I took that as an invitation. I lifted myself to my tiptoes, trusting Garrick’s solid form to keep me upright, and pressed my lips against his.
His lips were as soft as I’d imagined. But gods, he tasted so much better. There was the cinnamon that always lingered, tinged with the burning remnants of the liquor he’d been drinking earlier. But the taste of him, the unique combination of spice and sweat and heat… I could not get enough of it on my tongue.
I curled my hands against his chest, gripping the leather of his vest around the lines of blades that he wore strapped against it.
The contrast of his soft lips with the urgent demand of his mouth sent my malleable mind spinning. I needed the next swipe of his tongue more than I needed air. I welcomed that bold touch inside of my own mouth, granting him access without a second thought. My only regret was that I’d waited so long, denied myself for so long, when we should have been doing this from the beginning. I should have taken Garrick the Red to my bed that first night before the Mercy Gate?—
“We need to stop, witch.”
How dare he take his mouth away from mine.
“Or we could keep going.” I tugged on his vest, but he did not move, holding himself just far enough away that I could not reach him without his consent. Or without wrapping my legs around his waist and attempting to climb him.
Garrick’s eyes flicked over my shoulder. “In front of your familiar…” Isanara made an indignant sound. “And the entire tavern?”
I’d forgotten about both of them. For once, Isanara had stayed well out of my mind. And as for the rest of the tavern… they were as lost to my spell as I was.
“We have two rooms,” I reminded him, settling back onto my feet. Isanara could take one. We’d take the other. “What foresight.”
Isanara hissed.“If you think I am letting you out of my sight with your mind in shambles?—”
I tried to erect that wall of ice between us, but my drink-addled brain could not manage it. I turned my face up to Garrick, writing all of my desire into my face. I slid my hips forward, pressing against him suggestively. He was hard, and though it was difficult to judge precisely through so many layers of clothing, the impressive length of him had a surge of wetness pooling between my legs.
But instead of appreciating the fact that I was rubbing myself up against him like a cat in heat, Garrick released his hold on my waist. He caught my shoulders with his hands, while my body screamed at the loss of his touch where I wanted it most.
“Koryn.” His voice shook. My eyes flew open, the weight of his tone permeating my lust and alcohol fogged mind. “When I take you to bed, you will be in full possession of your mind. You will remember every moment clearly, because I will not take you in a drink-addled haze. When you beg for me to make you come, I want you to mean it with every fiber of your glorious being.”
My mouth fell open.
Garrick swore in that foreign tongue.
“Get her to bed,”Isanara snapped.
I tried to tell her that Garrick could not hear the words she spoke into my mind. But she must have gotten her meaning across just fine, because the next thing I knew, the world went horizontal, and Garrick the Red carried me upstairs.
CHAPTER 52
I could have slept foreverwith his warm body pressed up against mine. I did not remember taking off my gown. More upsettingly, I did not remember him taking off my gown. But curled in the warmth of the bed, the fire crackling, and Isanara snoring softly by the hearth, I was ready to make a memory I would be able to recall.
Garrick curled his arm around me, drawing my backside flush against him. Even asleep, I could feel the hard length of him nestled between the cleft of my bottom. Slumber became less and less appealing by the moment. I lifted my right thigh, the one resting on top, and slid it backward over his calf to increase the pressure of his cock against me. The hand he’d draped around my waist tightened on my stomach, holding the rounded, soft curve like it was too precious to possibly let go.
I arched into him, hungry for the heat of his breath on my throat?—
I leapt from the bed, dislodging Garrick’s arm with a heavy thump on the mattress and a mumbled curse. Isanara’s claws dug into the wooden floor as she jolted awake. The bed frame creaked under Garrick’s shifting weight. But all of those soundsfaded into nothing as my awareness honed in on the one that had dragged me from my languid fantasies.
For a moment, I thought I’d imagined it. But then the door creaked again.
I blasted it open, the force of the frost slamming the door into the wall and then freezing it in place.
I wanted to see the attacker who was foolish enough to come for me, a frost witch of the Midnight Coven, Lifebind of the notorious bounty hunter Garrick the Red, conqueror of four Gates, and chosen by the dragon Isanara.
The firelight reflected off of wine-red hair.
I did not stop to analyze how he’d gotten through a door lined with three heavy metal locks. I didn’t think at all. I felt. I felt my power rising to defend me and mine. My body began to move, slipping into the choreographed maneuvers that Garrick had drilled into me for weeks and weeks.
My belt was long gone, but I found the knife already in my hand. It had been tucked beneath my pillow. I threw myself at Nash. He’d lost the element of surprise and he did not know the contours of the room. He knew I was a witch, but he understood none of the nuances of my power, nor had he seen the hours I’d spent training with Garrick.
Once, he would have had an advantage. Now, I would punish him for being arrogant enough to ignore both Garrick and my warnings.
