Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“You love me,” I whisper. I knew it, to the depths of my being. I should be furious with him, but I can’t be. I’m just relieved that it wasn’t something I imagined.
“Kathras knew,” he goes on. “I gave him the diary and asked him to give it to you.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
We stare at each other for a long, silent moment.
“You framed Kathras for his father’s murder,” I say.
Luthian nods. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it was a part of the plan.” Luthian tilts his head down. “And because I suspected that you loved him. Do you deny it?”
“I do not.” My feelings for Kathras are complicated, but beneath them all is a foundation of love. Much like what I feel for Luthian.
“I couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him.” Luthian smiles sadly. “A faery’s love.”
Selfish. Consuming. Possessive.
“I should have known.” I shake my head and twist my nightgown in my hands. “I should have known.”
“Should have known what?” he asks.
I lift my chin and stare into his eyes. “I should have known that I was a faery.”
“You could not have known.” He turns away.
I don’t allow him to escape me. I rush to him, throw myself into his path, and grasp his arms, holding him fast. There is a battle waging behind the silvery depths of his eyes. He lifts his hands and holds my forearms, as if deciding whether to push me away.
“I should have known, for I want to possess you! I want to consume you!” My admission is a plea. “Possess me. Consume me. Because, selfishly, I love you, too.”
With a wretched sob, he pulls me into his arms and claims my mouth with his.
Chapter Forty-Three
I fall into Luthian as if from a great height. Dizzy the moment my feet leave the cliff’s edge, exhilarated by the danger, knowing that what awaits me at the end can only be pain.
Luthian has taught me plenty about pain. But nothing could have prepared me for the ache of losing him. Now that I know what it feels like, it makes me hungry to avoid feeling it again. I cling to him, almost climb him in my desperation to physically hold him here with me.
I expect him to leave. That this is a final, passionate kiss goodbye to mark the ending of everything we could have had together.
He lifts his head and whispers, “Cenere. My love. My honey flower.”
“Don’t leave me again,” I beg him. “If you love me, you won’t leave me.”
“You’re about to be the queen of this court,” he reminds me. “It’s what you set out to achieve.”
“I set out for revenge,” I remind him. “The crown is an empty bauble now. My purpose…is you.”
His mouth is on mine again, for long, gasping moments that leave us both breathless and staggering. He backs me toward the bed, until I can go no further and we tumble down. Our previously dressed bodies are bare, our skin pressed together everywhere we can touch.
I wonder what he thinks, as his kisses trail down my body. Is he here with me, or revisiting past memories of this bed, with another queen, in another lifetime?
Then, his mouth drags down my stomach, he finds his way to my center, and I don’t think anymore. He knows my body too well, his tongue is far too skilled, even when he is frantic with need. He seeks out my clit, sucks at it and toys with my piercing, two fingers working their way inside me to find the sweet, aching place that intensifies the sensation. I bury my hand in his silky black hair and hold him with my thighs, grinding against his mouth as the pressure builds, builds, then bursts. I come, wailing, my juices slicking down his face as he continues to pump his fingers mercilessly and flicks his tongue over my too-sensitive pearl. I cry out and arch my back, shouting my pleasure again. I am boneless in the wake of my climax, but I somehow push him off me, onto his back, and sit astride his face, leaning forward to grasp his cock and worship the head of it with my tongue.
His moans vibrate through my core as he feasts on me. I take him into my mouth, to the back of my throat, still swirling and sucking. He tenses, strains, and his breath bursts in little puffs against my opening while I slide my cunt back and forth over his face. He grips my hips to stop my squirming, delving his tongue into my sex and drinking from me as if dying of thirst. He lifts up rhythmically, thrusting into my mouth. I’m stunned to realize that I know his body, his responses just as well as he knows mine. He’s so close to coming, salty drops already leaking out to coat my tongue. I maintain the same tempo, the same motion with my tongue, and he pulls his mouth free long enough to cry, “Wait!”