She shook her head. “Let me still be the ashes of a burned-away past for a little longer. It is unfair, I know, but I need this. Please.”
Heath watched her for a moment, seemingly testing the weight of her words or the truth they held. “So be it.”
He crashed his lips to hers, and she tasted freedom. His tongue was hot and slick, dueling with hers in a war of taste and need. She had lived many years—two hundred, to be exact—and no Fae had dared to touch her like this.
Large, rough hands gripped her back and pulled her tight. Heath was taking over, lifting until he sat straight up and dragged her to sit on his lap. The fabric of her dress bunched around her legs, and she fought to get closer to her Fate, to press against the heated length digging into her hip. Finally, she ripped at the fabric with desperate hands and straddled him.
Bliss.
Pure bliss. His mouth was hard and unforgiving, the sharp planes of his chest pressed to the softness of her breasts. But his manhood, that delicious stretch of hardened flesh, was what she was most interested in. She worked herself against it as Heath swallowed her moans.
Breaking the kiss, he gasped. “Gods, baby. Just like that.”
Asherah was frantic, searching for pleasure she had not known in so long. Touch. Taste. Feel. Scent. Heath smelled of smoke and heat. He tugged on her hips with hands of a warrior, forcing her to ride his cloth-covered cock harder.
And it was perfect. So perfect.
Until that familiar tie jerk made her cry out.
“Asherah.”
They were out of time, and she had to go back.
“I must go.”
Heath growled, wrapping one arm around her and rolling her underneath him. “Not before you come for me. Let me see it, feel it. Remind me I’m alive, Ash.”
He bucked against her with long, harsh strokes that made her catch her breath. He sucked his way down her throat and over the swell of her breasts.
So close.
When he ripped away her bodice and sucked a nipple between his teeth, she wailed, every muscle locked in pleasure. Heat spread through her gut. Molecules broke and then snapped back together.
“You shall always be mine.”
But she was snatched away before she could respond, the echoes of his body against hers.
Get closer, Foraltin, so we don’t have to be broken apart ever again.
Chapter Nine
“We’re clear for a three-mile radius, but shortly after that, there’s a bog I can’t get a clear bead on. The Mark Stone went haywire every time I got close.”
Heath was just happy Cynes was back. It meant he could move closer to Ash. Although they’d only known each other a short time, the call of his soul was strong. He couldn’t deny his craving for her when she was in his presence.
He wanted her here, even now. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t talk to her or just had to see her faded image, he wanted to know she was okay.
“Good, Cynes. We’ll head out then. We can cover those miles in a short time if we set a good pace.”
They didn’t need to eat or drink regularly, but they wouldn’t be able to replenish either. But Heath couldn’t afford to move slowly and conserve his strength.
Eiravel tested the blades of his swords. “The bog, did you sense any danger?”
“I couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t smell right.” Cynes wrinkled his nose. “Something has died there.”
“The bog is home of the Wraiths.”
Heath spun, his heart pounding. Gods, he was acting like a stupid lovesick puppy. Just her voice made him randy enough to want to fuck her on the nearest surface, and he didn’t care who watched.
