His tongue met me firmer now, in a long lick up the length of my slit, swirling around my bud with just the faintest brush of his teeth.
Goddess help me. I—I couldn’t—
A strangled moan escaped me, breaking free from my attempts to swallow it.
His mouth still to me, Raihn met it with a groan of equal strength, like the sound was water to a man dying of thirst.
“Again,” he whispered. “Please.”
And Mother help me, I couldn’t have denied him. Not even if I’d wanted to. Because that sound broke the remaining vestiges of Raihn’s self-control, and suddenly his slow, languid work became fierce and desperate.
He worked at me like his singular purpose in life was to wring the most pleasure from my body—his mouth now firm and unrelenting, strokes hard and definitive, moving from my entrance, to my clit, and back, kissing and suckling. My hips ground against him, chasing his movements—I couldn’t help it, couldn’t control my own muscles anymore.
“Good,” he murmured. “Just like that. Let me help you.”
Yes, I thought, blindly. Yes, yes, yes.
And I didn’t realize until his growl of pleasure that I was saying it aloud, over and over again—giving him the answer he had been asking for. Giving him everything he wanted as he gave me everything I needed. My hands had found his head, tangling in red-black waves, unsure whether I was pulling him closer or pushing him away.
Closer, I decided, as his tongue worked at my clit in just the right way, as his fingers slid inside me, as his curse of pleasure shot up my spine like a bolt of lightning.
I loved his voice. I couldn’t even deny how much I loved his voice.
That was my last thought, before the wave of pleasure consumed me, wiping them all away.
When my orgasm faded, I was breathing heavily. A faint sheen of sweat covered my skin. My muscles felt loose and shaky. And yet, when I opened my eyes to see Raihn, naked, climbing back onto the bed, desire already stirred again.
He looked so damned beautiful—the lantern light playing over the bare panes of his body, marked by time and wounds and scars and a life well lived, flames reflecting in the lustful rust-red of his eyes, locked to me as if nothing else existed.
Seeing, as always, more than I wished he did.
Seeing, as always, me.
Suddenly I felt so wildly exposed, even though he was naked and I was fully clothed. The facade of my games had collapsed. The final heat of my anger had fizzled away like a candle dying in the night.
I blinked and felt a tear streak down my cheek.
Raihn settled beside me. He wiped the tear away with his thumb.
“I hate you,” I choked out. But the words weren’t an admonishment. They were weak, sad, bare.
They did not say, I hate you because you killed my father.
They said, I hate you because I let you hurt me.
I hate you because I grieved you.
I hate you because I don’t.
There was no hurt in his eyes. No anger. Only gentle, affectionate understanding. I hated when he looked at me like that.
Or maybe I hated that, too, the same way I hated him. Not at all.
He kissed me on the forehead.
“I know, princess,” he whispered. “I know you do.”
His lips moved down, to the bridge of my nose. My eyes closed against his kisses, a little damp with my tears.
“You have destroyed me,” he murmured. “And I have hated every moment of it, too.”
The truth of those words swelled in my chest, unbearably heavy. He said them in the same voice he’d said our wedding vows.
I opened my eyes to find his staring directly into mine. The shades of them—so many disparate colors, coming together to create something of such beauty—stunned me.
“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.
Begging, still.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He tasted faintly of my own pleasure, but more distinctly of him—foreign and familiar, sweet and bitter. This kiss was not like our battle from before. This was an apology, a plea, a greeting, a goodbye, a million words rolled into several endless seconds in which time died between us.
I hate you, I thought, with every new angle, every searching stroke of his tongue, every soft apology of his lips. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
And with each kiss, I breathed the words into him, even as I pulled him closer, even as I let his body fall over mine.
Raihn’s mouth trailed down, over my jaw, my throat. Lingering there for a moment—over two sets of scars—before moving down farther still, to my shoulder. Only then did he lift himself up, fingers playing at the strap of my gown.