Fucking Skies. Shemustknow what effect she has on me.
I struggle to hold onto my irritation with her for consistently putting herself in danger despite my best efforts to keep her safe.
I fail miserably.
Trailing a finger across her collarbone, I trace the line of her neck. She’s panting. So am I.
Fuck being patient.
“Can I kiss you, Mayah?”
“Yes—”
My mouth crashes down against hers in a deep, hungry kiss, lips demanding entrance. I’ve been drowning for her, and the feel of her lips on mine, her body pliant in my arms, has me repeatedly thanking the Skies. Her fingers tangle in my hair, a loud moan sweetening the air around us.
Mayah arches her back, pressing harder into me. My fingers curl into her hair as I angle her face so I can devour her properly. She tries to stifle her moans, but I coax the sweet sounds from her anyway, swallowing every breathless gasp like it belongs to me. My tongue delves into her mouth, and Skies damn me, she tastes likesalvation. Gripping the backs of her thighs, I hoist her up until her legs wrap around my waist.
I can’t get enough of her.
I willneverget enough of her.
If I died in her arms right now, I’d be content with my fate.
I pull back slightly, trailing hot kisses down her neck, brushing aside her necklace to taste the sweet hollow between her collarbones before kissing back up to her lips. Her mouth eagerly meets me, tongue brushing against mine.
Nothing about the kiss is gentle—not the sharp clack of our teeth knocking together, not the death grip Mayah has on my hair, the way her legs are clamped around my hips. She grinds against me, desperate for friction, and I’m half-inclined to take her here, right now—
The door opens with a loudbang.
Humming energy signatures—five people, maybe more, swarmed close together. Feminine chatter, followed by a scandalized gasp.
I break the kiss, huffing an exasperated sigh.
Servants.
“Come back later,” I growl.
The women turn to leave.
“Wait! Wait,” Mayah calls after them. A rosy flush paints her cheeks and neck, yet she somehow turns even redder. When I don’t release my hold, she pushes at my chest, glaring at me.
I meet her fierce gaze. I can’t think clearly, the desire to keep her pinned to this wall overpowering every rational thought.
Her glare burns hotter. Reluctantly, I set her down. Her knees buckle, and I grab her waist to steady her.
My wife scurries from the supply closet, head bowed. I’m right behind her as she turns the corner and practically flees down the hallway.
She thinks she can just walk away from me afterthat?
“What are you doing?” she hisses when she realizes I’m right behind her, cheeks still deliciously red.
“My wife seems to have misplaced her guards,” I rumble. “I’m ensuring she returns to our chambers safely. And”—I band my arm around her waist—“if she wanted to continue what we began in the closet, I’m happy to oblige her.”
She opens her mouth, then seemingly changes her mind and snaps it shut. I accompany her to our chambers in silence, when Mayah suddenly whirls and jabs a finger into my chest. “What wereyoudoing in the closet?”
I haven’t told her that my advanced stormwielding abilities allow me to sense the natural electric currents that emanate from all living creatures—and that I’d recognize hers in a crowd of hundreds.
I haven’t told her about my truthwielding, either. Guilt rakes sharp talons down my back, worse than the prickles that torment me day and night. I don’t answer immediately. She’d see it as a betrayal—that she couldn’t ever lie to me, even if she wanted to. Not that she ever has.
