“I know you no longer trust your father, nor should you, after what he kept from you. From Kael.”
My hand froze, though it remained in place.
“I know you feel trapped between your allegiance to him and your duty to those who follow you, expecting you to do what’s best for Gyoria. I’m only asking you to come with me. Speak to your brother. Hear the truth and decide for yourself on the best path forward.”
I know you no longer trust your father.
He wasn’t the only one I no longer trusted.
“Open your mouth, Lyra.”
Finally, a reaction. Her eyes widened. At my command? Or her body’s reaction to it? The second, more likely. Even immortals could learn something new about themselves.
She paused.
Then parted her lips.
I slipped my finger inside. This time, she didn’t have to be told. Lyra closed her lips around me as I pulled gently and then pushed it back into the sweet warmth of her mouth. Hardening immediately at the sight of her, the feel of her mouth on me as I imagined so much more… pulling from her, I used my finger to trace her lips.
“Is your mouth the only thing wet, Lyra?”
Her shoulders rose and fell.
“Tell me,” I said, in the last tone I’d expect Lyra to respond to, but one I’d learned she would.
For me.
“No.”
That one simple word was all it took for my control to snap. Done imagining her hair between my fingers, I reached out and made it happen. Fisting it and pulling her toward me, our mouths crashed together and neither of us hesitated.
Whimpering as I held her head firmly in place, Lyra grabbed the material of my tunic on both arms, holding tight. Slanting for better access, I thrust my tongue inside her mouth, demanding without words she do the same.
Melding together perfectly, I forgot to demand, taking what I wanted instead. Lyra gave it freely, our tongues tangling in a kiss that ensured I’d never be the same. When I tightened my grip on her hair, the sound deep in Lyra’s throat threatened to make me lose control.
No longer the icy Aetherian Shadow Diplomat, Lyra gave herself to the kiss with an abandon only hinted at, but one that made me want to consume her.
And I might have if the knock at my door hadn’t interrupted us.
I pulled away, somehow shocked at the sight of her. One I’d never forget.
The always assured, collected Lyra, her lips swollen from our kiss, hair tangled from my grip, didn’t appear repentant, sorry for the mistake of kissing me.
Submitting to me.
Instead, she stood before me, head high, daring me to…
To go with her.
I’d spent centuries letting others decide what loyalty meant. Maybe it was time I did, too.
“Terran.”
It was Dren.
“Stay aside until I’m assured he’s alone,” I said, making my way, regrettably, toward the door.
She did immediately, her warrior’s training taking precedence over everything. Including that kiss.
