My fingers trail down her stomach. She jerks at the contact, crying out.
“Thal’vesin,” I remind her. The vines shiver in response to my voice, tightening just enough to remind her she's mine. “Let the cold sink in.”
I drag my hand lower, between her thighs. The temperature change makes her moan—my frigid skin against her burning flesh.
“That’s it,” I praise, watching her in the mirror. “Let me take the heat away. Veyl’kae, virelûn” (You endure so beautifully, little flame of my core.)
I slide one finger through her lunhae, collecting the slick nectar she's dripping for me.
“Kaemorin,” I murmur.
I push my finger inside her slowly. Her body clamps down immediately, trying to pull me deeper.
“Andrik. So?—”
“Too cold?” I ask, stilling.
“No. Don’t stop, please.”
I add a second finger. Her body squeezes me, thawing the frost right off my skin.
“So soft for your Saelûn,” I breathe, dragging my fangs along her pulse. “So warm, little mortal. You bloom around me like you were made for this.”
“Kai’tharae ves’morin.” I rasp. (You’re perfect for me.)
I curl my fingers inside her. Her thighs shake inside mine.
“Andrik, more! I need more.”
“You’re melting for me lûvenkae,” I mumble into her hair, my voice cracking with restraint as I press the tip of my third finger against her entrance, feeling how tightly she pulses, eager but unready.
“Not yet, Saelûn,” I whisper. “I won't break what I cherish.”
“I—I can,” she gasps. “Please, I want you to.”
I hush her with a kiss to her temple.
“That’s it,” I growl, bracing her hips steady as I press the full length of them inside her.
“That’s my thal’kisha,” I murmur, pulling her deeper onto me. “All the way down, veythra. Feel how full you are?”(My unraveling.)
I curl my fingers, stroking over the spot that makes her cry. “You’re gripping me so tight, Saelûn. So greedy. So perfect for me.”
My other hand slides from her hip up to her chest, cupping her breast, thumb grazing over her nipple.
“You feel that?” I whisper, watching the water trickling down her inner thighs. “My ice turns to water for you.”
I thrust my fingers deeper. Her eyes flutter shut.
“No,” I command softly, voice brushing over her ear. “Eyes open. Watch what you do to me.
Her eyes snap open. “That’s it, Lúmina’ka,” I praise. “My little light.”
She’s close—her walls pulse around my fingers, thighs quivering against the vines.
But I’m getting close too. My fangs are aching against my bottom lip. My vision rims in red. The beast claws at my ribs, demanding I claim her now.
Not yet. Not like this.I'd rather die than take her too soon.
