Chapter 55
Cathal
Zendaya bites her lower lip, denting the flesh that’s still reddened by my kisses. I’m tempted to scale her body and force her teeth off her pretty mouth before she injures it, but I also sense a kiss won’t blow her torment away. I’m uncertain how she’ll react if our broken bond doesn’t mend. The only thing I’m certain of is that I’ll yearn for this woman until my last breath. Every part of her.
I place a kiss on the inside of her thigh, then higher, on her bare, glistening cunt that smells like honeysuckle floating atop the ocean, floral with a hint of brine. In truth, I don’t remember how she tasted before, only that I’d loved every lick and swallow. I curl my tongue to slot it deeper, noting that this hasn’t changed. She still tastes like the most delectable treat, one I plan to spend an inordinate amount of time feasting on. She clutches my hand so hard that her nails dig into my skin. One glimpse of them and my painfully hard cock swells up some more.
When she begins to rattle, rubbing her body quicker against my tongue, I hold still, making sure the flat of it remains at the perfect angle and within reach.
Thatis certainly different. Though Crows do rattle to attract their mate’s attention, not only do our bodies not blur, but it lasts a mere heartbeat. Serpents, I’ve come to discover, can barely cease rattling. I found Zendaya captivating when she was only Shabbin, but now, she’s become another level of fascinating. Goddess below, I cannot fucking wait to see how she will feel wrapped around my cock.
The friction of her body against my mouth has her detonating far too soon. After she screams my name and creams my tongue, I place languid kisses around her drenched slit, giving her time to calm before the next climax. Which, again, surges through her far too quickly.
“Cathal…I don’t…I can’t…” Her forearm is draped across her eyes, her bright hair a tangled mess, her thighs chafed crimson by my beard.
I make a note to trim it. “Just one more.” I thumb her apart and barely nip at her throbbing, swollen bud before her spine arches and she bastes my tongue.
Like promised, I stop tormenting her and climb back up her sweat-slicked curves. “I understand why everyone…” She inhales deeply, which makes her nipples drag across my chest. “Is doing this.”
“Doingthis?”
“Laying together”—a second deep breath—“naked.”
Between the press of her nipples, the scrape of her nails which she’s now spiraling up my biceps, and the taste of her, I’m two point one seconds away from blowing my load. I need a release before penetrating her or she’ll find the act massively underwhelming. I’m about to head to the ensuite bathroom when her body goes stiff beneath mine.
I check her eyes, assuming the Cauldron has whisked her away again—another thing that’s going to require some getting used to—but they haven’t gone white with magic. When shesucks in a breath, I realize she must be mind-speaking with her Serpents.
Though I’d have preferred they didn’t intrude, I have to admit their timing isn’t too dreadful. If they’d tried to contact her before, I may have hunted them down.
“What is it?” I ask softly.
“Behati and Kanti’s ship has reached the western wall. They’re demanding entry.”
“Turn them away,” I say, peeling myself off her to hunt down my shirt.
“On what grounds? The Mahananda communicates with Behati, Cathal. If she were wicked, it would stop.”
“Perhaps, it did.” I yank the black fabric over my head, then hook on my armor. The day the Cauldron offered to break our obsidian curse, I’d had such high hopes to retire the heavy metal plating my chest. “Ask it.” I don’t bother with the vambraces, which I only wear to keep my shirt sleeves from ripping. Now that I live in the land of sorceresses where snags and tears can be mended with drops of blood, I’ve no more use for them.
“It’s resting.”
It’s always fucking resting. If only we two-legged mortals and immortals possessed such a luxury, but no. There’s no rest for the lot of us. Never has been and never will be. Especially now that my mate’s queen.
Yes, my mate. Whether preordained or not, we’re mates, and from this moment on, I’ll refer to her as such.
“Who contacted you to tell you of their presence in Shabbin waters?”
“Enzo. He’s fording up one of the Sahklare as we speak.”
“On a ship, I hope.”
“I think one tendu encounter was enough to last him a lifetime.” She’s refastened the ties of her dress that bears a wet spot under her ass.
I should mention it. I really should; but I’m the maker of that wet spot. Besides, since the fabric is slightly pleated, it’s only noticeable if one focuses on her backside. If I catch any gaze straying there?—
“Cathal?”
“Hmm.”
