Page 35

They must have fallen asleep, because what felt like mere moments, but was obviously hours later, the sun was shining as Aemyra was jostled awake to find Maggie bursting into the room.

“Edwyn is well!” she cried.

Not waiting for them to dress, Maggie threw herself back into the corridor, her light footfalls disappearing up the stairs. Aemyra and Fiorean wasted no time in following.

Not caring that she was wearing nothing but a crimson robe, she tied the fastening tighter as Fiorean threw on a shirt and breeches.

Moments later, they were in the nursery.

Elear was guarding his son’s cot like a chimera.

Sunlight warmed the space, the fresh air drifting in from the window making all the difference.

“Isn’t it wonderful news, Brother?” Nael called out warmly, eyes widening as he saw Aemyra. “And sister?”

Aemyra was assessing Edwyn’s appearance. He was still shockingly weak, but he had some color back in his cheeks.

Ignoring the glare from Elizabeth, who was squashed onto the cot beside her son, Aemyra settled into a chair beside Maggie.

“Did you eat after prayers yesterday?” she asked.

“Fasting allows oneself to guard against gluttony and impure thoughts. It inspires deeper connection to our prayers,” Elear said pointedly.

Aemyra ignored him.

Where grief seemed to have broken Charlotte and Evander, it had hardened Elear and Elizabeth.

Fiorean lay a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Aemyra is the reason Edwyn is recovering. I brought her to the nursery yesterday.”

Elear’s eyes widened, and Elizabeth clutched her son so tightly against her chest that Aemyra feared for his circulation.

“How dare you go against my wishes?” Elear said, his sleek queue of auburn hair seeming to bristle at the thought.

“Because her mother possessed knowledge from Clan Beaton. Knowledge that she passed down to Aemyra,” Fiorean said gently.

Her chest ached at the mention of her mother, but Aemyra was glad that some parts of Orlagh lived on through her. She hadn’t been able to save Lachlann, but she had managed to save Edwyn.

Elear’s face was turning puce and Aemyra couldn’t resist.

“Your brains may have been addled by the Chosen into thinking women are less intelligent than men, but I can assure you that is most certainly not the case,” she said.

“Do enlighten us with your theories,” Nael interrupted before Elear could snap.

“That because the male organ demands so much blood, men couldn’t possibly possess more room for critical thinking than women?” Aemyra asked innocently.

Elear looked close to apoplexy and Elizabeth covered Edwyn’s ears until he squirmed.

Feigning innocence, Aemyra stood from her chair. “Ah, you meant regarding this mysterious illness?”

Nael bit his lip to stop himself from grinning as he shared a look with Fiorean.

Crossing to the tureen of porridge, Aemyra spooned out an enormous helping.

“You need not worry about contagion, it is not borne of natural causes,” Aemyra said, adding a pinch of salt to the bowl.

Turning, she found the eyes of everyone in the room on her.

“Your children are being intentionally poisoned,” she said, shoving an entire spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

Cheeks bulging, she watched Fiorean’s concerned gaze.

“But who would want to poison them?” Elizabeth asked worriedly. “Our children are not in line to the throne.”

Elizabeth was right, poisoning Evander’s eldest son could be interpreted as an attempt to prevent the throne from passing to another male after him. It had been what had made Aemyra suspect her own father at first.

But then the other children had sickened, and she had been forced to consider other options. Having learned of Alfred’s particular hatred of Dùileach, Aemyra had wondered if he was attempting to cull magic within the royal line. All of the royals were Goddess blessed, even with only an ember.

But surely he wouldn’t kill children. Certainly not when they were all male. That alone would shift the balance of power away from the Goddess and the matriarchy.

All Aemyra could do was shrug. “I know the antidote, but not the identity of the poisoner. I am sorry.”

As she watched the siblings share worried glances, Aemyra knew that empires had fallen for less.

“Perhaps they should Bond fire salamanders,” Fiorean suggested.

Elear looked offended. “Says the man with a dragon.”

Helping herself to another mouthful of porridge as they began prideful bickering, she thankfully tasted nothing amiss.

“I believe little Edwyn should have his breakfast now,” she interrupted.

“I do think you would be more welcome in the pigsty,” Elear commented as Aemyra made a show of sucking porridge off her thumb.

Fiorean’s eyes followed her lips, and her cheeks flushed.

“A princess should not be tasting food for poison,” he said, his tone clipped.

“There is only one room in which I take orders from you, dear husband, and it is not this one,” Aemyra replied, thrusting the bowl into Elizabeth’s hands.

Tension thickened the air between them as she made her way to the door. From the way Fiorean’s eyes were lingering on her muscular thighs, Aemyra knew he wouldn’t be far behind.

She didn’t make it out of the nursery corridor before Fiorean caught up to her.

Like a starving man, his fingers sought out the softness of her skin, the lushness of her curves underneath the robe.

After almost tumbling down the stairs in a tangle of limbs, Fiorean dragged her into the nearest room. Which turned out to be a privy.

Aemyra barely had time to catch her breath before he thrust her against the wall.

“Hardly a romantic location,” she said against his lips.

Fiorean growled deep in his throat as he pinned her wrists above her head. “You aren’t the candles and flowers type.”

Aemyra grinned ferally, her teeth clashing against Fiorean’s with the intensity of his kiss. She longed to drag her fingers through his hair, but his grip on her wrists was unrelenting even as she pulled against him.

Frustrated, she bit his full bottom lip and he drew back to look at her, his gaze heated.

She raised her eyebrows. “What type am I, then?” she asked.

Fiorean smirked before removing one hand from her wrists and unsheathing his dagger. His gaze dragged across the curves that were barely concealed by her robe. When he spun the blade expertly in his hand, Aemyra couldn’t help but whimper.

