Aether & Ash, page 29
His voice dropped lower, silk. “You are mine, regardless. Guilty or innocent, traitor or true—you’re still mine.”
His calloused fingers traced my jaw, forcing my gaze up. “Your past sins are irrelevant. But if you did manipulate me...” His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make my pulse stutter. “...I will enjoy making you regret it.” He paused. “And if you used me, then you will learn never to do so again.”
Then, as if the conversation was over, he turned away, reaching for the armor neatly arranged on the stone ledge. Dark, fitted leather reinforced with obsidian-steel plates, molded to the shape of his body with meticulous craftsmanship. The pauldrons curved over his broad shoulders. The insignia of the Heir, every buckle, every strap, every layer of armor only made him look more like the lord of war he was bred to be.
He pulled the vambrace onto his forearm, securing the straps with practiced ease, his fingers deft, his movements precise, completely ignorant to the fact that I was practically salivating.
And then—he left. Just like that.
I stared at the empty space where Damien had just stood, my mind reeling, grasping for a logical thread to follow. None came.
I had been bracing for something entirely different. I had even imagined possible scenarios in which this would end without my execution or exile, mentally drafting every way this confrontation might unfold during my prison time in the cave.
One: I would rage at him, my fury uncontained, proving my innocence. And in a moment of painful realization, he would regret everything. He would understand the depth of his mistake, his voice raw with guilt as he pleaded for my forgiveness, for mistaking me.
Two: He would come to me, solemn but willing to listen. I would explain, still furious, still wounded, but explaining, nonetheless. He would absorb my words, and then—apology. Maybe even desperate apologies, whispered between broken pride and heavy truths.
Three: He would figure it out on his own. Realize my innocence without my help, come to me on his knees, drenched in shame, begging for absolution. A grand, dramatic moment of truth.
But this?
This absolute madness? This scenario where he fully accepts my supposed betrayal and yet still proceeds to cherish and protect me, regardless? Who does that?
I huffed, exasperated, throwing a small fruit across the room. It landed with a dull thud against the cavern wall, utterly unimpressed by my turmoil.
You are mine regardless. The words echoed in my skull. So, what was I supposed to do now? Casually ask about the war...Oh, so now that you’ve fully embraced me as a traitor and all, mind catching me up on Atlassian’s downfall? Perhaps I can squeeze in a little more treachery while we’re at it.
Brilliant. That would go over well. I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples.
This was not how things were supposed to unfold. This wasn’t logical. This wasn’t sane. He was supposed to hate me. I was supposed to be his enemy. Instead, I was still his.
I exhaled slowly, letting the warmth of the cavern settle over me. The bath beckoned, perhaps a soak would do my overworked mind some good. Shedding the outer layers of my garments, I caught sight of my dresses neatly stacked beside Damien’s fighting leathers. Oddly intimate.
The door creaked open and closed behind me.
I turned to find Damien standing there, his gaze raking over me. He took me in, from the bare skin of my shoulders down to the thin layers that still clung to me.
I arched a brow, feigning nonchalance. “I thought you left?”
His lips curled slightly. “I said I would go today. Not now.”
He had flashed his body at me mere moments ago, knowing exactly what he was doing. Now, the temptation to return the favor was undeniable.
Tilting my head, I let my voice turn saccharine. “Did you come to give me a goodbye kiss before your grand departure?”
His eyes darkened. In two strides, he was before me, fingers curling under my jaw, tilting my face up to his. And then, he kissed me.
Not rushed, not devouring—lingering.
A soft, searing press of lips, as though savoring something he might never taste again. I returned it, just as slow, until he pulled back, his throat bobbing, his jaw tightening.
“You will be safe,” he murmured, his voice gravel-deep. “And taken care of. Please be a good girl till I return.” I doubted ‘please’ was something he said often—if ever.
I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I shrugged, fluttering a dismissive hand. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
And then, with absolute ease, I turned away. But my heart pounded against my ribs, too loud, too wild.
