddening lightness, not quite touching where she was already starting to ache for him.
"At least three or four times," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "Maybe more. Until you're shaking and oversensitive and begging me to stop." His fingers finally made contact, the barest brush against her center. "That's what you deserved."
"Eliam—"
"So that's what you're getting now." He shifted down her body, his mouth finding her breast, teeth closing around her nipple with enough pressure to make her gasp. His hand between her legs remained still, just resting there, a promise of what was coming.
He took his time with her breasts, alternating between gentle suction and sharp bites, never quite giving her what she needed. When he finally moved lower, pressing kisses along her ribs, her stomach, she was already breathing hard.
But he didn't go where she wanted, instead, his mouth found the inside of her thigh, high up where the skin was sensitive, and he bit down. Not gently. Hard enough that she cried out, hard enough to leave a mark that would last days.
"Mine," he said against the reddening skin, then bit the other thigh just as hard.
Her hands twisted in the sheets as he worked his way higher, marking her inner thighs with bruises and teeth marks, each one a declaration of ownership. By the time his breath finally ghosted over her center, she was trembling, desperate for his mouth on her.
He made her wait.
His tongue traced along the crease where her thigh met her body, then the other side, deliberately avoiding where she needed him. When she tried to shift her hips, to guide him where she wanted, his hands clamped down on her thighs, holding her in place.
"Stay still," he commanded, his voice muffled against her skin. "Or I'll stop entirely and leave you like this."
Briar forced herself to do as he said, though every muscle in her body was taut with need. Finally, his tongue dragged up her center in one long, slow stroke that had her back arching off the bed.
Then he stopped and she whimpered in frustration.
“This isn’t worship,” she gasped. “This is torture.”
