Page 129 of Burn of the Everflame

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

I ignored his command, keeping my focus on his tanned olive skin. I followed the line of his scar up his throat, where it disappeared into the black forest of his beard and reemerged across his lips. My focus lingered on his mouth as I remembered all the places that mouth had been.

What I wouldn’t give to be back in the Sophos library, hiding from the pressures of thrones and fates. For those two blissful days, there’d been nothing but us, and gods, we’d made the most of it. My thighs squeezed together at the memory of his fingers threaded in my hair, his broad chest rocking against mine, the way he filled me so completely . . .

His eyes snapped open.

“Naughty girl.” His tone rolled with heady warning, gas on my growing fire. “I said eyes closed.”

I held his stare, feeling reckless and defiant. I had so little control over my life, I was seizing whatever scraps of it I could find.

His fingers grazed my skin, slow and taunting. “Do I need to remind you that good girls get rewarded?”

“I seem to remember being bad got me rewarded, too.”

A sensation of hardness throbbed between my legs, but its dark hunger wasn’t mine. Apparently, I could feel Luther’s arousal through the bond, too. My body responded in kind, my breath quickening and my skin burning hot.

“If you won’t close your eyes,” he said roughly, “I’ll do it for you.”

With a curl of his finger, the lights in the ballroom guttered. Shadows curtained the windows to mask the sapphire dusk. My senses tightened on the slow stroke of his fingers up my inner arm, an innocent touch that the pitch-black room turned thrillingly sinful.

Leave, my conscience warned. You’re too weak to withstand this.

But Luther’s desire made me feel stronger than I’d felt in months. In the darkness, I could pretend that what I did not touch did not exist, and what I did touch, I could conquer. The thought emboldened me. I shifted in my chair, causing his hand to brush the bare skin along my ribs.

“I wanted to give you a moment to relax in peace,” his voice rolled through the shadows, “but you are making it very difficult to relax.”

The ballroom doors cracked open with a sliver of light, and my heart sank—but a moment later they closed, and the darkness engulfed us once again. Luther’s hand stilled at the sound of giggling and shuffling feet. An orb of Lumnos light appeared in the far corner of the room.

“Put your magic away,” a woman’s voice insisted. “If anyone finds us, my mother will have a fit.”

A distinctly masculine chuckle followed, and the orb blinked out. “Fine. It’s more fun in the dark.”

Her girlish giggles were cut off by smacking, rustling clothes, and a breathy, unmistakable moan.

I seized Luther’s arm in panic. He remained completely still, and a cool mist wisped across my cheek. His magic, I realized with a start. He was using his shadows to conceal us, and with my magic blocked by the cuffs, I wasn’t able to absorb it. I was entirely at the mercy of his godhood.

Luther’s excitement at the discovery rippled through me as his magic thickened into a hand that wrapped across my mouth. Luther had no desire to announce our presence—and no intention of letting me go.

Across the room, the man groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.”

I arched my back, my core seeking friction as I imagined those words from a different voice. It had been so long since we’d been together. The mating bond was growing impatient with brushing arms and skimming hands, and so was I.

The woman’s moans grew louder. Two more shadowy hands took hold of my shoulders, gently pressing me back against my chair, as Luther toyed with the edge of the fabric draped across my breasts. Each touch was so light, almost accidental, turning my need wild with unfulfilled desire. I stretched toward him in an urgent bid for more, and his hand shifted to keep its distance.

He was teasing me. Punishing me, perhaps, for pushing him away.

Or maybe he knew me even better than I thought. I ran from pressure. When forced, I fought back with all my might. But these alluring reminders of what I could have, if only I reached out and took it—that was how he’d torn down my walls. He seemed determined to do it again.

Across the room, the woman squealed with surprise, followed by the clang of items being knocked off a sideboard, and the creak of weight being laid on wood.

She laughed. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Then you better be quiet,” the man said. “Spread those pretty legs so I can have a taste.”

His voice went silent, and her moaning resumed. I should have felt ashamed for intruding on such a private moment, but with every husky groan and mewling whimper that floated through the darkened rafters, my defiance grew.

I was sick of doing the wiser thing and being miserable for it. I wanted to be wild and indulgent and foolish. I wanted to banish my emptiness with something that would make me feel.