Chapter 35
He closes the distance between us, his lips grazing the curve of my neck. “You smell divine,” he rumbles, his tongue dragging along my skin, sending a shiver through me.
I bite back a moan, refusing to let my desperation show. Yet it’s as if he senses every bit of restraint. His hand slides beneath my breasts, teasing me before his voice drops to a sinful whisper. “I want to hear you scream. I want you breathless. I want to watch you unravel–just as you undo me.”
Whether it’s the filthy promise in his words or the rough, velvet timbre of his voice, another wave of pleasure crashes over me, fiercer than before. I can feel myself slipping, losing control, and it’s intoxicating.
My gaze flickers to his for only a heartbeat before I look away, too flustered to hold his stare. But he won’t allow it. His fingers grip my chin, forcing my eyes back to his–his intense gaze a challenge, as if he’s baring his soul to me.
“Watch,” he commands, the word carrying an edge of dominance that stirs something dark and thrilling within me. “I want you to see everything I do to you. Memorize it.” A crimson hue bleeds into his irises, and for a moment, I feel as though I’m staring into the heart of a storm.
“Your eyes-“I breathe, my fingertips barely brushing his cheek, my voice trembling under the weight of everything unsaid between us.
He shuts them tight, turning his face aside. “This is what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and ragged. “I lose control when I’m near you.”
Power surges through me. The most formidable fae, undone by my presence. The realization sends a thrilling shiver down my spine.
My hands explore the hard planes of his chest, tracing every ridge of muscle until they hover just above his waistband. The hunger inside me sharpens–no, it’s more than hunger. It’s a need, a craving that pulses like a living thing within me.
“May I?” I whisper, my voice small, uncertain.
He gives a slow nod, his body shifting slightly to let me peel away the last barrier between us. But when the thick crown of him comes into view, I freeze. The sheer size of him–the girth alone–makes my breath catch in my throat.
Magic flares, stripping the remaining fabric from us without a touch. I swallow hard, my heart racing.
“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, guiding my hand to him. Not forcing–offering. It’s a silent invitation, one I could refuse. But the truth is, I want this. I want to touch him, to feel the heat and power that emanates from him in waves.
I glance up, suddenly terrified that he can read my every thought. But his eyes–pale, streaked with red -reveal nothing. His mask is perfectly in place.
Then my fingers curl around him. The heat. The throb. I hesitate, uncertainty clouding my mind for a fraction of a second, but then instinct takes over.
I stroke.
A ragged groan tears from his throat, his head falling back as his magic ripples through the air, the
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room trembling under the weight of it. The mirror shatters, a sound so sharp it rings in my ears, but I barely register it. His lips seize my breast, his mouth searing, his hands gripping me tighter as my grip tightens reflexively-
And that is his undoing.
His teeth sink into my flesh, a sudden flash of pain that slices through me, the bite sharp and delicious. It’s a perfect counterpoint to the euphoric release tearing through my body. My vision whited out, my very bones humming with the intensity of it, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming.
Afterward, silence.
Only the steady rhythm of our breaths fills the room, the lazy pull of exhaustion sinking into our bones. He gathers me against him, his warmth enveloping me as sleep drapes over me like a veil. One thought lingers, curling my lips into a smile:
Finally.
I am his mate.
