My eyes burn with tears and I lean in and kiss him. “There is love. And then there is this,” he murmurs.
I pull him closer, still out of breath, as he stays inside, unable and unwilling to pull back. We kiss again and again, sometimes rough, sometimes soft, unable to stop. The faint sound of ballroom music hums in the distance, and the throne room falls away, leaving only us.
CHAPTER 65
Maps and Tea
We take longer than we should. When he finally softens inside me, it happens in stages, the pressure easing little by little until I feel the change fully. When he slips free, a quiet breath leaves me, my body still sensitive, still holding the echo of him.
At first, neither of us moves. Then I try to stand. My legs give slightly before they catch, a small, uneven step forcing me to reach for the edge of the throne. His hand comes to my waist at once, firm, holding me upright before I can say anything.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
I nod, drawing in a breath, letting him keep me there for a second before I straighten. Awareness returns in pieces. My skin. The air. The damp warmth between my thighs.
Him.
I glance down, then back up at him, and pause. There are traces of me still on his skin. Across his abdomen, lower, unmistakable, and he has made no move to wipe them away. Heat rises to my face, though relief comes just as quickly. At least our clothes hadbeen off. Only then do I realize I am no better, that there is no part of me untouched by him either. The thought lingers for a second before I push it aside, my attention returning to him.
“There is a basin in the west antechamber,” I say, quieter now, brushing my fingers lightly over his chest. “I can wash you.”
His hand catches my wrist before I can move away.
“No,” he says. The word is simple. Certain. His other hand slides along my side, pulling me closer, his voice lowering as he leans in. “I want every bit of you on me.”
My breath catches.
The heat in my cheeks deepens, something softer threading through it as I look at him again, unsure what to do with the way that presses into my chest.
“Colsar…” I start, but the words fall away.
He bends, retrieving my dress from the floor, lifting it and giving it a small shake before stepping behind me. The fabric slides back over my shoulders, cool against my skin as his hands guide it into place. His fingers move at my back as he ties it, pausing briefly at the base of my spine before easing away.
I turn to him.
There is still warmth between us, still the trace of everything that just passed. I reach for him, my hands moving over his chest again, slower this time, smoothing along his skin before helping him back into his clothes. He watches me closely, quieter now, his breathing more even, though the intensity of him has not faded.
He lifts the circlet from where it fell, turning it once in his hand before setting it back on my head with a care that feels like something else entirely. Then he leans in and kisses me, slower this time. Grounded.
Then again, his lips trailing down my stomach, my hip, the inside of my thigh. "Colsar." My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. "There is siakar dripping out of me. I am a mess."
Something about the brightness of the throne room, the stillness after everything, makes me feel suddenly shy. The distance between us is gone but the awareness of it is not.
His voice is low, rough at the edges. "You forget what I am, Asha."
His tongue trails up the inside of my thigh, unhurried, and then he pulls back and looks at me with an expression I have no name for.
"Let me mark you."
I nod.
He bites into my thigh without warning, at the same moment he shoves his fingers inside me, and the sound that comes out of me is not quiet. Pain and pleasure hit at once, tangled together until I cannot tell them apart. Blood trickles down my leg. He licks it clean with a low sound in his chest before he buries his face between my thighs entirely.
He pulls back once, just enough to speak. "Where is the mess, Asha Bear?"
"Inside me," I get out. "Mine and yours."
He takes his tongue and drives it inside me, fingers working alongside it, and the sounds he makes — consuming, unashamed, the raw sound of him swallowing every bit of us — send me over the edge faster than anything else could have. My release hits hard and sudden and I stop trying to hold any part of it back.
