Page 22 of Queen of War and Ruin

She wraps her hand around my neck and sinks her fingers into my hair. Gods above, I know this is a bad idea, but I can’t for the life of me remember exactly why. Lilias takes my hand in hers and brings it to her waist. Her skin is warm under my touch. She pushes my fingers down, until they catch on the hem of her tiny shorts.

“Fuck,” I growl. “It’s hard to argue with you when you keep taking your clothes off.”

“Then don’t argue,” she whispers, her breath hot against my neck.

Godsdamnit.

I can’t fight this anymore.

Chapter 12

Lilias

READY

He finally kisses me.

It’s hard and deep, the kind of kiss he gave me in front of the crowds, thrusting and dancing, making me burn and ache with a wild, desperate longing. Proving our unity.

But now there’s no audience, nothing to prove. Yes, I asked for this, almost begged for it. And he didn’t walk away. For once, he’s kissing me with no one watching.

I’m almost afraid when he pulls back, panting against my lips, a wild gleam in his eyes. My fingers sink into his hair, as if I can hold him here if he decides to leave. But he doesn’t step away. Instead, his hands grip my waist, and he pushes me back until my legs hit the blanket-wrapped hay bale.

“On the bed,” he growls.

Gods, I’ve never been so happy to obey. I stumble onto the blankets and tug off my thin silk shorts. Zarek stares at me like a feral beast, like a wolf watching a rabbit. His chest rises and falls, his shoulders still damp with rain, his skin gleaming in the low light. I stare at the many scars crossing his skin and the thin trail of dark curls leading to the tight black pants he’s unlacing.

And the first threads of apprehension twist in my chest. He’s so much bigger than Blayne, and it hurt with Blayne, every time. Yes, it felt good too, pleasure mixed with the pain, but there was always a moment when I had to grit my teeth against the burn when our bodies joined.

Zarek shoves his pants to the floor. The hard length of him pushes against the thin fabric of his silk shorts. He crawls onto the bed, bending over me. I clench my jaw and spread my legs.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

He laughs, low and in the back of his throat. “Oh, are you?” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck.

He kisses me. Softly, on my lips, and then on my neck, my collarbone. I gasp as his fingers slide over the curve of my breast and dance across my nipples, my hips twisting against the blanket, my body burning with that strange fire, desperate for his touch.

“Zarek,” I whisper. It comes out as a moan, hot and needy. “I— I’m⁠—”

He grins at me, his fingers circling my nipple as the lamplight dances across his wet hair.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod, but that flicker of fear laces through the heat in my body. It’s going to hurt, but it doesn’t matter. I can take it.

“Yes,” I whisper, although my breath catches in my throat.

He grins. My hips twist on the blanket, turning toward him, but he doesn’t move to enter me. Instead, he bends down, kissing my chest. When his lips close over my nipple, I moan something that’s in no human language. His hand slides down my stomach and traces a path along the inside of my thigh. I think of Detec, of the way he made me tremble and burn while we were there, the way he touched me⁠—

“Gods,” I moan. “Please⁠—”

My eyes close as my head tips back on the blankets. I don’t even know what I’m begging for as my hips rock against the heat of his chest, my whole body taut and trembling, pleading and desperate for something only he can give me.

He laughs again, deep and thick, his breath hot against my skin. His lips trace a path down the curve of my stomach. When he kisses the inside of my thigh, I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing.

And then his head drops between my legs.

I cry out, shock and pleasure chasing each other through my body, escaping from my mouth. His tongue dances over the place he touched on the bed in Detec, and I burn. I’m trembling, shaking as my hips rock against the hay beneath me, my hands clenched around the blankets, clinging to the thick fabric like I might dissolve without it. I’m making noises, moaning and pleading, but I don’t think those are words coming out of my mouth.