“And if I accept?”
“Then you’re mine.” I almost snarl the words, then check myself. “Mine like the Guard is mine. In a way that can never be broken.” It’s the truth, yet it’s also a lie. She would be mine in ways the Guard could never be.
“I …”
“There’s time. The magic is still weaving around you. You don’t have to make a choice today. But … You’re no longer nothing more than a human who should pay for the sins of your kind. And I …” I shake my head. “You chose to stay.”
Her eyes track over my face, then she nods, her hand resting over my heart. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer.
“You should sleep.” I lighten my voice. “I have it on good authority that the fae training you in the morning has a deadly aim with pebbles.”
FORTY-SEVEN
ALLERIA
I wakeup to the most incredible feeling. For a moment, I can’t figure out what is happening. My mind is still foggy with sleep, and it takes my brain a moment to catch up with what my body is telling me.
There’s warmth between my thighs, a hand spread across my stomach, and a sensation that’s pulling me from the depths of dreams into?—
His tongue moves, finding the spot that makes my back arch up, and I gasp awake. Cairn is between my thighs. The blankets have been pushed aside, leaving me naked in the pale morning light.
“Good morning.” His lips move against my skin.
I try to answer. What comes out is closer to a moan.
He laughs, low and dark, and runs his tongue over me again. Slower this time. Tracing patterns over me, circling the place I need him most without ever quite touching it. My fingers find his hair and grip, trying to guide him, but he resists.
“Patience.”
“I don’t—” My breath hitches as he gets close,soclose, then pulls back. “I don’t have any patience. Please, Cairn.”
“Please what?”
I’d tell himexactlywhat if I could form words, but his tongue finally,finally, finds its target, and my thoughts scatter. He builds me up with maddening precision, knowing what makes me gasp, what makes me writhe, and what makes my thighs tighten around his head. Every time I get close, he eases back, leaving me to hover at the edge without falling over.
“You’re doing this on purpose!”
He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, his breath warm against my skin. “I like watching you fall apart.”
“Then let me!”
“Not yet.”
His mouth returns to me, and I stop trying to argue. There’s no point. He’s going to take his time, and I’m going to let him, because the frustration feels good when he’s the one causing it.
The pleasure builds again, slower now,deeper. His hands hold my hips in place when I try to move, controlling the rhythm, controllingeverything, and I’m shaking by the time he decides I’ve had enough.
He doesn’t warn me. He just changes the rhythm, pressing harder and faster, and I shatter with a cry that echoes off the walls. The pleasure crashes through me in waves. He doesn’t stop until I’m pushing weakly at his shoulders, oversensitive and trembling.
He presses one last kiss to my thigh and crawls up my body, settling his weight over me. I can feel him hard against my hip. I can see the want in his eyes. But he doesn’t push into me. Instead, he looks at me, his hand coming up to brush the hair back from my face.
“You’re very loud.”
My face heats. “I amnot.”
“Oh, but you are.” He’s smiling, a rare half-smile that transforms his face. “I considered gagging you, but I like hearing the sounds you make too much.”
I pinch his side before I really think about it, and he catches my hand, pressing a kiss to each of my fingers before letting it go. Then he leans down and kisses me properly. I taste myself on my lips, and the intimacy of it makes heat curl low in my stomach all over again. I hook my leg around his hips, trying to pull him into me, wanting more.
