“Were you hoping all along that my shadows would take you in front of them? That the world would come to know just how desperate Onita’s queen is for her shadow-wielding Armature?”
She nodded, again not able to trust her voice.
“Well, I can hardly deny my queen. But remember your punishment.”
Andrian’s shadow slid between her thighs. Mariah couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped past her teeth.
She remembered the first time he’d done this to her, hidden in the stacks of the Onitan library. So much had changed since then.
It thrilled her that some things never would.
“Gods,” he groaned into her ear. His shadows explored her, taunting and infuriating. “So wet already, even for my cursed shadows. If you stay quiet, this shouldn’t take long at all.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Andrian.” Mariah wasn’t sure how she found her voice, only that the words demanded to be said. “Your shadows are not cursed. You are better than your maker.”
Those same shadows paused their taunting. Andrian released a shaky exhale.
“Whether I’m better or worse, it doesn’t matter. My magic and I belong to you all the same.”
The coil of shadow slipped inside her with a sudden, desperate thrust.
They filled her. Consumed her. Cracked her open, broke her, and pieced her back together. Her grip in his hair tightened, nails of her other hand digging into his forearm. Her head was thrown back, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the world swirling with rain and sandalwood and the distant tang of the bonfire.
But she didn’t cry out.
His shadows began to move inside her, her heavy breaths matching his. The fast beats of their hearts roared in her ears, drowning out the sensual melodies of the music. Even knowing they could be seen, even knowing they were far from alone, the moment narrowed to his arms around her, her body against his, his shadows between her legs.
“You’re doing so good,” Andrian said. “Staying so quiet. No one has even noticed us yet.” His teeth grazed her ear. “Let’s see if you can handle more.”
More?
Mariah’s thoughts fizzled when another invisible tendril slipped under the folds of her dress.
When it found the apex of her thighs, grazing over her clit, she couldn’t control herself. It had been so long, too long. She’d forgotten what it was like, what it would be like?—
She whimpered.
Everything stilled.
“I’ll give you that one,” Andrian murmured hoarsely. “But I expect more control from you, princess. Understood?”
Gods, what an asshole.
She loved him.
She nodded, even as a thrill of competitiveness sparked through her. She would win this test. His taunting was all but assuring it.
“Good girl.”
That competitive resolve quaked when his shadows resumed their worship.
But it didn’t break.
Andrian’s shadows played her body like an expert musician played an instrument. Coaxing and teasing, biting and soothing, delicate and firm. Each twist inside her, each touch over her clit, had her pleasure climbing higher. Somehow she stayed quiet, somehow she kept herself still, even though all she wanted to do was cry out into the night and writhe in his arms.
The fight for control only added to the thrill. That dormant magic sparked in her chest, just as it always did, a reminder that what was lost was not gone. And she couldn’t wait to get it back.
She felt herself nearing that precipice. Felt herself inching toward that cliff. She was ready to fall over it, ready for light to burst across her vision.
