Cecilia’s kiss was a bomb blast.
It knocked him down to his foundations and leveled all that he thought he knew. Whatever that first gentle touch in the alley had done to him, it was nothing compared to a kiss freely given.
Cecilia handled him like he was made of glass. Her hands were gentle when they held his jaw, supporting him and guiding him to turn one way, then the other. Her lips were as smooth as silk. They glided over his, occasionally accompanied by the brush of a hot, wet tongue. It wasn’t just lust that roared through the empty landscape left by her cataclysm but a tenderness so sharp it was agony.
Sloane clutched her waist and nearly lifted her off the ground. He pressed his mouth against hers again and again, increasingly desperate for more, foreverything. His lungs burned as he fought the natural impulse to suck in deep breaths of her, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring him to her as sweet kisses melted into a frenzy. A strangled, breathless purr shook his chest. When her lips parted, he didn’t think twice about dipping his tongue inside.
Sweetness exploded on his tongue and instinct snapped its jaws around his throat.
Sloane didn’t make the conscious decision to throw himself backward. It just happened. One moment he was snaking his tongue into the delicious well of her mouth and the next he crouched in the scrubby grass at the very edge of the cliff, his claws stuck deep in the earth and his chest heaving with frantic breaths.
Cecilia leaned against the Battery’s wall of windows, her palms pressed into the glass. She was wide-eyed and panting, her knees pressed together in a way that made it seem like she had trouble standing.
For several taut moments, they simply stared at each other.
“Come back,” she commanded, voice husky with what he realized was desire.
Desperate to get his bearings, he tried to focus on the call of seabirds and the crash of waves beneath him. “I almost lost control,” he gasped.
Cecilia straightened against the glass. “But you didn’t.”
He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. “Kissing you is… overwhelming.”
A look of concern flashed across her face when she asked, “In a bad way? We can stop.”
“No,” he barked, claws flexing in the sandy soil. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to ever, ever stop.”
She squared her shoulders. Even from a distance, he could see the determined gleam in her eyes. Had he once thought she was made of cotton fluff and sugar? His consort was far, farbolder than him. Something in her was fearless — a warrior’s spirit disguised by pink glitter and blunt claws.
“Then come back here,” she ordered again. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
He’d always thought he was smart. At the very least, he was the best at what he’d been trained to do.
But Cecilia had made him into a fool. Every bit of training, every shred of restraint, and all good sense disappeared when she beckoned him near.
Sandy soil and bits of grass fell from his claws as he stood up from his crouch. Sloane’s chest sawed as he took in ragged breaths. Every step was a struggle — not because he didn’t want to be close to her but because all he wanted to do was cross the distance between them at a sprint.
It was a thing of his wildest dreams, seeing her open her arms to him in the glow of sunset.
“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life,” she whispered, fingers curling into his kit as soon as he was close enough. Tugging him against her, she continued, “Seriously, Sloane, it didn’t even occur to me that you’d be— Good gods, no wonder you have to hide behind a helmet. You’d be swamped if you left the house without one.”
Even with the strong breeze blowing her scent toward the Battery, he didn’t dare risk opening his mouth to reply. Not that he would’ve known what to say to that. He was just glad his face appeared to please her. And it wasn’t like she needed him to talk, anyway. Cecilia barely stopped to breathe before she started up again.
“Not that what you look like matters, obviously. I mean, I liked you before. I just didn’t think you would be so… so…this.”Cecilia yanked his kit, urging him to bend so she could more closely examine his face. He imagined he saw stars sparkling inher big doe eyes when she traced his cheeks, jaw, and brow with the tips of her fingers.
In a voice he’d never heard before, she noted, “You have such a kind face, Sloane. And such sad, sad eyes.”
No one had ever orwouldever say something as absurd as that to him except his Cece. That painful tenderness slid between his ribs as cleanly as the obsidian knife he’d given her — the very same one he’d used to execute his cruelest trainer when word reached them of Thaddeus’s execution.
The wind buffeted his back as he swooped down on her like a bird of prey. Cecilia gasped into his lips when he pressed her back against the glass. Her arms draped over his shoulders and her fingers dove into his hair. They knotted the strands, tugging sharply as she gave as good as she got.
He had no idea what he was doing, but it didn’t seem to matter. Cecilia made soft sounds of approval when he hoisted her up by her ass and squeezed himself between her legs. Her tongue snaked out to lap at his mouth, seeking a way in despite the threat of his fangs. Powerless to deny her anything, he parted his lips and braced himself for the taste of her.
He wasn’t normally a fan of sweet things. Elves were carnivores, so even small amounts of sugar in drinks or flavored meats tended to be more than many could handle. Some, like Cesare, seemed to take masochistic pleasure in torturing themselves with foul desserts, but Sloane wasn’t one of them.
Cecilia was the exception.
