Her eyes shut, and her mouth falls open on a sharp breath.
“Fuck.”
I don’t know which of us says it. I also don’t care. Instinct thunders through me. To please her, to fill this gods-damned cavern with her moans. I ache to pull her forward, kiss her,tasteher, this time without any pretense other than desire. Gods, I want her. I want her beneath me, arms pinned above her head as I draw wicked circles on her flesh with my tongue. I want to hear her grovel, beg, as she takes my cock. I want those pretty lips on mine. I want that pink hair fisted in my hand.
So does she.
The cord blackens with longing. Brutal, savage need. My muscles tighten with restraint, and my dick hardens, pushing painfully against my trousers.
“We shouldn’t,” I say.
“I know,” she agrees.
But neither of us moves, and that’s going to be a problem soon because my control is shattering by the second. I lift our hands,brushing my lips against her knuckles. The cord pulsates in turn with hot, wet lust.
“It’s the—the life debt,” she explains, her throat bobbing with effort as she glances down at my cock.
“Are you sure?”
“No.” She smiles—triesto smile, but it’s trembling and sensual and desperate. “But we probably shouldn’t if you don’t… if we don’t…”
I don’t understand what she’s trying to say, and neither must she because she prowls closer. Her thighs clench. Her chest heaves. She presses a single hand to my abdomen, scraping her nails over my skin. Her heartbeat thunders against my own as her gaze narrows on mine.
“Zephyra,” I grit out, the last tethers of my control loosening, “if we don’t stop now, I am going to fuck you. You are going to beg for it, and I am not going to be able to say no. If you don’t want this,say so.”
She slides her hand up my chest, up my throat, and into my hair. Toying with the ends. “It feels really fucking good when you touch me.”
“That’s not a yes.”
“It’s not a no.” She licks her lips, so close now I can practically taste the traces of bittersweet wine on her tongue. “What about you, warlock? What do you want?”
You, you, you.
She leans in, her breath hot, drawing me closer. Closer.
My control snaps—but instead of pushing her against the wall and plunging my tongue into her forbidden mouth, I step backward. Untangle myself from her grasp and remind her of the one thing I wish I hadn’t remembered. “You said no touching.”
She blinks wide, dazed eyes at me. “What?”
“Your only rule.No touching.” I stuff my hands into my trousers, trying to discreetly adjust my raging cock.Fuck, it aches. And I have absolutely no privacy here to resolve that myself. To exorcise these thoughts from my mind. I am a warlock. I am supposed to be incontrol of shit like this. I amnotsupposed to fuck mermaids. “We should go to bed.” And then, because I’m an idiot, I add, “Separately.”
“Yeah, I got it.” She glances away quickly, exiting the tunnel first with that sultry, sinuous grace before breaking off stalagmites in her hand. Creating a makeshift bed for herself with surprising ease. She hurls the rocks into the water and then lies down, staring at me while I hover over her.
Still. Fucking. Hard.
“Go to sleep, Arion,” she says. “We have a big journey ahead of us, and you probably need the blood back in your head if you’re going to survive. Rather than in your dick,” she clarifies with a condescending grin. “Because you’re so hard.”
I growl, and my magic instinctually implodes the nearest stalagmites, carving a bed of my own as far from hers as possible. I drop to the ground. “You are infuriating.”
“Says the warlock damning us with more magic.” A few seconds pass, and she’s still staring at me. I’m still staring at her.
At this point, I’m convinced it’s not physically possible for me to look away. Even as Gavriall snores and tosses and turns obnoxiously on his precious bench.
“Good night, warlock,” she murmurs.
“Good night, mermaid.”
She curls inward, shivering slightly, and I can’t help it. I can’t bear to see her so uncomfortable. With a split-second thought of a plush duvet from the tower, I manage to cover most of her limbs. She startles beneath the conjured blanket, but she doesn’t yell at me or argue about the waste of magic. Instead, she searches for me in the dim glow of the cavern and says, “Thanks, Arion.”
