Page 198 of Of Masks and Fury

“You’re right.” His expression shifted, the guilt giving way to hunger. “I need you so much.” His hands slid from my neck, down my sides, finding the hem of the tunic and slipping it up and over my head, leaving me completely naked. His palms heated my skin as they stroked upward, tracing my ribs before cupping my breasts.

Pleasure shot through me as he gently rolled my nipples, the simple touch sending flames flickering through my low belly. His eyes never left mine, watching my reaction with an intensity that made me feel exposed in the best way.

I leaned in and kissed him again, this time with all the need I’d been holding back. My mouth claimed his with desperate hunger, my tongue sweeping against his as I poured everything into the kiss. Relief that he was alive. And desire that burned hotter with every breath.

He groaned into my mouth, his hands tightening on my breasts as I ground against him. The hard length of him pressed through his pants, jutting against the apex of my thighs, and the sensation made me whimper.

His fingers found my nipples again, rolling them until I gasped against his mouth, my hips moving in restless circles against his cock.

“Isi.” My name came out half plea, half warning.

I broke the kiss just long enough to meet his gaze that smoldered with hunger. “I need you.”

Primal need flashed in his eyes. He stood, lifting me with him.

“Your wounds,” I said.

“Are…I’ll live.” His grimace told me everything.

“Put me down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“I freely admit it. Let me?”

The need in his gaze was my undoing. “Be careful.”

“I will be.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, looping my arms around his neck while his hand supported my weight beneath me, his other hand tangling in my hair.

“I’ve got you,” he rasped. “Always.”

He carried me through the balcony doors and to the bed, stripping off his pants quickly before joining me.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

TREW

Ilaid her on the bed like she might shatter if I handled her too roughly. Moonlight streamed through the sheer curtains, painting her skin in shades of silver and cream that made her look ethereal, untouchable. But she was touching me, her fingers trailing down my chest, tracing the fresh bandages with a reverence that made my breath catch.

“You’re really here,” she whispered, her palm flattening over my heart. “Really mine.”

The wonder in her voice gutted me. “As if I could belong to anyone else after you’ve carved yourself into every part of me?” I caught her wrist, bringing it to my mouth and kissing the pulse point. “So fucking mine. Only mine.”

She arched a brow, her lips curving in that wicked smile that used to make me growl with frustration but now made me growl with need. “That’s a bold claim from the man who once insisted I’d tried to kill him.”

I smirked. “It was a poor attempt.”

“Because I wasn’t truly trying.” Her voice was breathy velvet, teasing the sharp edges of our past even as her fingers danced lower, tracing the V of my hips with deliberate slowness.

I hissed, nipping her earlobe, the taste of her skin like moon-kissed honey.

She leaned in, her breath warm on my collarbone, carrying the scent of wildflowers and storm-kissed earth. Her fingers splayed across my chest, her nails grazing just enough to stake her claim. “Show me how a king claims his queen.”

Our magic sang, my golden threads twining with her silver like vines claiming a trellis, sending shivers of warmth racing through my veins.