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“Lashback,” I whispered. “Raise that many dead and . . .” I shrugged. “The fight helped, but the thought of losing you has me unsettled.”
Eli removed his shirt, holding my gaze. “I am here. There is nature, flowing water. Let go.”
I shook my head.
He shed his trousers, and I couldn’t look away. I told myself that it wasn’t sexual. The fae were an almost obsessively clean people. He was in the cemetery. He’d handed me my steel sword. The foyer was where the outside world, violence or death or anger, was left.
I could tell myself that I felt such peace here because of those things.
I had.
It was a lie, though. I felt this way because the naked man in front of me was here; he was my peace. My haven.
I stripped in silence.
He walked away, passing the main room and going to one of the most beautiful rooms I’d seen anywhere. Inside was a marble rainfall shower behind a wall of plants. Beyond it was a stone tub, with a small waterfall that splashed into it. It was the sort of decadence that made me remember that he wasn’t merely the fae bartender he pretended to be most of the time—much as seeing him with a weapon made me remember that. He was a prince. A warrior. He had no need to be ostentatious as he had no insecurity there.
It took all of my resolve not to kneel before him in worship when he was this free, just as it took all of that resolve not to bend him to my will when I saw him with a sword in hand.
“What thoughts are in your mind, bonbon?” Eli stood so that the water of the shower was cascading over him, and I could forget that we were inside as he stood naked with stones under his feet and plants shielding just enough of him to make me need to move closer.
I moved so the water from his body splashed me.
“I catch a few stray words as intensely as you are thinking. Tell me, Miss Crowe. What are these thoughts that you are resisting?”
“Rules,” I whispered. Our mental communication thing was spotty, but since I’d been injected, it was harder to keep him out. “Thinking of the rules . . .”
Eli shook his head. “That’s not what you were thinking. Something about swords in hand . . .”
My gaze fell to his hand, watching it reach out toward me. “No swords here,” I said, trying for lightness. The pressure from the lashback in my body made me feel like I was shaking, but I couldn’t tell if that was real.
“Shall I take something else in hand, Geneviève?”
I stepped closer and nodded. “Me.”
He pulled me into his embrace under the water. “Let go,” he whispered. “I have you.”
And I did; I let my restraints fall. All of the residual magic trapped in my skin after my accidental necromancy flooded him. He swayed with me, letting me fall into him and his back brushed the plants around us.
I whimpered as my body made contact with him from thigh to chest. It wasn’t sexual in a way that could result in faery matrimony, but it felt good in a way that sensual and magical all at once. My eyes fluttered against the pleasure of his fae energy crashing into my grave magic.
Perfection.
Life.
Obviously, the plants in the room appreciated the surge. The wall erupted into a veritable jungle as the grave magic let go of me. I slid to the stone pebbled floor and looked up at Eli, who was as aroused as I was. The trouble with my grave magic was that it was life affirming—and what could be more life affirming than sex?
“Geneviève?”
I took him into my mouth.Thatact wasn’t forbidden to us, although Eli had made a point to avoid it.
I paused and asked, “Rules?”
Eli’s hand reached down and caught my hair. His voice was as delicious as any dessert as he said, “None for me. I am yours, bonbon.”
Our entwining magic crashed again, and all the tension I’d had rose. I found that pinnacle where there is only sensation.
“Geneviève. Love . . .” As Eli groaned my name, I fell tumbling into bliss, and in that moment of mutual release, I admitted that every act was a miracle with him.
