Rey’s smoke thickened, its heat quickly melting away the icy motes of Silla’s light. And then the smoke was changing direction,sliding along her bared arms and leaving pinpricks of heat. With a gasp, Silla writhed away, but—trapped between Rey’s body and his smoke—there was nowhere to go. The press of Rey’s chest to her back sent desire spiraling into her center.
“I was nearly done,” grumbled Rey, mouth directly next to her ear, “but since you cannot keep your galdur to yourself, now you’ll have to suffer the consequences.”
“What consequences?” Silla asked breathlessly as his smoke entwined her wrists.
With a quick twitch of his fingers, Rey’s smoke hauled her up from between his legs and over onto her stomach. Face pressed into the furs, Silla was disoriented as the binds around her wrists pulled upward until her arms were pinned above her head. She managed to turn her head toward Rey and blow some wayward curls away from her face.
Rey had discarded his tunic, revealing an expanse of warm brown skin that contrasted the deep blues of his dragon tattoo. Silla didn’t know where to look first, but her gaze soon fell to where he strained against his breeches.
“Your hair,” warned Rey, “will be mussed.”
His heated look made Silla’s body clench down on empty air. “Make it thorough. Hopelessly tangled.”
“You want that?” he asked dangerously. “To be all tangled up?”
She nodded emphatically, then gasped as his smoke rolled her over once more. Now she lay on her back, wrists twisted over each other. More smoke wrapped around her ankles, wrenching her feet apart and rucking her nightdress up. A delicious shiver rolled through her as Rey crawled closer, then rose up on his knees to examine her splayed form.
She was utterly at his mercy, and the predatory gleam in his eyes told her he knew it, too. But as his ember-bright eyes met her own, Silla saw the question there. They both knew that with her bloodline gift, she could free herself from her binds if she wanted. Yet after weeks of fighting against Myrkur—of refusing to surrender to Him—there was something thrilling in letting Rey take full control.
“Do you want this?” he asked.
Silla nodded before he’d finished speaking, then moaned as the delicious weight of his body sank over hers.
Bracing himself on his elbows, Rey cupped her face and stared down at her, the gold flecks in his eyes blazing with heat. The thin layer of her nightdress separated them, and she shifted, impatient to be rid of it.
“Always so eager,” he mused, the vexing man holding himself still. “Do you want me to take care of you, Sunshine?”
She nodded, squirming against him. The proof of his want was pinned against her stomach and impossible to ignore, but the man had pulled his mask of control into place, and Silla shivered with anticipation. Slowly, he brushed a lock of hair from her face.
“You’ll have to earn it, Silla.”
And then he brought his lips to hers. Rey’s mouth was so soft, his kiss controlled. Gods, but she wanted to shatter his composure—to drive him to wild, reckless abandon—but there was something so freeing in surrendering all control to him.
Her soft whimper drew a grunt of satisfaction from Rey before he drew back. Arms caging her in, he hovered his face just above hers. This close, she could count the dark eyelashes framing his eyes; see the place where she’d nicked him while trimming his beard. A giddy feeling rose up inside her. She adored this man with his glowering looks. The way he took charge. The softness he showed only to her.
“Silla—” he murmured, and she sensed there were words he could not quite give voice to. Rey shook his head, then shifted his weight to the side. His eyes never left hers as a callused finger slid inside her.
“Fuck,” he muttered, so soft she barely heard him.
She canted her hips toward him, desperate to get closer. An irritating smirk pulled up the corners of Rey’s full, beautiful lips. He watched her with such intimacy as his fingers worked inside her, stroking and building her into a panting, writhing mess. Her back arched off the furs, her hands and wrists twisting against her binds, but they were held tightly in place. She was helpless against theonslaught of pleasure—powerless as every muscle in her body seemed to tighten…
Just as his fingers stilled. Pulled free.
“Rey!” she whined as he placed openmouthed kisses all down her throat.
“I told you,” he muttered, teeth scraping along her collarbone, “you’ll have to earn it.”
On he continued his games as the moons climbed higher beyond the windows. Sweat misted her brow, her body aching for release. Finally—finally—he had mercy on her. Silla broke, warm shivers radiating out from her center until they reached every part of her being. Every taut muscle fell lax with satiated relief, and Silla heaved for breath.
As her consciousness slowly came back to her, Silla felt the smoky binds at her ankles expanding up her legs, along her stomach. She whimpered, twisting away from the hot prickles, but as the scent of smoke intensified, she blinked down to see her nightdress burning to cinders before her very eyes. Silla opened her mouth to protest, but it was over before she could make a sound. Rey’s smoke evaporated, though the binds at her wrists and ankles remained.
The smoke at her right ankle pulled up, twisting her over at the hips. Arms pinned above her head and twisted half on her side, Silla had her legs scissored apart. It was obscene to be positioned like this, every inch of her on display, but one look over her shoulder had desire building sharply once more inside her.
On the surface, Rey might look like a man in control. But the little signs said otherwise—the sharp intake of breath; the clench and release of his shoulders.
“I’ve wanted you like this,” he admitted, pushing down his breeches and taking himself in hand, “for a long time, Silla.”
Words had vacated her. There was only the soft, floaty feeling she got when he looked at her like this. The way he couldn’t resist touching himself while looking at her.
