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I can almost taste the whiskey I sipped as I walked, the scents of jasmine and night-blooming roses surrounding me like a fine perfume, reminding me of the buxom blonde I dallied with some moons prior. She’d smelled of forbidden nights and wicked fantasies—something we’d made a reality. Mmm. I’m shivering now just remembering it.

But back to tonight’s adventure…

As I walked to join my paramour for our scandalous tryst, an agreement made on the dance floor of a Lord and Lady’s pre-Rite ball, the maze rose on either side of me, its lush, leafy walls silvery-green in the moonlight. I reached out and touched the shrubs, the scrape of the sheared branches and leaves on my palm and fingertips reminding me of whiskers on delicate flesh.

Making my way to the center of the labyrinth, I recall thinking of what awaited me there. Not a mystical beast of lore, but a virile male of exquisite masculine beauty—though if I’m being honest (and I am always honest with myself) I’d hoped he would devour me in much more pleasurable ways.

Even now, here in my chambers, my face stretches as I remember the thought—and the ways in which those hopes were fulfilled.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I made my way through the twisting and turning hedgerows until I reached the center of the maze, finishing my last sip of liquor as I cleared the leafy wall, the delicate burn of the spirits like a warm hug. It lit me from within, but not as much as the scene spread out before me.

The gracious hosts of this evening’s activities—well, the ones inside the manor, anyway—had bedecked their labyrinthian garden with an ornate wrought iron table and chairs and tall sconce torches with flickering firelight.

The circular clearing was filled with flowering trees that I knew would be a vibrant fuchsia in the daylight but were the color of mulled wine in the incandescent glow of the moon.

But even that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, what had me stopped in my tracks, my gaze riveted, was the man sprawled on a cushioned chaise lounge, his taut, toned skin on display, nothing but the gossamer tail of one of the curtains affixed to the arch under which he sat covering his manhood.

His features were as I remembered yet made almost more ethereal by the moonlight. Chiseled cheeks and square jaw, a scar running along his cheekbone to his right temple. The healed wound only heightened his attractiveness and lent credence to his strength. He had an intelligence about him that you couldn’t escape, even from one look into his gorgeous green eyes, slightly hooded and highlighted by the slash of dark brows. His tawny hair was just above shoulder-length and wavy, giving him a roguish air and blatant sex appeal that had first drawn me to him across the ballroom.

I continued taking him in, my wandering gaze traveling leisurely from head to toe. Even from the distance, I could see that he was primed and ready for me, eagerly awaiting my arrival.

I clearly remember now the thrill that ran through me, the sense of power and pride. Just the anticipation of meeting me here had done these things to a man who had seemed so very much in control earlier in the eve. I also remember thinking—and hoping—that he’d exert some of that control over me.

He did not disappoint.

I walked toward him, putting an extra sway in my step, and running my tongue over the rim of the crystal glass I held, holding his gaze the entire way.

I set the tumbler on the table as I passed, watching, attention rapt, as General Ximien palmed himself through the gauzy curtain, the muscles in his bent leg bunching, the moonlight glinting off sweat already dotting his tempting skin the captivating color of amber.

When I reached him, I started disrobing, slowly, pieces and accoutrements of my festival attire falling to the dewy grass beneath my slippered feet, my gaze never leaving his.

He peered up at me all the while, the light in his eyes flashing, his teeth gripping the plump flesh of his lower lip, impressive chest heaving with breaths.

I asked him if he liked what he saw, and his only response was a deep groan as he gripped himself harder.

When I shed the last vestiges of my attire, I let my hair down, watching as a blue-black curl fell forward to flirt with a nipple. The silky feel of it added to the intense pleasure I felt starting to spiral up my spine, making the already tight buds bead almost painfully in the humid night air.

And still, he merely stared—the appreciation in his gaze ratcheting my desire. Something about the distance between us was even more erotic than if he’d reached for me, that charge in the air creating an invisible tether that turned into a buzz in my blood. Yet despite the excitement, I felt empty, bereft. In need of touch.

And so, I touched myself. I gripped my breasts, palming the heavy globes and pinching the tingling tips between my fingers, my eyes closing and head falling back on a sigh.

In a heartbeat, I felt the air stir and heard movement as General Ximien, one of Queen Ileana’s Royal Guards, jerked me against his hard body, his pulsing cock trapped between us, leaving a cooling trail of wetness behind as he shifted for better access. I suddenly wanted to know what he would taste like. Would he be smoky? Sweet? Tart?

But before I could voice those desires, he had my hair wrapped around a fist and his mouth on mine, a finger sliding into the crevice of my backside as he pulled me tighter against him.

It was no tentative kiss. It was one of claiming—unleashed passion and pent-up desire, coalescing into a firestorm of need. I remember thinking that if our first kiss was such, the rest of the night should be glorious, indeed.

I reached between us and palmed his impressive erection, the silky feel of his skin over the steel beneath wringing a groan from me. The Arae had blessed him. My fingers barely touched around the thickness of his shaft, and when I opened my hand, my fingertips finding the coarse curls of his groin, the time it took in my slide until the heel of my hand reached his tip was a bit shocking—in the most captivating and exciting way.

I recall thinking that I couldn’t wait to feel the stretch and burn of him. To see if his curve hit me in that spot inside that made galaxies burst to life behind my eyes.

He released my hair and hoisted me into his powerful arms. I wrapped my legs around him, the ridges of his abdomen creating a delicious friction that had me tightening my thighs and rotating my hips in his hold.

He raised an eyebrow and flashed me a devastating smile, whispering something about me being greedy before nipping my lip. I can’t remember if I said anything in return.

When he deposited me on the chaise, I wondered if we’d go straight to the fucking—I was certainly primed and ready—or if he’d have other ideas. Turned out, he had a great many other ideas.