“Why are you being so bashful?” Aziel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers drifting down to her jaw once it was perfectly secured. “Seeing you without that fire in your eyes is unnerving, Moonflower.”
If she managed to laugh, she knew that it would quiver. The truth was that while she was brave and horrifyingly comfortable with him, Nymiria suddenly had no earthly idea what to do with her hands.
She certainly knew her way around a belt buckle and could unbutton a dress shirt with her teeth. She was not some untouched woman, as they both knew. But there was something about the way he looked at her, the way his fingers brushed over the runes on the inside of her wrist that made her forget that there had ever been an intimate moment before this one. Perhaps it was partially fear, she thought. Fear that he would regret marrying her, let alonetouchingher. Once they crossed that threshold and he laid her on that ceremonial bed, there would be no easy way out of this arrangement.
Granted, either of them could leave the other at any point in time, but Nymiria knew that her fragile heart would never be able to beat quite as perfectly as it did with him. There would be no others. If he woke up one morning and decided that she was not worth it, she would be wholly alone in the world.
“Promise you won’t regret marrying me.” She said, finally.
The fingers on her jaw moved lower, dragging down the column of her throat before resting on her shoulder. “I swear on every piece of my blackened soul that I will never regret marrying you, Nymiria. Now, will you try to breathe?”
Was she not breathing? What if this was a mistake? What if they’d done something foolish and none of this ended well for either of them? What if they grew old and fluttered off into the ether together? What if—
“Breathe, Moonflower.” He whispered the words into her hair, his fingers gliding down the center of her back until they reached the shimmering gauze slung around her hips.
The decision to marry had been made so quickly that Nymiria hadn’t had time to think of what could possibly happenafter. She’d hardly had the time to think at all. One moment, Hilla was standing at their door, informing them that Everand had completely taken over Thorn’s palace and the next, she was running through the forest with Aziel, stumbling in through the door of Dieve’s cottage and asking for the witch to marry them.
Dieve didn’t hesitate. She’d rushed Nymiria into the back room of the cottage, stripped her bare and pulled out a sheer, shimmering fabric that was then woven around her body in such an intricate and skilled way that it’d formed a dress. One single tug at the knot on her hip and the entire dress would fall to the floor.
It was customary, she knew, just as the ceremonial bed was customary and an important part of marriages in their culture.And it was that thought, alone, that made the situation feel absolute.
With what little bravery she felt, Nymiria lifted her eyes to his once again, gooseflesh forming on her arms when his fingers began to toy with the knot of fabric on her side. “I won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” He whispered. “If this is too much for you—”
“Don’t be foolish.” She chuckled breathlessly. “I’m just… I’m yourwife.”
The look on his face could have rivaled a look of pain, but she knew otherwise. And when he swallowed, she didn’t miss the small sound of pleasure that managed to wrangle itself loose from inside of him. “Yes, you are.” He smiled, then. And good gods, if she hadn’t already been struggling to breathe properly, that smile would have done the trick. “I’m not certain that I’ve done enough good in my life to deserve you, Nymiria. I might just be the luckiest bastard this side of the universe.”
“You’re happy?”
He nodded. “Are you?”
Curling her fingers around the thin fabric of his tunic, Nymiria nodded. “Very.”
His fingers wove through her own, drawing it close to his chest. He flattened her palm to the pounding organ in his chest, his pupils flaring when she spread her fingers wide. She could feel those wild and ruthless branches shifting away from her touch, retreating just enough to allow her in. “I told you,” he whispered. “It’s yours.”
She felt the moment that fire in her spirit returned. The ruthless and cruel thoughts that lived inside of her mind were silenced, no longer trying to convince her of what she did or did not deserve. Nymiria moved her hand up to the hard line of his jaw, her thumb brushing over the rough line of those silver scars. “Kiss me.”
The warmth of his lips against hers sent a rush of heat through her body, burning away every ounce of residual fear that’d hidden itself in the corners of her soul. His hands pulled her closer, her body flush against his own. Those tender, languorous and sultry kisses turned ravenous the moment her fingers curled into the soft silver strands at the nape of his neck. A rumble of a groan vibrated from within his chest, his fingers flexing against the dip of her spine.
He peeled himself away from her mouth, only for his lips and teeth to take purchase of her neck. Her body shuddered against his, her breaths coming out in soft pants as she threw her head back to allow him more access.
The world around them was a silent blur. She no longer felt the weight of the war, the leering of the danger that awaited them outside of these walls. Even her own war, the one within herself, ceased to exist. The pressure of his lips against her collarbone, the feeling of his hands gripping at and gliding across every part of her body—it was all her mind was able to comprehend.
Nymiria braced her hands on his chest, pushing him back just enough to look at him. The look he gave her rivaled that of a starved beast, his darkened eyes boring into her own, glossy and dazed.
She took a single step forward.
And then another.
And another until the back of his knees knocked against the footpost on the bed. Nymiria pressed her lips to his again, her hands sliding down his chest until her fingers brushed over the cool metal of the buttons on his trousers. His hips twitched forward, the long and thick ridge in his pants jumping with each button that came undone.
When the front parted open, she wasted no time in slipping her fingers into the fabric to grip the pulsing base of his cock. Forcing her mouth from his, she pulled back with a smile.
“Tell me something?”
He made a soft humming sound, eyes dangerously dark and hooded as he peered down at her. “Anything, Moonflower.” Though his voice held no emotion, she could see his restraint in the way his muscles tensed under his tunic.
“When I caught you pleasuring yourself, what were you thinking about?” The left corner of her lips tilted upwards, her eyes gleaming with newfound pride when she moved her hand over his shaft and drew a soft hiss from him.
