Home > Books > A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash #2)(153)

A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash #2)(153)

Author:Jennifer L. Armentrout

Thick lashes swept up, revealing extraordinarily bright amber eyes. “I…I didn’t think you’d let me.”

Lying my head back down, I wet my lips. “Should I have not?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know.” Casteel moved then, slipping one arm under me and the other around me. He tugged me close, sealing my back to his chest. “No takebacks now, though.”

I allowed myself a small smile as I sank into his embrace, his warmth. And I permitted myself one other thing.

I let myself enjoy it.

Chapter 27

Pulling one of Casteel’s clean tunics over my head, I looked down at myself and sighed. Between the too loose breeches and the oversized shirt, which nearly reached my knees, I looked a bit ridiculous. But the plain black shirt was far better than the too-heavy sweater.

We hadn’t dozed that long, maybe a little over an hour before I woke to find him propped up on his elbow, watching me. When I asked what he was doing, he simply responded with, “Enjoying the scenery.”

I’d blushed a thousand shades of red, and he’d smiled before lowering his head and brushing his lips over my forehead. Then he’d said that he had an idea, and that was how I ended up in the baggy breeches and one of his shirts.

Glancing at the oval mirror before leaving the bathing chamber, I caught sight of the side of my neck. The patch of skin around the two red puncture wounds was faintly pink. I touched the skin, finding the area tender but not painful. When I left the bed, I’d noted that the shadows under Casteel’s eyes were gone, as was the sharpness to his features. It was amazing how quickly my blood had affected him.

It was also amazing how his bite had affected me.

The moment his mouth had closed over my skin and the initial pain of his bite vanished, it was like tumbling into a world where the only thing that mattered was him and the feel of him drawing a piece of me deep inside him. What Kieran had shared with me before about heartmates hadn’t mattered. The realization that Casteel had possibly kept the truth of Spessa’s End from me because he either feared I would share what I knew if captured or he hadn’t trusted me with the information until I was far enough outside the Ascended’s reach was no longer a concern. Neither was the shock of learning about the Joining. There had been no shame over being trapped between Kieran and Casteel as Kieran had been all but pinned to the wall by Casteel’s need. I’d become a flame, and none of that had mattered.

But now?

Now, there was embarrassment when I thought of Kieran—the wolven who must have known about the tradition. Something Casteel had never told me about because it hadn’t been relevant for him to do so. The marriage was temporary. An act that I wasn’t sure was as innocent as Casteel made it out to be—at least not most of the time. But I didn’t feel shame for what Kieran had witnessed. I didn’t know if I was supposed to, but it didn’t feel like something to be ashamed of. My reaction to Casteel was natural, and even if what came afterward when Casteel expressed his gratitude was foolishly reckless when it came to my heart, it had also felt right.

Flushing at Casteel’s apparent lack of control, I scooped my hair out from the tunic’s collar, leaving it down. He’d said that had never happened before, and I couldn’t fathom why he’d lie about that. The fact that it’d happened with me was inconceivable, but there was an odd sense of power there, too, one as old as time itself. The kind of power that I imagined Miss Willa and the women at the Red Pearl, the ones who worked there and were patrons of the establishment, had mastered.

Hearing Casteel’s footsteps in the bedchamber, I tore my gaze from the mirror and slid open the pocket door.

Casteel had managed to change his clothing. Somewhat. He’d donned his breeches and boots, but the white tunic still dangled from his fingertips. Something about the hard lines of his chest and stomach were utterly fascinating, but my earlier boldness had left me.

“So, about my idea,” he said, lifting the shirt over his head.

“I’m half afraid to ask.” I moved to the terrace doors. He’d opened one after we woke. Warm sunlight spilled across the tile floor.

His laugh was muffled as the shirt slipped over his head. “I’m wounded.”

With his back to me, I grinned. “I’m sure you are.”

“Completely.” Facing me, he left the shirt untucked. “Since it’s early in the day, I thought we could take a little field trip.”

Excitement bubbled to life as I shoved up one long sleeve. “To where?”