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Which was exactly how I felt about him. He overwhelmed me, made me need things I’d never needed, made me feel free in a way I wasn’t used to.
When I sucked harder, wanting him to let go of everything, wanting him as desperate as I felt, wanting to swallow down his cum as I had before, he pulled at my hair.
I wasn’taboutto let go, though.
He released a deep sound, something from his chest. “Trouble,” he panted before pulling again, with no more luck. “I haven’t had you yet, and I sure as fuck don’t want to waste this.”
He left the rest unsaid, that his real fear was that we wouldn’t have another chance. We were headed into purgatory, and that wasn’t the sort of place people came back from.
That made me give up my prize, had me tightening my lips once more before pulling back and releasing him. Having sex with Grant felt like finishing something, like completing a bond that had been uncertain before.
He moved quickly, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his jeans. Each time I thought of him as weaker than the others, he reminded me that even if he wasn’t as physically strong, he had his own methods. I found myself twisted and on my back, though his hands were busy on my pants.
He’d used his magic to move me, effortlessly flipping me while focusing his attention where he wanted it—which was on trying to get my pants off.
And despite how much I enjoyed his little show of power, it turned out that even he wasn’t a match for tight leather.
“What black magic is this?” he muttered as the fabric stuck to my skin, especially since what we’d already done had heated me up and sweat didnotmake for easy removal.
“I told you these were a horrible idea.”
“I once killed adragon, you know. Not just Hunter’s smoke creature, but a real fire-breathing dragon. I will not be made to look like an idiot because of clothing.”
“Well, next time you kill one, you can turn them into a pair of pants to show them who’s boss.” I let out a gasp when he tugged hard, the leather sticking and refusing to go past my ass.
These were great-looking, but they had not been made with my generous ass in mind.
He let out a frustrated sound before his lips moved, quiet words falling from them. Before I had a chance to complain, the fabric loosened considerably, and Grant pulled the scraps free, a look of victory on his features.
“You cheater!” I peered down at my bare legs, at the black lace of my underwear that, while cute, was probably not appropriate for guild business. “And now what am I supposed to wear?”
“You doubt my ability to get you another pair?”
“Well, you couldn’t get these off. My faith in your abilities isn’t that strong.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh before slipping his fingers into the waist of my underwear and tugging them down my legs. I shifted, helping him, wanting nothing more than to get rid of every bit of cloth that covered either of us. In fact, I arched my back and reached behind me to undo my bra, not at all confident that he’d manage to get that off by himself.
And all I really cared about was him gettingmeoff anyway.
He leaned forward, over me, and I spread my legs around his hips. The moment felt oddly sweet and intimate, something closer than what we usually were. It felt personal.
He paused, staring down at me as if he’d realized the same thing. Resting as he was on his forearms, his skin stood out against mine, the bright colors and deep blacks of his tattoos stark against the blankness of mine. “You know why I got all these?”
I swallowed down a joke, refused to go there when it seemed he actually wanted to tell me something. “Why?”
“Because I was nothing growing up. I had nothing, not even a last name. People didn’t see me, never looked at me. They did this thing where they’d look past me, where even if I was there, right in front of them, they’d pretend not to see me.”
Boy did I understandthat. It also made sense as to why he’d helped me get my protection spell removed—he knew how it felt to not be seen.
“That doesn’t explain the tattoos,” I said when I couldn’t follow the train of thought that went from point A to point B.
“After I gained my immortality, when I accepted my own power, people saw me for how they could use me, for what they could get from me. People have looked at me all my life and seen what they wanted. So, I figured, fuck that. I want them to see whatIchoose.” He lifted one of his hands, bracing himself with the other, to tap at the large tattoo on the left side of his chest, where it wrapped over his shoulder and his ribs. “This was my first. I went in just after I killed the council and my father, spent hours in the chair with Hayleen.”
I peered at the image, taking the time to study it. Before, it had been just color and chaos, but as I traced the lines, it came into focus and I found meaning in it. It depicted Grant killing the council.
Beings arched, with lines of power reaching toward them. The tattoo was messy, dense, requiring me to study closely to make sense if it. At the center, where the swirling tendrils of magic convened, was darkness. It wasn’t a figure, but a monster of some sort. Was that how Grant saw himself?
Of course it was. Despite him saying he didn’t regret his actions, there had never been a question about the deep divide inside him, as if it were a choice he could never fully be comfortable with.
