“Do I get to have a turn worshipping you?” I ask, but his hand inches lower and lower. I squirm against him.
“Being able to fuck you is the closest to being worshipped I’ll ever get,” he says against my neck, the words making my head roll back as I lean against him.
I understand what he means. Being one with him feels like something holy.
“Then fuck me, Asmo,” I whisper.
It’s as if the words were a key sliding into a lock, but the lock was hiding a beast within. He bends me over, my face landing in the softness of the bed below. The sound of his pants unbuttoning, his belt hitting the floor with a thunk, the brush of his length against my backside. I press against it, desperate to feel him inside me again.
Desperate for another taste of the divine.
He rubs himself against my soaking center, teasing me from behind. “So fucking ready for me,” he says, his voice low and throaty.
I wiggle my hips in a plea, and it goes answered. My back arches as he fills me, his moan almost sending me over the edge. His strokes start slow, every movement sending shooting pleasure into every nerve.
He pauses as my orgasm threatens to explode through me, but his next words have me panting all over again. “I’m going to fill you up, then fuck you again. Would you like that, princess?” Nodding is the only thing I can do, because the ability to speak has left me. “I want you dripping by the time I’m done with you.”
He slams into me with a moan and stills as he empties himself into me. My body reacts instantly, my orgasm spreading like wildfire this time. I sag into the bed as it dissipates, and Asmo pulls himself out. When I turn my head, he surveys the mess he made appreciatively, his length glistening with his seed. He grabs my leg and pulls me over, twisting me onto my back.
I part my legs and he hooks his arms underneath my knees, lifting my center to his glistening hardness once more. He summons a pillow and places it underneath me, then slides into me again.
And holy heavenly fuck, he was made so perfectly for me. I want to cry out to the Mother, I want to fall to my knees and thank Her for him. I smother my moans with my hands as he rails into me with the same passion as earlier. But this time feels different. This time, he fucks me like he’s paying penance for having me.
I reach for him, but his gaze is locked on where we’re joined, watching every stroke as he thrusts into me. It doesn’t take long for usboth to climax again, and he collapses onto me, his heart pounding in his chest, in tandem with mine.
This. I would fight the entire world for this moment. I would claw through dirt and glass and fire if it meant another moment with Asmo, his heart beating against my chest as it recognizes mine.
He brushes sweat-slicked hair from my forehead, his own black locks damp. “Princess, I—” He pauses as he fumbles for the words.
I reach up and cup his face. “I know.”
There isn’t a word for what’s between us. Love isn’t enough. So all I can say isI know,because I know exactly what he’s trying—and failing—to say. He places his hand on the mating tattoo on my chest, my heart thumping against his hand.
“Mine,” he says.
“Yours,” I whisper into his lips before sealing the promise with a kiss.
We lay there as our hearts return to normal and the sweat dries from our flushed skin. My eyes begin to drift shut, and I force them open. “We need to go. The ball could end at any moment.”
He rises with a groan. “You’re right. These things usually go until the dawn, but with what happened tonight…” He shoves his legs into his pants and tosses me my clothes. We dress quickly, and he grabs the mirror from the nightstand, tucking it into an interior pocket of his coat.
Asmo funnels us away, and my shoulders relax as we step into Squall’s End again. We manage to run into Rain on the way back to my private quarters, and she assures us that she’ll notify Etta and the Herd of our return.
Once inside the privacy and darkness of our own room, Asmo extracts the mirror and sits on the bed. He extends his fangs, pricking his wrist and drawing a bright drop of red blood. He smears it on the scalloped edges and grips it with both hands. “Show me Marik.”
The mirror goes from a smooth, reflective surface to a foggy image of…a living room. Marik sits on a pile of blankets, watching Elle sleeping beside him on the floor. I do a double-take at the tenderness in his eyes.
Holy shit. It has to be true, then. He never looked at me that way. The only person who’s ever looked at me that way is Asmo. My mate.
Asmo doesn’t seem to notice, gaze flicking all over the mirror as he tracks every detail.
Marik rises, Elle shifting as he walks from the room. The mirror darkens, then shifts to a new view, still foggy. Marik walks down a hallway. He disappears, then the image changes again, and he walks onto a front porch, then down a set of stairs into a forest, the soaring trees as familiar to me as the back of my hand. His footsteps are quiet, but the sounds surrounding him are not. Songbirds tweeting, owls hooting, and the rustling of animals traveling over the forest floor are the only things I need to hear.
They’re still in the Deer Court.
It only takes three days to find them. Etta and Basil spread the word to all their scouts and dispatched extras to scour the forests in the Deer Court. A squirrel shifter races into Squall’s End one frosty morning. One second, a squirrel is flying down the hallway; the next, Etta and Basil are sprinting in the opposite direction, brown-haired male in tow. They pass Asmo and me on our way to the training room.
“What’s going on?” Asmo demands.
