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The wind beats at him like waves, but all he can see is the wild, bright fear in Nur’s eyes. “Please,” Nur gasps, and flickers of smoke burst from his open mouth.
Unthinking, he captures Nur’s frightened noise with his lips—swallows it back and pours all his longing into the bond, into the slack mouth under his. Nur gasps into his mouth. His hands come up to twine in Arsene’s hair, claws scraping and stinging. Arsene shudders as something bitter and cold touches his tongue.
Nur’s soul.
It tastes like ichor, like corruption and need. Like desolation. Like he was made for Arsene. Arsene takes it all down, and the bond shudders and pulls tight, and Nur arches into him solid and real and alive.
With a groan, he separates them.
Nur shudders. “The pull is strong.”
“Stay with me.” He searches Nur’s eyes. They beg him for the truth. “I’m not ready to let you go. Stay until I’ve said everything I need to say to you.”
“You don’t mean it,” Nur says hoarsely, shivering.
Arsene kisses the words away, devouring his soft mouth, letting Nur’s scent fill his lungs and stir heat in his belly. He sinks his hands into the silky fall of his hair and holds him still, taking his time, tasting every crevice. The song rises around them, demons falling, wind spinning, a storm brewing in his heart. Nur is perfect in his arms. Hot, sharp-edged, hungry. Arsene loses himself in the kiss until Nur’s claws dig into his chest and he pushes Arsene away.
“Not here,” he gasps. His eyes practically glow.
“No,” Arsene rumbles, fighting the urge to scoop Nur up and throw him over his shoulder.
“Your tent.” Nur extricates himself from Arsene’s grasp and picks up the sword.
Arsene is helpless to do anything but follow him.
Chapter 29
NUR
He’sglad when they reach the tent and Arsene takes the sword from him, if only so he can hide how his hands tremble. The angel is fire in the aether, and Nur still doesn’t know if he’ll bring absolution or burn him down to nothing. His heart thrums with uncertainty. Arsene’s words tumble around his head.
What am I to you? he wants to demand. But he’s not ready to know. And Arsene isn’t ready to say it.
While Arsene dismantles his sword, Nur swiftly strips down in the frigid air. Arsene finally turns back to him and his breath catches audibly.
“You’re shaking.”
Nur crosses his arms protectively over his chest, but the angel reaches out and pulls them away, exposing him.
“I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin,” Nur hisses, avoiding his piercing blue-green gaze. “Dosomething.”
Arsene bears him to the bedroll, pressing him firmly into it. “I have you.”
His coarse shirt rubs against Nur’s inner arms, making him shiver. Arsene whispers a roughShush. He kisses Nur again—is it only the third kiss? Nur hates every one, hates how they make him want more.
What are you to me? Captor, lover, life-giver.
He pulls away from Arsene’s kisses, twisting his face toward the wall of the tent, and Arsene seems to get the hint.
He nibbles his way down Nur’s jaw, his jugular, pressing his plush lips into Nur’s collar with barely-there kisses in between every bite. Nur squirms as heat slithers down his spine to collect at his hole. His entrance becomes slippery and soft, rubbing every time he shifts.
“Fuck me,” he demands. He needs to befull, to have that sublime cock stuffing him so tight he has no room to think about anything else. He needs to be pinned to this world by Arsene’s obnoxious, perfect, primus dominance.
Arsene’s mouth closes around his nipple in response and Nur yelps as he sucks, pulling a lightning bolt of pleasure out. He pushes at Arsene’s forehead with a moan.
“Not there!”
“Patience,” Arsene says, pressing his smirk into Nur’s skin.
