“And you belong to me.”
“Always.”
I drove in deep, shuddering from the sensation, and ground out my final few thrusts. My orgasm lanced through me, violent and sudden, and I filled you with my seed. This was the bodily expression of my deepest desire, to have you as my own, forever.
“Please,” you said in a voice that was naked and raw, as though it took the sum of everything left in you to utter it.
I withdrew and rolled you onto your back, took you in my mouth base to tip, then sucked voraciously. You jolted in surprise, arched off the bed, and creamed my throat in a rhapsodic display that had you clawing at my scalp with your fingernails.
“Oh my God,” you kept saying, interspersed with my name and that of your Christian savior, and I worried for a moment I’d driven you to madness. “What have you done to me?” you asked with incredulity.
“Too much?” I hadn’t shown much restraint.
“No,” you said emphatically. “It was… the entire spectrum. Colors I’ve never seen before exploding in my mind. You were so mean to me, and then… then you were so nice.” You pulled me down by my shoulders and wrapped your legs around my hips like a monkey. Your heart thrashed in your ribcage.
“Breathe, Vincent.” There was a touch of hysteria in your demeanor.
“I never want to hurt you,” you said, still gasping. Our lovemaking tended to bring out your sincerest confessions.
“I know,” I said, already resigned to the fact that it would surely happen again. As much as I’d tried, I couldn’t mold you to my structure any longer. You had to make your own mistakes, keep your own counsel, and trust in your own abilities.
“I’m sorry,” you said with an ardent passion. Was this an apology for what you’d done or what you’d yet to do?
“You don’t need to apologize to me, my darling. Not now, not ever.” You stared up at me, unsure. “Sleep now.” I kissed your eyelids, which were already closing. A moment later your limbs fell away as well. Splayed open with your skin bruised like ripe fruit, you slept. And I watched over you, cataloging your every breath, grateful that in these moments at least, you were mine.
Lucian cameby late in the morning with a message from the warborn. Aretha and Hyas were requesting a meeting to discuss strategy. I shut the door behind me and joined him in the hallway so that we’d not disturb your slumber.
“Will Lena be there as well?”
“Her presence is somewhat unavoidable as it was her suggestion to meet.”
“He needs a couple more hours yet. He was up all night.”
“Really, Henri?” Lucian asked impatiently. “You couldn’t save the marathon fucking for some other time?”
Here was my chance to prove you were telling me the truth.
“Was Stefan with you last night?”
“He was in our rooms this morning. I slept in the dining hall. Didn’t wake until almost dawn.” Lucian grew thoughtful for a moment. “His tolerance for alcohol is astounding.”
“He’s spent the past few months building it up with our reserves,” I said. “Vincent told me he was with Stefan in the wine cellar last night, but he wouldn’t tell me what they discussed.”
“Really?” Lucian’s expression brightened. “Perhaps Stefan is ready to admit his amorous sentiments toward me and was seeking Vincent’s counsel.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course, Lucian would make this about himself.
“Vincent is lying to me about something.”
“I would too. You’re completely irrational when it comes to him.”
“I am not.”
Lucian blew out an exasperated breath. “We all keep secrets, Henri. Don’t assume the worst. You trust him, don’t you?”
“In most ways, yes. But he’s young and reckless.”
“Weren’t we all at that age?”
