He devours me slowly—with every stroke of his tongue, with his body pressed hard against mine, with the scrape of my back against the wall as he takes what he wants.
What webothwant.
When he breaks apart from me, I almost cry out in frustration. That kiss was so fucking good my head is spinning, the room tilting… until he drops to his knees in front of me.
My breath hitches in my throat when his fingers skim my bare legs beneath the slit in the dress. “So… fucking…perfect,” he murmurs, brown eyes locked on mine.
“Wraith,” I mutter—breathily, quietly, reverently. The sound surprises me, and somewhere along the way I realize I’ve forgiven him for everything that’s happened. I want this. No.Needit. I will combust and die right here if he doesn't do something…now.
“Yes, little fox.”
“I need…” I trail off, afraid to ask for what I want.
Wraith doesn’t make me beg, he doesn’t make me ask, he gives without hesitation. His fingers slide higher, removing my lacy thong in one swift motion. He pockets the underwear, before hoisting a leg over his shoulder, burying his face into my wet heat.
I tilt toward him. My fingers knot in his hair before I can stop myself. His tongue flicks mercilessly, hands holding me in place while he devours every inch of me. I grind my hips against his tongue, loving the friction, the way it makes me feel—powerful and in control. He laps at me like a starving man, alternating between feather light strokes, and deeper licks that send tiny shockwaves through my body.Gods,he feels so fucking good!
When he inserts a finger into my core, curling it deliciously, I detonate, stars bursting behind my eyes. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, slapping a hand over my mouth when the moans become too unbearable to hide.
“You taste exactly like I thought you would,” Wraith says, pulling back from me, rising to his feet, and righting me all in one motion.
My knees still feel weak, and I hate that he knows it. He offers me his hand, the faintest smirk ghosting across his lips when I take it. His fingers linger a beat too long before he lets go.
“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice rough but steady again. “We’ve still got things to find before Rook decides to send a search party.”
“Right,” I breathe, trying to sound casual, like my world hasn’t just tilted off its axis.
I smooth the dress down, my skin still tingling everywhere he touched, and step out into the boutique again. The music feels louder now—something soft and romantic that makes it worse. The clerk glances up, smiling politely, completely unaware of what just happened behind that door.
Wraith leads the way toward the front of the shop, his hand brushing the small of my back as we move. It’s protective… or possessive. I can’t tell which. Maybe both.
We stop at a display of jewelry near the counter. Gold and emeralds gleam under the lights, reflecting back in the green silk of my dress. Wraith studies me for a moment, then plucks a delicate necklace from the stand—a fine chain with a single stone, surrounded by tiny glittering diamonds that catch the light like a captured flame.
“It suits you,” he says simply.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He hands it to the clerk before I can argue. “Add it to the purchase.”
I want to tell him no—that I don’t need him to buy me anything—but the words don’t come. Because maybe I want to keep something from this moment, even if it’s just a piece of glass pretending to be precious.
Once everything’s bagged, he takes the parcels and gestures toward the door. Outside, the evening’s turned damp again, the city’s pulse echoing through the wet streets. The car waits at the curb, headlights glowing against the drizzle.
I slide into the seat, the soft rustle of tissue paper filling the silence between us. Wraith joins me, setting the bags in the back and gripping the wheel. The tension from earlier still hums beneath the surface, too alive to ignore, too dangerous to touch again.
“You should get some rest when we get back,” he says quietly. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long night.”
“Dinner with all of you usually is,” I agree.
That earns the faintest smirk. “You’re not wrong.”
The drive back to the townhouse is silent except for the rain. London blurs past in streaks of gold and gray, and I can’t tell ifthe warmth spreading through my chest is from the heater—or him.
When we pull into the drive, Wraith kills the engine but doesn’t move. For a moment, we just sit there, the quiet thick enough to drown in. He finally turns to me, eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. “Thank you for today, Ember.”
He doesn't say the rest, but I feel it all the same…For not hating me, for what I did.
