Just beneath the collar lays a small leather box. I pick it up and open it to see two custom-crafted cufflinks, painstakingly molded in great detail. A raven, wings fully stretched. Any doubts I had about her message vanish as I begin to shed my clothes.
Cecelia
Anticipation thrums through me as I run my keycard across the screen and open the door. The melody still plays as it did when I left it hours before. I abused my powers today—as Tobias has so many times in the past—to execute my personal plans. Over the past few hours, I used my birds to track his movements, knowing when he would arrive.
Sure in my stride, I walk into the living room to find it empty, but it’s the lingering scent of spice that has me changing direction—the hairs on my arms spiking to life as heat gathers at my core. Entering the bedroom, I come up empty but see the patio door open. It’s when I step in, I spot him on the far side of the balcony, and it’s enough to make me pause. The sight of him with his back turned, one hand resting on the balcony, the other cradling his drink, robs me of breath—knocking me into an immediate state of arousal. His hair is slicked back just enough, longer now with the ends curling slightly around his ears. It’s when he turns to face me fully that I’m rewarded in whole.
Jesus Christ.
Timeless, intimidating, formidable, and a brilliant menace. The most incredible picture of unrest. The flames waltzing in his eyes slam into me. He’s the most alluring of men and the most lethal. The heat radiating between us is already too much. The fact that he is more than capable of burning when he touches has me gravitating toward him, all too ready to thrust myself into his inferno. I’ve spent an entire day being waxed, polished, dyed, and cut, specifically for the reward of the look in his eyes. With a subtle lift of his chin, he orders me forward, and I obey, taking the strides toward him and discarding my jacket along the way without breaking my gait. His eyes drift up my frame pausing at the spiked leather boots and trailing up the sheath dress that hugs my every curve. Simmering in the possibilities, I’m granted the payoff for my efforts when he thrusts his hand through my hair, gripping it just enough so I feel the sting.
He’s back, my broken king. Though forever scarred, he’s whole again, and he’s completely mine.
“This is what you want?”
“Yes. It’s time.”
“You’re sure?”
He loosens his grip on my hair, his warm breath hitting my lips as he bends. Molten eyes penetrate mine, the only sign of emotion in his otherwise stoic expression. Only this man could make the possibility of dying together seem romantic. But he’s searching now for any trace of fear. Fear that no longer exists and won’t as long as we’re in it together.
“Positive.”
His reply is a slow nod before his eyes dip, and his free hand wanders to the slit of my dress, his finger gliding up my thigh. His nostrils flare when he finds me bare, gathering evidence of my need for him on the pads of his fingers.
“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving this room tonight, Trésor.”
He separates me before pressing his fingers in, his hold on me tightening as he feels my desire. My mouth parts as he leans in and runs his tongue along my lower lip. Body humming, I slide my hand down the silky material of his tie and down to cover his cock which jerks in reaction to my needy touch. Fingers entangled in my hair, he tilts my head taking advantage of the access before pressing his full lips to my throat. My moan fuels the movement of his finger, and in seconds I’m moaning his name.
Taking his time, he thoroughly covers every inch of exposed flesh at my nape before staring down at me with satisfaction—a man on fire, as whole as a man can be after all he’s endured, as I whisper the words he’s been waiting for.
“Let’s get back to work.”
The tick of a grandfather clock and the intense stare of the woman sitting across from me has me on edge. It’s been a solid minute of uncomfortable silence since we sat down. She lifts her teacup, never taking her narrowed gaze off me as I clear my throat. It was a short trip from Triple Falls back into the pits of hell, and this is part of my penance and one of Cecelia’s few conditions for re-entry. I was told in great detail of how it was ‘on me’ to right the wrongs of my past and explain my behavior to the people who mean most to her outside of our exclusive world. One of which is now looking at me as though plotting my slow and painful death.