He chuckles; a low, decadent sound that invades every fiber of my being. “Do I look like I give a shit about convention?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
“Surprisingly?” He arches one eyebrow dangerously.
“You’re an imperial prince, aren’t you? Your people own the conventions.”
“All the more reason why I don’t care.”
“What a privileged bastard.”
He smiles; fang-tipped, mischievous. “And I intend to use it, my sweet Finley.”
Deft hands strip my jacket from my arms. He pulls my tunic over my head and unfastens the buttons of my trousers, pulling them down to reveal my silken panties. My boots fly off, followed by my pants.
He moves too fast.
He’s too much. I can’t resist.
All of a sudden, I’m naked before him. The room is toasty warm thanks to the glowing embers in the hearth. My body is on fire.
Corvan looks me up and down. He moves until he’s poised above me like a big predator, and there’s hunger in his gaze.
Wild energy ripples through my body, heightening my arousal. Corvan gently strokes the side of my face with his gloved fingers. “You’re stunning,” he murmurs. “I’m a very fortunate man.”
I count my blessings as he peels off his gloves and discards them. He cups my face with his warm hands and kisses me.
His taste reminds me of morning frost and smoky spice.
I gaze at him, taking in his powerful form, wondering what he’d be like underneath his clothing.
As if reading my mind, he rises up on his knees and discards his jacket. His black shirt follows.
I stifle a gasp.
All of a sudden, he’s bare-chested, looming over me like a pale god, only he can’t possibly be a god, because his body is covered in scars.
Do gods wear scars?
Faded to pale pinkish-brown, they’re a shade darker than his alabaster skin. Some are long and vicious and jagged, others short and precise, as if he’s been stabbed. One crosses his taut abdomen just above his navel.
Corvan isn’t one of those nobles who holds an empty military rank just for show. This man has known real combat. His body tells of a life sworn to the blade.
And in spite of the marks of violence, his body is chiseled perfection; abdominal muscles etched into a pack of eight, chest and arms broad and powerful. Every inch of him is cut and honed. If not for his scars, he could be a living sculpture.
A soft whimper escapes me.
He lowers himself, pressing his palms into the bed on either side of my head. “Caught you staring.”
“Your scars…” I whisper.
“Happened before I died.” His lips quirk wryly. “I’m a soldier.”
A tendril of horror tugs at my heart. “Some of those wounds look like they must’ve been awful, Corvan.”
“I can’t expect unquestioning loyalty from my men if I don’t fight the same battles they do. A commander who’s afraid of going to the frontlines is weak. You don’t have to look so worried, Finley. This body can’t scar anymore. Besides, I’d like to think you were staring at more than just my scars.”
I was. A flush fills my cheeks. He kisses me again; deeply, savagely. I yield, enjoying the feeling of his big, warm body hovering just above mine; his big hands sliding over my shoulders, down my sides, my waist, over my hips, until he finds the edges of my undergarments and deftly slips them off.
He hooks his arm under my right thigh and pushes my leg up.
Then he buries his face between my thighs and delivers bliss with his tongue.
I close my eyes and dig my fingers into the silken sheets, whimpering softly as waves of pleasure build and build.
I never knew this could feel so good.
I run my fingers through Corvan’s soft white hair, tracing them down his neck; across his powerful shoulders.
All the while, he gives me pleasure beyond my wildest imagination.
And I keep falling.
Deeper and deeper.
He curls his fingers around my wrists and holds me still as he caresses the part of me that’s exquisitely tender, gently sucking on that tiny pearl of flesh.
I didn’t know that… one could do that…
Could make me feel like this.
All coherent thought is swept away.
There’s only him, and the undeniable ecstasy of his touch.
The waves build until they’re so big that everything crashes together, and I’m drowning in bliss, and then something inside me breaks.
I’m undone.
Completely and utterly unravelled.
And my world will never be the same again.
31
CORVAN
She’s such a sweet little thing. I savor her climax as my own arousal strains to near-breaking point.
I’ve tried to hold back from fucking her; tasting her first, and giving her as much enjoyment as she can take, because it’s so damn rewarding to hear her whimper and beg, to hear the surprise and sheer pleasure in her voice.
This is new to her.
She hasn’t been fucked properly before, has she?
Her scent floods my awareness. The sound of her breathing is delicate and raw and rhythmic; it invades my consciousness and makes me want to possess every last fiber of her being.
After three years of existing in a wasteland, this is a torrential downpour.
She writhes and shudders, straining exquisitely against my grip. Her slender wrists are encased in my grip.
Her scent drives me to madness.
Thank the Goddess I drank from her only days ago, because if I hadn’t, I would surely have lost it by now.
I want to bite her as I fuck her.
Don’t you dare.
I release her as the climax spreads through her body, sending gentle shockwaves through her. She tips her head back and howls softly, and it’s the most elegant, arousing thing I’ve ever seen.
The sight of her naked. The faint sheen of sweat on her luminous skin.
Her scent.
I rise up and cup her chin with my thumb and forefinger, holding her there as I kiss her gently on her lips.
My erection is painful. I can’t stand it anymore. With my other hand, I hastily unbuckle my belt and lose the pants.
She closes her eyes and somehow finds my cock with her fingers, curling them around me, teasing my shaft as I wrap my arms around her and kiss her neck.
I inhale her; human-scent and blood-scent. She’s layered and complex and decadent.
How am I going to ever recover from this?
Control yourself.
I can fuck her, but not taste her. Not yet.
It’s very important that I don’t taste her yet. She has to be able to trust me.
She wraps her legs around me and pulls me forward.
Blessed Goddess. What sublime torture is this?
I slip inside her. She’s molten velvet and sweetness. I hold her close and fuck her; gently at first, then harder. She grips me tighter with her powerful legs, and I run my hands up her back; up her neck, threading my fingers through her bound hair.
I loosen her hair, allowing it to cascade around her face, letting its sweet floral fragrance envelope me.
I inhale her essence, putting my lips on her neck, stopping just short of sinking my fangs into her soft, sweet skin.
The thirst hits me like a cannonball, colliding with desire, and even the brutal act of self-restraint stokes my arousal.
I taste her skin—sweet, musky, intoxicating. Her pulse flutters beneath my lips. I’m so excruciatingly close.