He didn’t exactly answer. “I’ve never had to fight like this. Even in the Shadow War, it was the Dreaded Dead who took my sword. Rarely, other men and women.” He loosed a laugh. “I am ashamed that it makes me feel. . . unstoppable.”
Maeve reached him, his tattooed hands finding her face at once. He looked over her, scrutinizing her with precision. The feral beast he had every ability to let gain control was in his eyes and the hard line of his mouth. It was in his loud and heavy breaths. He tilted her head to the side, his eyes shifting to her throat. To her pulse point.
His eyes blew wide, darkness casting out the swirling violet fire.
He lowered his mouth to it and licked, slowly, raking his tongue across her quickening pulse.
His nose brushed beneath her jaw, the ghost of his warm breath at the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. His voice was needy, like a stifled groan. “I want you.”
Without adjusting her head, his other hand trailed down her front, landing low on her stomach. A quick breath snapped out of her nose as his fingers danced along the band of her pajamas. She could feel the pressure building through him, still not satisfied despite expelling and exerting himself in battle.
“Gods, I want you,” he murmured again, nuzzling further into her neck.
She slid her hands up his neck, ignoring the blood staining his front, and wrapped her fingers through his hair.
“Why do you wait?” she whispered. “What do you stall for?”
Reeve’s breaths grew hungrier as he placed his forehead on her shoulder, his hold on her tightening. A small, anguished sound reverberated from him. “I don’t even know anymore.”
His control snapped. The cat pounced. The serpent’s jaw snapped down, and thunder boomed. Reeve’s mouth slammed into hers, already open and ready to feast. The power undulating from him wasintoxicating, wrapped in the feeling that, as he said, he was unstoppable. That this unstoppable, feral god growled with desire forher.To be one with her in all the places their skin could meet. Electrifying flames rose in her chest, and she kissed him back, lifting onto the tips of her toes.
His plated armor vanished, leaving him shirtless with loose-fitting pants that hung low on his hips.
His hands dropped from her head as he bent, his lips and tongue dominating over hers, and gripped the back of her thighs. He hoisted her up as her legs spread and wrapped around him. She winced slightly from the soreness still lingering in the top of her thigh, but Reeve was too occupied with moving them to her bed to notice.
The lack of poise, the feral sound rumbling in his chest, and the way his hands slid to her ass had her melting into him. He licked and pulled at her bottom lip, his teeth breaking the skin, and then licking the wound. Again and again. Pain and then apology. Pain and then pleasure.
Her altitude changed as he dropped to the bed, his hands moving to her hips as gravity forced her down onto his hardened length. She rocked her hips instantly, and Reeve’s grip tightened. She broke their kiss, panting, and pressed her hand to his muscled chest and pushed him back. His eyes were like molten lava, swirling in rich golden flecks of violet light. Her force wasn’t necessary, as Reeve obliged and lay back onto the bedding. With fire still thrumming deep in her stomach, she remained straddling him, but bent down and licked across his front, her tongue sliding from the waistband of his pants, up his center, across each of his chiseled abdominal muscles.
The noise he made brought a smile instantly to her lips.
“It is dangerous to tease me,” he said huskily.
“I have no intention of being a tease,” she replied darkly.
He flipped her faster than she could blink, switching their positions. He shook his head with a wicked grin. His lips were nearly back on hers when Magic flew through both of them: an alert they shared. The Magic was Dread, belonging to two, but neither of the signatures was Mal’s. It was close, on their side of the barrier, but it did not seek to hurt. The desperate Magic that had suddenly appeared was known to her. Unmistakable. Familiar.
Reeve’s eyes were wide as they stared at one another in shock. Maeve’s hands clasped over her mouth, and after a few more breaths, her body kicked into gear. They each fled the bed, Maeve running for the door, prepared to fly down the palace to their intruder.
Reeve silently snagged her wrist and pulled her close. He Obscured them just outside the palace. She took off from him at once, running towards the arches where large tiers of smooth crystal steps sank into the Black Deep. Drystan stood atop the stairs already, his bow drawn and his calm attack directed at their uninvited guest.
Eryx bolted into her periphery as she bounded past Drystan.
Water splashed around the unexpected visitor, the current lapping against the stone steps. But even in the shadowed early morning, that silver blonde hair was unmistakable.
Abraxas kneeled, bloody and bruised.
Chapter 46
Eryx took a step towards where Abraxas kneeled with bloodstained clothes. Drystan wouldn’t fire unless ordered.
But Eryx. Maeve wasn’t certain Eryx answered to Reeve fully. She anticipated his rash movements as he made to step towards Abraxas. Maeve moved to place herself between Eryx and Abraxas as Reeve’s Magic flared, a silent command, and Eryx halted.
Maeve walked steadily to her cousin and kneeled in front of him. Water splashed at her feet, soaking her robe and pants and freezing her bare feet.
The blood was fresh and still dripping down his chin. She didn’t hesitate to take his face in her hands. Blood squished between her fingers. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks.
“Brax,” cried Maeve.