With his feral grin, she felt heat pool between her legs and she forgot to even struggle.

“You like to get revenge,” he whispered, dragging the edge of the dagger across her jaw. “But I make it a fucking art.”

Her mouth dropped open in anticipation as the blade skimmed the hollow of her neck. Fiorean was applying expert pressure, enough for her to feel the threat of the bite but not breaking skin.

Aemyra spread her legs and Fiorean chuckled huskily before taking a step back. Instantly enraged, Aemyra used her freed hands to aim for his throat.

Expertly ducking under her arm, Fiorean pinned it behind her back before thrusting her against the door, pressing her cheek to the wood.

She could feel the hard length of him pressing into her backside as he pulled her curtain of curls away from her neck.

“Did you think I would let you have all the fun with a dagger?” he whispered into her ear, the blade skimming down her spine.

Her breath hitched as she arched her arse against Fiorean’s erection.

His lips replaced the blade and her skin prickled in goosebumps as he nipped her neck with his teeth, the heat of his tongue sealing the marks into her skin.

“Fiorean…” she breathed, writhing against the door.

Another dark chuckle from behind her as a hand fisted in her curls. He pulled her head back to press his lips against hers in a branding kiss. Her mouth was open, her tongue claiming his as Fiorean tugged her hair to the point of pain.

When he released her again, Aemyra turned, her satin robe slipping down one shoulder. Dagger still in hand, Fiorean’s gaze darkened as he found her breasts heavy and swollen.

Aemyra was no longer restrained, but she didn’t move.

Another dagger twirl was all it took for the space between her legs to grow slick. His mastery of the blade was nothing compared to the way he had expertly coaxed pleasure out of her the night before.

The anticipation was killing her.

“Fiorean, please,” she breathed.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t succeed in killing me?” he whispered with dark intent. “You never would have felt this.”

The dagger traveled from her collarbone and across the sensitive skin of her left breast. Where the cool metal skimmed her skin, her breath hitched and she did her best not to move. His eyes never left her curves as the dagger circled one nipple, the taut bud hardening further as Fiorean caught his bottom lip in his teeth.

“You like danger, Princess?” he asked.

Emerald eyes met forest green and Aemyra felt beyond words. Nevertheless, she nodded.

Before she could flinch, Fiorean swiped the dagger and made a shallow cut just underneath her nipple. The moment she began to feel the bite of pain, Fiorean’s mouth clamped down on her skin, and she arched into him.

His tongue swiped across the tiny bead of blood, the slight pain only heightening the pleasure as he suckled, kneading the other breast.

Aemyra strained against him, needing more, needing everything he could give her.

When he passed her the dagger, she didn’t hesitate. His rumpled shirt was on the floor without a second thought, and she grazed the sharp edge of the blade against his chest. The cut was a mere echo of what she was capable of, but he didn’t protest as she bent her head and licked the ruby line of blood from his skin.

This time, their kiss tasted of iron and ancient promises.

Not an offering to a Goddess, but an offering to each other.

It broke their restraint instantly.

Before she could get Fiorean out of his breeches, he was already palming her slit.

“You are fucking soaking for me,” he muttered into her mouth.

Hooking her leg around his waist, Fiorean drove two fingers inside of her and circled her clit with his thumb until she tilted her head back against the door and cried aloud.

Fiorean chuckled, the fingers inside her beckoning pleasure from her core.

“Careful. I’m not sure my brothers will appreciate your cries of pleasure as much as I do.”

His fingers betrayed his words as he did something to her clit that had a garbled moan escaping her lips.

“Fuck them. If their wives don’t make the same noises, then they aren’t doing it right.” She gasped as a third finger joined the other two and she began tugging on Fiorean’s belt, needing more friction.

With a groan, he buried his face in her neck and bit down in frustration.

“One day I’m going to take my time with you,” he promised, pulling his fingers out of her. With his eyes on her face, he licked the sheen from the digits that had been inside of her.

“Fucking delicious,” he muttered.

Aemyra felt no shame when she throbbed at the words. Goddess, she wanted his face between her legs. She wanted to clutch the frame of their four-poster as she rode his face, to see his cheeks grow slick with her…but not today.

Fiorean seemed to sense her urgency and had his breeches off in a moment. His strong arms came around her waist and he pushed her back against the door. Hooking her legs around his hips, Aemyra tilted her pelvis up and he thrust into her in one hard motion.

She couldn’t help but cry out as the ridge of his cock granted her the friction she desperately needed.

Fiorean’s thrusts were unrelenting, hammering her against the door hard enough to make her healed head injury protest. But Aemyra didn’t care, she needed more, wanted him completely undone by her.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” Aemyra groaned between ragged breaths.

His hands clutched her waist hard enough to leave bruises as he drove into her, his pace punishing.

“I should have known your need for control would make you a perfect lover,” Aemyra gasped bitterly as he dragged his cock out of her before slamming back in at exactly the right angle.

Fiorean bit his lip again, his eyes on her exposed breasts as he worked her closer to the edge. “I’ll do the gentlemanly thing and pretend I didn’t hear you call me ‘perfect.’?”

Aemyra soon lost the capability of speech as the sensations coursing through her body rendered her incapable of forming a coherent thought. All she was aware of was the way his hands were grasping her, and how his cock felt within her.

“Give yourself to me, Aemyra,” Fiorean said through clenched teeth. “I want to feel you come apart around me.”

The strain in his voice made it obvious that he was trying to hold himself back until she had found her pleasure, but it was his command that was Aemyra’s undoing.

As much as she wanted to defy him in all other things, when he was buried within her, all she wanted was to obey.

So she did.

When Fiorean tried to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries, she bit his finger hard enough to draw blood and sincerely hoped that Elizabeth and Maggie were getting a good earful.

They should know that they deserved to feel this too.