“You and me both,” I say dryly, even though I’m breathless. I feel his need and his vulnerability. His protectiveness. His desperation. And how lost we both are, caught in a vicious current not of our making. “The least we can do is satisfy ourselves, then. That’s how you wrangle fate, isn’t it?”
Once again, he takes me into his arms. I tremble with anticipation. I know what happens next.
He lifts me up, as easily as if I were a leaf.
“One of the advantages of possessing this terribly unnatural speed,” he says quietly, “is that one can accomplish more in a day—or night—than what one usually would.”
“Hurry up then, Corvan,” I whisper; half plea, half whimper. “Before we find ourselves under siege again.”
“Siege?” He laughs darkly. “The only one laying siege to my very existence is you, my love.”
And then he takes a step forward, and the wind rushes past, and the world becomes a moonlit blur.
43
FINLEY
I should be used to this by now. Corvan’s faster than the spell of the moonlight; faster than wind and spirits.
He blasts back into his castle and steals through the halls, managing to evade people entirely.
There’s no sign of the undead attackers.
There’s just stillness and silence. Perhaps the soldiers have retreated to nurse their wounds. Perhaps the servants are bunkering down, fearful of the next onslaught.
He brings me to a large room, where the moonlight filters through tall windows, heavy drapes pulled back to reveal the brilliant night sky. This room is similar to my own quarters; large and high-ceilinged, with stone floors dressed in opulent rugs and a fire smoldering in the hearth. A large, impeccably made wooden four-poster bed is the only furnishing. There isn’t even a couch or a table.
He sets me down on my feet in the center of the room. Breathing heavily, I can’t say a word. I’m simply astonished.
“My quarters,” Corvan says simply.
Then he proceeds to undress, wrinkling his nose as he strips off his jacket, shirt, trousers, and boots. He bundles the clothes in his arms and walks across the room, dumping them in a round wicker basket.
“The stench of battle lingers,” he growls. “Even more so when the slain are the cursed undead.”
I sense anger in his voice, even though his back is to me. I can’t stop staring at his perfectly naked form; at his rippling shoulders and back, vampire-alabaster and marked with old scars. His ass is sculpted perfection. His legs are impressively powerful.
My breath catches, and words fail me.
“You should undress, Finley, and come to the baths with me.” He turns and looks me up and down, his crimson eyes smoldering.
“H-here?”
“Yes, here.”
“You have your own private baths?”
“You think that we northerners are so backward we don’t have piped water and private bathchambers?” Now he’s teasing me.
I don’t tell him that in Ruen, we all have to go across the grounds and bathe in the communal bathhouse, which is shared between my family and the servants.
“I didn’t say anything like that,” I huff. I turn away, unable to look at him for even a moment longer, for fear I’ll lose all of my senses.
I need to take back control. Put him on the back foot for once.
So I start to strip, peeling away my jacket and my tunic and shirt, kicking off my boots and slipping off my trousers.
Until I’m standing there in just my silken pink underwear, then even that is discarded, dropped to the floor amidst all my other clothes.
It’s a little cold in here.
The air brushes against my bare skin, raising goosebumps. My nipples are hard with cold and arousal. Suddenly, his hands are on my back, and his lips are pressing against my neck, just above the hollow of my collarbone.
He really moves so fast.
I didn’t even hear him.
If anything, the goosebumps on my skin intensify, but for different reasons this time.
“Gods, you’re beautiful. Close your eyes, Finley. Let me lead you.”
“You promised a bath,” I say.
“Yes, I did. And I always keep my promises to you.”
And so I allow myself to be led barefoot across the cold stone floor, over the soft silken rugs, past the warmth of the hearth, until I can no longer hear the rushing of the wind outside.
We’ve entered another chamber. In here, it’s still and silent and warm. It smells faintly of night jasmine and citrus.
“Come,” Corvan urges. Suddenly, he’s behind me again, putting his hands on my waist, easing me forward until my toe dips into something—a pool of luxuriously warm water.
It smells good in here—of orange blossom and jasmine and mint. I don’t know how he’s captured the scents of summer in this place—whatever it is.
I haven’t opened my eyes yet. There’s something delicious about the anticipation of the unknown—when I’m in his hands, anyway.
Nothing can hurt me here.
His presence is the most reassuring and arousing thing I could ever have imagined.
He guides me into the water, taking my hands, ensuring I don’t slip or lose my footing.
He slips into the pool with me and guides me toward a stone ledge—a bench.
I sit.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “Keep your eyes closed.”
The water feels so good against my tired, aching body. It caresses my skin and elicits a deep sigh of satisfaction from me. I reach out for Corvan, but he isn’t there anymore.
I didn’t even hear him move.
Then I feel something; his hands underneath the water, moving up and down my thighs, gently parting my legs.
Oh my Goddess.
Then, underneath the warm water, he proceeds to put his lips on my entrance, and his tongue darts forward, caressing my clit.
Pleasure shoots through my body. I twist and writhe in the water, leaning back against the ledge, closing my eyes. The absence of sight eliminates distractions and accentuates the sensation of his mouth against my nub. He knows exactly where to apply pressure and where to relent.
He very quickly sends me into the next dimension of bliss. It’s a completely new experience for me—sitting on the stone ledge surrounded by warm, fragrant water, stars swimming behind my closed eyelids, my body infused with a feeling of wild, rippling power that threatens to unexpectedly burst forth.
That time in the woods changed me. Eulisyn changed me. She made me eat that heart-seed. What does it mean? What’s inside me now?
I’m scared. What if my powers go out of control again?
But Corvan doesn’t seem to care. He’s still submerged, engulfing me with his devious mouth. How long can this man go without taking a breath?
So I forget about my strange powers and the incomplete puzzle that’s my existence. I forget about the unspoken threat of dark magic; the shocking appearance of the undead.
I forget that Corvan’s a prince of the empire with a terrible weight of responsibility upon his shoulders; that he’s undergone an unthinkable transformation.
I forget that dark manipulations brought us together.
I let it all go. What choice do I have when he’s here before me, giving me the most wickedly intense pleasure I’ve ever known.
I open my eyes and look down. His pale hair floats close to the surface, fluid and ethereal. I run my fingers through it.