Page 74 of Black Sea

I playfully punched him in the chest with my free hand. “You know what I mean.”

Amlach let out a low chuckle that prompted me to rub my thighs together, overwhelmed by a sudden rush of arousal in my sex. This unintentionally caused me to slightly brush my knees against Amlach’s, who finally opened his eyes.

He let his eyes run over my face for what seemed like an eternity before replying, “No woman has ever made me want to start another family, besides the one I have with my comrades in arms.”

He casually slid a leg between mine, making me blush as I felt the pressure of his thigh against my heated core.

His grin broadened. “I guess you haven’t found your mate yet either, have you?”

Sadness seemed to freeze every cell in my body. I looked down at our intertwined hands. “And I never will.”

“Why do you seem so sure about that?” he asked, confused.

I hesitated. “Elves find their mate within their early thousand years.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming,” Amlach said lightly, trying to ease my tension.

For a few seconds, I stared at his thumb gently caressing mine. “But not all succeed, as the Spirits have not chosen a mate for every elf.”

Amlach remained silent for a moment. “What happens to those who can’t find theirs?”

“Some have the strength to drag themselves into a lonely existence thanks to the affection of their family.” I made a pregnant pause. “Others decide to leave this world to avoid facing a life without love.”

“I see.” I felt his gaze studying me, but I didn’t dare to meet it. “Nauriel,” he called me.

I kept looking downward.

“How old are you?”

A tear escaped my eye. “I’m three thousand years old.”

He released his hold on my hand to lift my chin. His gaze was so intense that I drowned in it with all of myself.

“You will find your mate,” he assured me with dark firmness.

Bewitched, I allowed him to wipe my tear with his thumb and then pass it over my lips, moistening them. He gradually lowered his calloused fingertips onto my protruding collarbone, then traced a fiery trail down my back, making me arch against him. I shivered as he touched my buttocks and gasped uncontrollably when, with a smooth move, he hooked his fingers over my knee joint and positioned my leg against his side. I instinctively ground myself against him, and he responded by squeezing my butt so roughly that I moaned over his lips.

“Nauriel?” he said, his voice husky with need.

An implicit question. A plea not to stop him again.

I touched his cheek, savoring the sensation of the beard beneath my hand. I traced his lips with my index finger, my pulse racing at the thought that we were about to kiss.

And, oh, how badly I wanted to.

I wanted to kiss him with open mouth. I wanted his tongue to touch mine. I wanted to sink my teeth into his lips. I wanted him to suck mine. I wanted to know the taste of his saliva.

I wanted Amlach to be my first kiss.

My first time.

My everything.

My one and only.

“Yes,” I whispered, giving him my permission.

Predatory excitement came alive in his eyes like a bonfire, and his fingers pressed into my skin with almost painful force.