Page 156 of A Cursed Son

The rumble of his laughter caresses my entire body, and then he plants a kiss on my collarbone. “You’ve always been my wife.”

I have to laugh too, perhaps laugh at my previous folly, at all the time I avoided facing my own feelings. It’s so much easier to surrender to them, to let my heart take the reins.

He lowers my breastband and I feel the wet touch of his tongue on my nipple. My breath hitches and my back arches, while I feel a pool of warmth in my core. He undoes my breastband, and then kisses my body slowly.

Power ripples from each of his kisses as he opens and lowers my trousers then kisses my inner thigh, something wonderfully magical about his soft lips and the tips of his lovely hair on my skin.

Slowly, he undresses me, until I’m only wearing my undergarment. He runs his hands over it, then, slowly, touches under it, his rings grazing the skin near my slit, teasing me. I feel as if there’s fire in his touch, and a fire awakening in me, an ember about to become a gigantic, brilliant blaze.

He’s so beautiful with his wide shoulders, brilliant hair, and even his scars. Our eyes meet and I sit up again. He moves closer and kisses my face, then whispers in my ear, “Lie down. Lie down and let me adore you. You want me to make you my wife, let me make you.”

I run my hands over his chest, and together, we move back, until I feel soft leather caressing my back, his chest against my nipples. I close my eyes as he kisses my neck and caresses my core, close my eyes as he pulls down the last piece of fabric covering any part of my skin.

I’m naked in body and mind, I have nothing to hide, nothing to fear. My chest is moving up and down, so much air coming in and out, so much feeling renewing me.

He stares at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. “You’re more magnificent than even in my dreams, wife.”

“I thought I was the same person.”

He runs his hand over my shoulders, then descends slowly, caressing my ribs, hips, until he reaches my thighs. “You’re real. And I’m not going to say you’re solid.” He pinches me softly and chuckles. “You’re quite soft.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a happy smirk. “And mine.”

“Always.”

He kisses my lips. “Always.”

His body is over mine now, and even though he’s resting on his arms, part of his weight is over me. It feels as if he’s securing me in place, grounding me, reminding me that this is indeed real. And even though he hasn’t removed his trousers, I can feel something else real in there.

I smile. “You, on the other hand, are quite solid. Rock solid, I’d say.”

The low rumble of his laughter is a soft caress that reaches my core.

Our lips meet again, as my hands explore his back, drinking in the feel of his skin against my hands. I touch his waistband, his belt. I want everything off right now, I want him inside me, I want to feel his entire body against mine.

He parts our kiss and goes to his knees, his eyes so dark and yet seeming hot like embers, as he opens his belt then undoes the laces. I want to help him, get him undressed as fast as possible, and yet I’m mesmerized watching his ringed fingers open his trousers, then finally seeing the member that I’ve only glimpsed—and touched and kissed—in dreams before.

I’m ready. I want this, him, everything, and I think he knows it as he lies over me again. Our faces are so close that our breaths mingle. Our bodies are so close that our souls intertwine.

There’s something magical in the touch of his fingers, in the feel of his skin, in the kisses he claims from my lips. I could melt in those kisses. Die and come back again a thousand times. Become a new person in his arms.

He kisses my cheek, my chin, then sets those lovely eyes on me. There’s fire in them, a fire that’s life, love, a fire that’s the complete opposite of destruction.

“Astra,” he rasps. Why does it feel so good to see him breathless, see him losing control? “You need to tell me what you like.”

I can’t help but smile. “I like you, Marlak.”

The tips of his fingers stroke my face gently, so gently. “You undo me when you say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“You said it the first time when we were headed to the Misty Court. I wondered then if I imagined it, wondered if the dreams were addling my mind, but I heard a current of tenderness, of sweetness, lacing the word.” He swallows. “It was when I thought—or hoped—this could be real.” His hand moves from my face to my hips. “Now you’re here. My wife, my love, my azalee.”

My breath gets caught in my throat and my heart pauses for a second. My love. I want to reply, tell him he’s my kindred soul, and yet I can’t find my voice. Perhaps I want to leave his words echoing in my mind, their energy filling the silence surrounding us, our wordless declarations.

I think he understands what I say with my eyes, as he kisses the corner of my lips.

No, I know what he wants me to say. A single word.

“Marlak,” I whisper. I’m still not sure if I took that long to say his name, but I can believe him when he says I let my feelings slip through the cracks of my ridiculous armor.