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“Good. Don’t think,” she said, inhaling deeply along the crown of my hair. “Thinking doesn’t help either of us right now.”
She shifted above me, and I felt the telling press of her cock in the confines of her leathers.
“Does this mean you believe me?” I queried, hesitantly raising a hand to her cheek. “That I didn’t try to kill you?”
A grunt was her only response, leaving me frustratingly uncertain.
Moments later, she sat back, placing her weight on my calves instead.
“Have you ever… With an Alpha…” My throat clicked as I tried to get the words out.
But I didn’t have to. Zoei shook her head.
“No.” Her lips were slick with saliva. “I’ve never desired an Alpha. Not once.”
My fingers turned into a caress in her hair. “Me neither.”
“It doesn’t feel odd,” she confessed, swiping her tongue over her lips. “I thought it might, but it doesn’t.”
I nodded. “It feels… natural. Right.”
She eased off my legs and settled on the ground, our shoulders flush against each other. For long moments, neither of us spoke. Her aura turned an unfamiliar color—a light yellow that shimmered like the glow from the solar lamp.
A quick inhale of her scent proved enlightening.
Zoei Highblade, King of Agnivale and sworn protector of the southernmost kingdoms, was vulnerable. Off-center. Her scent throbbed with it, sour and unpleasant.
“I think a part of me has always known you feel right, Olly,” she whispered.
In the quiet of the tower, I reached for her, bridging the distance that had torn us apart all those years ago.
Chapter Eighteen
Zoei
The bed was soft under my back as Olympia positioned herself on top of me. She was a vision of sensuality, her scent twirling around us both like the tightest of silks. I was awash in her warmth, her desire.
All other thoughts were pushed aside—the small part of me that still thought she was behind the assassination was silenced with brute force. Logic had long since fled my being.
I was left with nothing more than primitive desire.
The soft glow from the window traced the contours of her lean form, casting shadows that danced in harmony with every movement. Her eyes, deep pools of need, made my heart quicken.
I was a captive to the seduction in her scent—a willing prisoner to the vision that was Olympia Summerstream. My breaths caught sharply as her fingers drew lazy lines down my chest.
With every passing moment, I was drowning in her scent, her touch, her nakedness—intoxicated by the promise of a passion that transcended the boundaries of reason.
It was difficult to admit that I was no longer in control. I was adrift in a sea of her allure, willingly lost in the depths of her sensuality, yearning for the moment when our desires would collide.
She undid the buttons on my tunic, her fingers trembling as she struggled to pull them through the loops. Her anticipation to see me naked was palpable, and I lay back, letting her do as she wished.
“You could help me, you know,” she chastised. “Instead of just lying there watching me like a creep.”
A smirk tilted my lips. “I enjoy watching you, Olympia. Especially when you don’t have a stitch of clothing on.”
“Pervert,” she rebutted, although her cheeks and chest flushed pleasantly. I had never seen someone blush down to the tops of their breasts before.
“Only for you,” I said with a wiggle of my brows, and watched her roll her eyes.