My fingers worked at the buttons of my last remaining layer, slipping each one free with unhurried precision. I felt his presence behind me, the silence stretching thick with something electric. The fabric slipped from my shoulders, pooling at my feet. My face heated.
I heard his sharp inhale from behind and a satisfied smile tugged at my lips.
“Or…” My voice was honeyed, laced with something that could not quite be called innocence. “I could be a not-so-good girl.”
A faint, unsteady sound escaped him. “What kind of game are you playing, Mirabelle?”
Even I don’t know, I mused to myself. Stepping into the bath, I reached for the small lever, unsealing the tunnel that allowed the warm water to flow in gentle waves. I dipped my hands, gathering the heat, and poured it over my face, trailing wet fingers slowly down the contours of my body. What are you doing! You might be looking like a dancing caterpillar.
With feigned confidence, half-tilting my head, just enough for him to see the curve of my lips, I murmured, “Please close the door tight behind your back…I need some privacy for what I am about to do.”
The growl that tore from him was anything but civilized.
His voice drew nearer. “Damn the time to wrap your head around this and all the rest of the nonsense, Wildcat.” And then, before I could even breathe, I was yanked from the bath. He whispered in my ears, “Don’t forget, you brought this upon yourself.”
A gasp escaped me as my damp skin met cool air, but before I could even grasp the motion, I was thrown onto the mattress, face down. I shifted onto my back, breath unsteady, just as his shadow fell over me.
Chapter 30
Damien
My gaze traced over her bare form as I shed the leathers, letting each piece fall carelessly to the floor. She feigned composure, her chin lifted, but the blush creeping down her neck betrayed her. The longer I looked, the deeper it spread.
She cleared her throat, forcing a smirk she did not truly own. “Don’t you have a war to attend to?”
Yes, the one I was about to forget. I stepped closer, tilting down my head slightly. “It can wait. A few more hours will change nothing.”
The battle was nearly at its end. One final strike to reclaim some more Majors, and then the Crown—the wish to put an end to it all.
I stripped off the outer leathers, letting the cool air touch my torso. I had no grasp on how I was taming the beast demanding that I take, that I flip her over and claim her in every way imaginable the moment she let her garments fall to the floor. My control hung by a fraying thread, my mind and body waging war. But I wanted this to be hers just as much as I ached for it to be mine.
I turned without another word, crossing the chamber to the door. The wooden slab groaned softly as I pulled it open and stepped into the dim corridor, shutting it behind me. Nathan was waiting for me, arms crossed, gaze sharp. His expression did not falter, but his eyes flicked over my bare torso, noting the absence of the battle gear I had entered with. He understood without asking, though he made a valiant effort to feign ignorance.
A muscle in his jaw twitched, two blotches of red coloring his otherwise impassive face. He cleared his throat as I spoke. “We will move at first light tomorrow. The Sovereign and the Elders will go ahead to the ruins with the Sages to place the Crown.”
“Yes, my Liege. I will have the Royals ready by the fire come morning.” His tone was formal. I nodded and turned back.
I pushed the door open once more, stepping back inside. The click of the latch echoed in the quiet.
She was waiting, eyes wide, green depths flickering between uncertainty and anticipation. Her breath came uneven, the rise and fall of her chest betraying the tempest within. She sat there, legs crossed, red mane covering her breasts, in a vain attempt at modesty, yet she was all magnificence, all naked. Her lips parted, though no words came. She did not need to speak.
I strode toward her. The moment my fingers brushed her jaw, she shivered—so slight, so fleeting that had I not been watching her with the predatory focus I was, I might have missed it. But I didn’t. I never missed anything about her.
A dark satisfaction curled through me as I tilted her chin up, dragging my thumb along the soft curve of her cheek. “You’re trembling,” I murmured.
