No, I can’t bear it. I can’t let him leave. “Aspen.” The name rings out with power, and that bridge spans between us in my mind’s eye.
He whirls back toward me, his gaze as sharp as a dagger’s edge. “Don’t you dare,” he says through his teeth.
I burn him with a fiery glare. “By the power of your true name, don’t walk away from me. Come back to me right now.”
His shoulders tense, arms rippling with rage, but he’s powerless against the command. With pounding footsteps, he returns to me, stopping just inches away. “How dare you use my name like this. I thought we—”
I crane my neck to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”
“And this is supposed to help?”
I tilt my chin up. “Kiss me.”
He narrows his eyes. “This is hardly the time for that.”
Magic dances on my lips, emitting the power of our Bond. “Kiss me,” I repeat, louder this time. “That’s not a request. It’s a command.”
His mouth presses hard on mine, almost painfully so. I can feel his anger as if it were my own, and I meet it with mine, kissing him equally as firm until we both break away with a gasp for air. Then his lips are back on mine, the pressure still fierce, but with a more yielding quality. His hands slide down my shoulders, helping me shrug out of my coat. I tear the belted obsidian blade from my waist as one of his hands moves into my hair, the other down my back. After tossing the belt on the floor, my arms wrap around his waist, pressing him hard against me as if we could melt into one another.
His kisses are like fire, my lips an inferno as he burns against me. My mouth parts, and his tongue moves against mine, sending a wave of pleasure through my core, igniting heat between my thighs. His lips part from mine only to carve a trail of fire along my jaw and down my neck where they pause at the high lace collar of my gown.
“Evie,” he whispers against my neck, the feel of his breath making me shudder against him. I can’t tell if there’s a command in the word or not, but I don’t care either way. “Take off your dress.”
I rake my fingers through his hair, paying no heed to his unwashed state. I press a kiss to his forehead, then his temple, until I reach the lobe of his ear. My teeth graze it, before I say, “Take it off for me.”
At that, he spins me around. I brace my hands on the table as he rips the buttons free at the back of the gown. “I hate this dress,” he says as the back opens. He slides the dress down my back and over my hips, and I step out of it. He gathers the black and white satin in his hands and tosses it onto the table. Then his fingers skate over the laces of my corset. One hand moves over my stomach while he brings his lips to my shoulder. I close my eyes and turn my head to let his kisses move to my neck, his body pressed close behind me. “How do I get you out of this thing?” he whispers.
I brace my hands steadier on the table as my knees threaten to give way beneath me, his breath on my skin unbearably pleasurable. “The laces in the back,” I manage to say.
The hand on my stomach moves up the front of the rigid corset and over my chest where the tops of my breasts strain against the starchy linen. “I don’t think I have the patience for that.”
“Then rip the damn thing off already,” I say. “I never want to wear it again.”
That’s all the permission he needs before both hands come to the bodice of the corset and tear it in two. I gasp with relief and can’t help but laugh. “It’s just like in the novels.” I reach an arm behind me to grasp the back of Aspen’s neck.
“What kinds of novels have you been reading?” His hands move over my bare skin, his palms warm against my naked flesh. I arch my back as he teases the crest of my breast with his thumb.
“The wrong kind, apparently,” I say. In all honesty, it was Amelie who read the romantic stories, and I laughed at the few I tried to read. I was always more interested in academic literature. But why am I thinking about books when the real thing is right here? Aspen’s thumb continues to elicit the most delectable sensations, while his free hand moves down, over my hips, my thighs, then to the place between them.
I return both hands to the top of the table, a moan escaping my lips. Despite the desire stirring inside me, I need more of him to fully quench it. I whirl toward him, dragging his mouth to mine, my fingers reaching for the waistband of his trousers. Before I can free the top button, his hand moves to my waist, lifting me until I’m propped on the table. With agonizingly slow kisses, he leans me back until my bare skin is fully upon my discarded dress he’d tossed there. I reach for his trousers again, but he intercepts my hands, pinning them over my head as his lips leave mine to trail down my neck. Then his mouth moves lower, across my chest, his tongue trailing over each mound, then further down to my ribs, my stomach, my hips.
I gasp as his lips continue even farther down, resting at the apex of my thighs. My body tenses at the unexpected caress of his tongue. As he elicits the most euphoric pleasure, the tenseness leaves every muscle and I succumb to the devious spell Aspen has put me under. The sensations reach an impossible crescendo. I arch my back and gasp. I’m limp and shuddering by the time Aspen’s lips return to mine.
He pulls away, and our eyes lock. He brushes my hair from my sweat-soaked forehead as he catches his breath. “I love you, Evie. You devious, reckless creature.”
My stomach sinks despite his passionate words, considering they seem to hint that our pleasure is over. “Not so fast,” I say, voice trembling. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Again, I reach for his trousers, but this time it’s a sound that stops me—the throne room door opening.
“Is this what I left the two of you alone to do?” calls Nyxia’s exasperated voice.
Aspen goes still over me, and I’m suddenly grateful one of us has kept their clothes on, as well as the fact that I’m fairly certain I’m hidden mostly from view by Aspen’s form.
“I know from experience that this table works wonders for such activities,” Nyxia says, voice dripping honey, “but it’s mine. Go spread your passions all over your new palace and get off my damn furniture.”
At the sound of the door shutting, Aspen and I burst into stifled laughter. “I suppose we should get you back in that dress.” Aspen caresses my cheek with his thumb, which only reminds me of what his thumb was doing not minutes ago.
I find my hips moving beneath him, the heat returning to my core. “Can’t we—”
