Anguish flickered like a weak heartbeat.
But then he was saying my name, brushing the word over my skin.
And then I was tugging at his thick strands of hair, hooking my leg over his shoulder.
“River, River, River.” He chanted it like a prayer.
“Ryder,” I answered, his name a praise, a song.
My body arched in response, waiting for those soft lips, drifting dangerously close to that aching, wanting piece of me.
He started at the top, at the tingling nerves. One lick. Two. A moan drifted out of me.
I pitched my legs wider, writhing in rotation with his tongue, every touch bringing us, bringing me, closer and closer.
His mouth swept higher, then lower, in and around, before I eased my palm behind his head. I held it there, in one trembling spot, twisting my fingers in his hair.
“Ryder,” I sighed, knocking my head back against the wall.
Waves of pressure built, spilling into my thighs, my core, my heart.
My hips picked up speed.
“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Right there.”
A current tore through me, peaking between my legs, splintering off to the rest of me. I was soaring, I was weightless, my blood rushing, my body boneless.
My knees shook, hardly able to keep me standing, but he didn’t stop.
And I didn’t want him to—I clenched against every little zing, every little aftershock that swept through me.
Ryder was just as greedy, swallowing every last drop of pleasure, every last moan and shiver, until I was nothing but a limp, starry-eyed pile of cells.
He sat back on his heels, drinking me in. My silver and gold body paint dotted his cheeks, streaking his nose.
The hunger was still there in his gaze. It followed the rise and fall of my chest, the droplets of sweat, while I caught my breath. One taste wasn’t enough for either of us.
But it had to be.
His hazel irises swelled, eclipsing the darkness that seemed to be a permanent part of him now. I let my hem fall to the floor.
Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he seemed to steel himself, leashing whatever had possessed him. After a slow breath, he rose to his feet, then held out a hand.
I stared at his open palm, unmoving, unblinking. For a second, we weren’t in the Heimer Töfra, in a realm etched out of the hollowed-out walls of the elven castle. We were on the beach, just north of Santa Cruz, getting ready to leave a secret cove, after having just watched the seals splashing and spinning.
A jolt of sadness rocked my heart. Would we ever get there again? To that place where it felt like us against the world, where I was just a grieving girl, and he held all the broken bits and pieces of me.
I locked my hands at my sides, curling them into fists to resist the temptation to touch him further, to walk out of those doors like nothing had changed.
Outside, the sky had grown darker, stormy. He followed me out, and I had to fight every urge to lean into the warmth of his body behind me. Lighting crackled in the distance.
“What changed?” A clap of thunder shook with my words. “Why break your oath?”
When he didn’t answer, I turned to face him, my chin kicking up. Beneath those long, dewy lashes, he stared. “Because you were more addicting than the magic.”
My gaze dropped to his sleeve, to the ripples of water inked beneath it. “We both know that’s the tattoo talking.”
He shook his head, his stare ignited by desire that felt far too real to ignore.
