Page 31 of A Fate In Moonstone

His fingers dug into my flesh. My mouth opened to tell him to let go, to leave, but nothing came out.

Soft puffs of breath travelled over the skin of my shoulder. A nose dragged along the edges of my neck.

Oh, dear Heart Tree and all other magical deities of this universe.

Rune breathed me in and my body arched, needing to give him more. A low growl emitted from his chest, and I pressed into him further.

I wasn’t supposed to react like this.

“What are you doing here?” I breathed against the door, my nails digging into the wood.

“I came to say goodbye.” His low voice against my skin sent a shiver over me like an erotic ripple effect.

Wait... goodbye?

I spun around, caged between his body and the door.

“You’re leaving?” I demanded, the disappointment written all over my face.

The icy depths in his eyes watching me flared. He growled, closing the so few inches between us.

That growl vibrated across my chest and shot down to my core.

I’d never been this turned on in my life.

His head lowered as he sniffed me from the top of my head, to the side of my jaw, and then to my collarbone. A predator deciding if I’m prey or another predator.

“Full moon.” His stubble scratched against my neck as he paused over my thumping artery.

“Not permanently then.” I moaned as my hands snuck between us to push him away. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a smarter voice tried to remind me of something important.

Then it all happened so fast. My fingers gripped the tunic covering Rune’s broad chest, and we were moving. I wasn’t sure if he carried me to the bed or I moved with a frenzied Fae speed alongside him.

In a second, I was squished into the mattress beneath his hard body, legs spread for him to press against my sex.

“Never.” He groaned against my neck. The first press of his lips against me had my hands gripping his black hair.

He growled, his hips flexing into me in response, his straining length harshly pressed where I needed him.

I wanted to sob.

I wanted to press my lips to his.

“Rune.” I moaned his name. A plea for those lips at my neck, that warrior’s body to conquer me. A feral fight to give and take pleasure from one another.

“My moon.” He groaned with a hand snaking to my thigh, lifting it around his waist as he moved in rhythm, grinding over me.

I yanked his head back from my flesh, he smirked. He liked my roughness, my warrior’s spirit, and wanted to burn in my fire.

Our lips parted, as I leaned in, gaze set on his pink lips.

Then a knock on the door echoed around the room.

Chapter Eighteen

We froze.

The knocking came again.