“Touch yourself,” Lucien says, pulling Kazia’s hand between them. His own hand remains, controlling Kazia’s grip. Kazia hardly has to stroke himself. Each slow, deep thrust of Lucien’s cock provides movement enough.
Lucien’s other hand braces in the bedding. A drop of his sweat falls to Kazia’s forehead, which should be disgusting.
Kazia just wants it to happen again.
Every part of him trembles with pleasure. His body is an instrument of joy, not torment. He would be embarrassed by how quickly he comes, except Lucien is right there with him, crashing over the edge.
Kazia arches in painless tension, then falls like a feather back to earth.
Afterwards, Lucien holds him from behind. They’re sticky and sweaty, and one of them will have to get up in a minute. It’s not going to be Kazia, because he’s too bonelessly happy.
None of Kazia’s fantasies were this good, but he’s greedy for more. He wants to revel in this before he has to think about tomorrow. “Sei said you like me.”
Lucien’s laughter in his hair is exactly what Kazia wants. “He’s wrong. I fucking love you.”
Kazia ducks against the pillow, flushed with glee. “You have terrible taste.”
“The worst,” Lucien agrees. “But I can’t get enough.”
?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lucien
Lucien wakes to a crick in his neck, a small body curled in his arms, and a voice in his head.
Are you there? Is this working? Your thoughts are all slow,Tezurit accuses.
Lucien scrunches his eyes.I’m still asleep. Let’s talk later.
His arm is almost numb where Kazia curls on top of it. Kazia fits so perfectly in his embrace, Lucien doesn’t mind losing circulation. Sharing a pillow allows him to lean forward and smell Kazia’s hair. Ticklish strands fill his lungs with the faint scent of cinnamon.
Smelling Kazia’s hair might be creepy. Lucien will leave that to his more alert self to figure out later.
Continue smelling your mate later,Tezurit says.You said to wake you at sunrise. Now it’s sunrise.
Lucien permits himself one last long inhale.We need to talk about boundaries at some point. You can’t just eavesdrop when I’m busy smelling Kazia.
Ignoring the mental equivalent of an eyeroll, Lucien pushes up on one arm. Extricating himself from Kazia at least allows him a better view. Kazia shifts with the motion, turning back on the pillow, and Lucien holds his breath.
Even in sleep, Kazia’s face is sharp with worry. Lucien’s entire being twists with the desire to ease those fears. Break the phylactery, kill the king and queen. Sit Kazia on the throne and never let anyone harm him again.
Anger still burns in Lucien’s heart. Perhaps it always will. But it doesn’t consume him any more. Killing Imrik Dire won’t bring his family back, but it will serve more than Lucien’s own revenge.
His parents would have wanted that. Not just mending a charred curtain, but using the pieces to clean up a broken home.
Lucien would give anything to wake every day just like this. He brushes the hair from Kazia’s sleeping face and murmurs, “Morning, beautiful.”
Kazia frowns sleepily—then his eyes fly open.
The way he relaxes when he recognizes Lucien makes Lucien’s heart flip all the way around.
“Is something wrong?” Kazia asks.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Lucien will do everything in his power to make that true. He strokes Kazia’s hair again, even though it isn’t in his face.
Kazia’s eyes are wide, like every gentle touch is unexpected.
