“I don’t hate you,” I whisper.
“And I love that.”
The warmth in my chest unfurls entirely. I open my mouth, but I’m not as brave as he is. Not as ready to put words to the feelings in my heart. I want to tell him that I love everything about him too. I don’t love that he hurt me, but I love that he admits to his wrongs. That he takes responsibility for them without making excuses, without trying to justify his darkest actions. I love that he cares about me. That he protects me. That he feels these things for me, even though we should be enemies.
But I can’t bring myself to say the words, and he doesn’t ask me to. Doesn’t demand I say them back. I love that about him too. Instead, I pour all my tangled feelings into another kiss. Finally, we start to move again. I rock my hips, and he moves with me, filling me deeper, igniting a fire both inside and out. He grasps me tight against him, his face buried in my neck. Ecstasy buzzes through me as I throw my head back, eyes half open. For a moment, I’m startled to find not the ceiling of the gazebo overhead, but an ink-black sky streaked with pink, green, blue, and purple.
I know what’s happening—our arousal is fueling my magic—and it doesn’t give me pause. Instead, it doubles my desire. Triples it. And Thorne seems to feel it too. We waltz beneath my dreamscape, our bodies writhing in tandem. Pleasure builds, higher and higher, and my illusion grows brighter. The rippling tendrils of color no longer hover above us but instead weave all around, dancing over our naked flesh, reflecting in Thorne’s beautiful eyes.
His lips part with a final moan, and I swallow it in a kiss, my release unraveling with his. The last vestiges of pleasure undulate between us, rippling like the colors that flow around our bodies. And even after we’re still and spent, the dreamscape doesn’t fade. It remains as bright as the warmth in my heart, the emotions flooding my soul.
39
THORNE
Briony’s dreamscape remains around us for at least ten minutes before fading away. Without a stitch of clothing on my body, much less a pocket watch, I count the passage of time in heartbeats, not minutes. For all I know an hour has passed and has simply felt too short.
In the wake of our pleasure, we’ve rearranged the pillows, propping them against the side of the lounge to create a makeshift seat. Neither of us has the energy to sit upon the lounge itself or in either of the chairs, so I recline half upright against the pillows and Briony reclines against me, her back to my chest, the top of her head just under my chin.
I inhale deeply, breathing her in. She smells of sweat-slicked skin and mountain air, perhaps something sweet and floral too. It’s a scent that was always missing from the dreams we shared, but now it fills my senses.Shefills my senses. The feel of her flush against me, the softness of her hair, the sound of her breathing, now mellow after the hard panting, the tantalizing whines and moans I elicited from her. I can hardly believe she’s here at all.
Like this.
With me.
I’ve held myself back all this time. Because of our families. Because of Monty. And most of all, because I don’t deserve her. But after we talked about deserving to be cared for and she bullied me into accepting that the principle applies to me too, my resolve to resist her crumbled. And when she stated she wanted me. Needed me.
I stiffen against her at the memory. The way she looked when she said those words, full lips parted, chest heaving, chemise slipping from her shoulders…
A sound, almost like a growl, rumbles in my chest, but I try to pretend I was simply clearing my throat. Briony angles her head to meet my eyes. My lips curl in an idiotic smile. How can they not when she looks at me like that? No animosity, only the sweetest hint of taunting.
“What is this place, anyway?” she asks. “Your secret lovemaking lair? Is this where you take all the women you try to seduce?”
The words sound nonchalant but there’s a sharp angle in the line of her jaw, the slight narrowing of her eyes. Is she…trying to ascertain whether I have other lovers? I could answer her honestly, but where would be the fun in that?
“You saytry, but I have a one hundred percent success rate at seducing every woman I’ve brought here.”
Her nostrils flare. With a huff, she starts to sit, but I encircle her waist and pin her in place. Bringing my lips beside her ear, I whisper, “Because you’re the only woman I’ve ever brought here, Briony Rose.”
She stiffens, then relaxes against me once more. I keep my arms around her waist and begin drawing circles with one hand over the soft curve of her stomach. Her skin pebbles beneath my touch. “Why would you tease me like that?”
I kiss the top of her head. “Why wouldn’t I? You think just because I’ve had your body, I no longer want your ire? I meant it when I said I love the way you hate me. Even when that hate isn’t hate. Even when it’s just a spark of your beautiful anger. I still intend to treasure every bit of rage you fling my way.”
“Well, good, because I have plenty to spare where you’re concerned—when you tease me.” She adds the last part in a rush which tells me the first was at risk of being a lie. “So what is this placereally?”
“When I was younger, it was more of a playhouse,” I explain. “Father and Alina gifted it to me as a place to get away when I needed to be alone. If I felt my magic flaring and needed to shift, I could come here. As a young boy, that wasn’t uncommon, especially when my emotions got the better of me. Grief. Longing. Simply aging out of adolescence. There used to be curtains lining the outside, so I could safely shift without anyone on the estate seeing me. I still utilize it for that purpose, for the servants are used to avoiding this area by now. When I want to fly, I come here first and shift far from the manor.”
She angles her head again to look at me. “You shifted at the manor tonight, though.”
I smile down at her. “Yes, but that was an emergency.”
“An emergency,” she echoes with a scoff. “Me being sad was an emergency?”
“It was, and I knew you’d change your mind if I made you come here first. The only way I could get you up there with me was if I stole you straight from your room. I was right, though, wasn’t I? It was worth it.”
“Yes,” she whispers, draping an arm behind her to caress the side of my neck. “For more reasons than the view.”
My chest pulses with a sensation so soft and bright, it’s almost painful. I want to flip her over until we’re chest to chest and kiss her again. I want to bury myself in her and make her moan in ecstasy.