Mirabelle’s lips parted as if to protest, but I was already closing the distance, sealing my mouth over hers. A gasp, soft and startled, melted into a whimper as I took my time, exploring her, coaxing the fight from her limbs even as she tensed beneath my touch. Her hands found my shoulders, fingers pressing into my skin like she meant to push me away—only to hesitate, second-guessing herself the moment she realized the depth of what she had gotten herself into. But I knew better. Knew that if I pulled away now, she would chase me, just as she always had, unknowingly, unwillingly, yet inescapably.
I pressed her back against the mattress, capturing both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. The sharp inhale she gave made my pulse thunder.
“Speak,” I commanded, voice rougher than I had intended. She tried to glare. “I think you shou—” but her breath hitched as I lowered my lips to the delicate skin of her throat, tracing the fluttering pulse there with the heat of my tongue.
Her head tilted back, offering.
A soft sound escaped her lips, a broken exhale. “You wanted to say something?” I taunted against her collarbone, biting down gently before soothing the mark with my tongue.
A breathless whimper was her only response.
“That’s what I thought.”
I dragged my free hand down the length of her body, tracing the elegant lines of her form, reveling in every shudder, every quiver. She was intoxicating, trembling beneath me yet arching into every touch, her body betraying the confusion in her mind.
“You think you can tempt me and get away?” I murmured against her shoulder, my fangs scraping her skin. She shifted restlessly under me. “Stay still.” I felt her pulse hammering beneath my fingertips. “I haven’t even begun with you.”
Her thighs tensed as I traced a slow path down her stomach, my palm flattening over the soft plane before skimming the curve of her hip, down to her folds and cupping her there—my touch met with the undeniable proof of her desire, slick and soaking against my palm.
A desperate sound left her lips, and I smiled against her throat.
“You’re already shaking. And leaking.”
“Shut up,” she bit out, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her, her face flushed.
“Say that again,” I urged, my voice molten, my fingers grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
“Shut—” Her words broke into a cry as I pressed and rubbed the heel of my palm against her wet core.
I chuckled darkly. I squeezed where I cupped her, slow against her aching center, just enough to have her back arching, seeking more, needing more.
“Look at you,” I murmured, my voice rough with something primal. “So eager, so sweet...”
She gazed up at me through half-lidded eyes, her lips kiss-swollen, her breath uneven. I lowered my head, capturing her mouth once more as I nudged her legs apart, my fingers found the delicate bundle of nerves and pinched. She let out a broken cry, caught between torment and bliss. “Shall I make you beg for it, Wildcat?” A wicked smile curled my mouth as I leaned in, my breath fanning across the shell of her ear.
Her fingers digging into my arms, she still breathed out a broken “Try me.” Oh, I intend to do far more than just try.
“Look at me,” I commanded softly.
She did. She held my gaze. And I rewarded her for it.
Sliding one finger into her, slowly, her arousal dripping down my fingers, watching the way her body clenched around the intrusion, so impossibly tight that I groaned against her throat. She was untouched.
A breathless sob left her lips as I curled my fingers inside her, stroking, coaxing her body into a rhythm, her hips rocking instinctively, as if searching for something more.
“More...” She started, then bit her lip, cutting herself off, forcing the words back.
I tightened my grip around her wrists, my lips curved as I watched her fight herself, refusing to yield. “Patience, Bella,” I murmured. “You are going to take what I give you, and nothing more.”
Her impatience grew, her desperation mounting with it. The remnants of a scattered sound, something close to please escaped her lips.
Now I truly smiled against her skin, pressing a slow, lingering kiss there. “Well, that was over in no time.”
And I increased the pace, pumping my fingers into her, feeling her tremble, feeling her walls flutter around me, gripping me, pulling me deeper. My thumb pressed against her swollen nub, circling, teasing, until her entire body began to tighten, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
She was close—I could feel it in the way her body clenched, in the way her head tilted back, exposing the elegant column of her throat to me. And I was aching, painfully hard, throbbing with need at the beautifully torturous sight before me.
“See yourself,” I rasped. “Falling apart so exquisitely. You should loathe yourself for how easily you surrender to me.” She tried to say something, but I slid another finger inside her, and whatever words had been forming on her lips melted into a cry.
“Shatter for me, Mirabelle,” I ordered. “Let me see you lose yourself.”
And then she did. Her body trembled violently as pleasure consumed her, her thighs clenching around my hand. I watched every moment, every ripple of bliss that wracked through her, memorizing the way she gasped, chatting my name over and over again, the way she fell apart beneath me.
“You have never looked more beautiful,” I murmured against her ear.
Before she could recover, before she could form a single thought beyond the pleasure still echoing through her limbs, I flipped her over, pressing her into the mattress, my body covering hers completely.
She was flushed, panting, her body still trembling in the aftermath of what I had just done to her. A satisfied hum came from her as I nipped at the dip of her spine, one hand roaming to the round curve of her backside, squeezing the lush cheeks, while the other was sliding beneath her to palm her breast. My palms kneaded her, eliciting low gasps from her lips.
“You look quite pleased with yourself,” I murmured against the soft shell of her ear, voice rough. She breathed heavily, the same satisfied hum slipping from her throat.
“Perhaps,” she whispered. I heard the smile in her voice. “But it seems you’re the one who can’t stop.”
A slow, predatory smile curved my own lips. “Ahh—look at that. The wild kitten who could only whimper my name recalls that other words exist?”
Her response was grabbing my forearm and sinking her fangs into my skin in a bold, defiant bite.
“Now, that was cute and reckless.” I slid my other hand to her throat, feeling the way her pulse fluttered beneath, squeezing enough to make her breath hitch. Instinctively, she released my arm from between her teeth, her lips parting on a sharp inhale.
The moment I released her throat, her voice, thick with temptation. “Press harder next time, my Liege. I think you like seeing me struggle beneath you.”
The last thread of control I had been clinging to make this slow frayed and burned to nothing.
I flipped her back onto her back in one swift motion. The air left her lungs in a startled gasp, her body pliant beneath me, her gaze alight with that maddening mix of challenge and desire.
“You want struggle?” My voice was nothing but rough-edged hunger. “Let’s see how long you can handle it.”
I crushed my mouth to hers, my teeth caught her lower lip, biting down, tugging, punishing her for daring to provoke me before soothing the sting with my tongue. I dragged my mouth down her breast, branding her. My lips closed over the peak, and my fingers went to the other one, pinching it hard, making her gasp. I sucked hard, my teeth grazing before biting just enough to make her jolt beneath me, a strangled gasp escaping her lips.
Her back arched, her fingers tangling in my hair, clutching, nails raking down my scalp to ground herself while her body trembled under the onslaught of sensation.
“Damien—”
Her breathy plea was addictive. My shaft throbbed painfully, every inch of me tight with need, burning, ready to explode before I even buried myself inside her.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I growled against her skin.
I pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her stomach, biting her there. Her body a symphony of tremors.
And I was going to give her exactly what she needed.
I nudged her legs apart, dragging my tongue along the inside of her thigh, my teeth grazing just enough to make her jolt. She gasped, her hips tilting toward me, searching.
She whimpered, half a curse, half a plea, and it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
I bit her inner thigh, soothing the sting with my tongue before shifting lower, pressing my mouth to her soaked, swollen core. Gently biting her swollen, reddened nub—again and again—until she cried out in pleasure, my name falling from her lips in choked sobs. Tears leaking to my pillow. I dragged my tongue over her, tasting her. And I ate her like I was starving. She was the most exquisite thing to ever grace my tongue.
I rose over her, my mouth brushing her temple before I lowered myself, caging her beneath me. Our bodies aligned, though mine eclipsed hers entirely. I reached down, lined myself up against her entrance, feeling the slick heat of her, welcoming, waiting. My thick shaft pressing against her soaked heated slit.
