Page 48 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)

B ryson groaned against the assault of Weylyn’s tongue. He pillaged. He conquered. He kissed her like she was the very air he breathed and could only find survival on her lips. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, groaning and grinding against him.

The pulse of her rapid heartbeat matched the drums and songs of the night. Her moans were drowned out by the erratic calls of the wildlands and creatures of Unseelie. She knew eyes were on her, but eventually even that faded as her hands scraped against Weylyn’s body, searching for purchase. Searching for more.

His hands gripped her on the backs of her bare thighs, shoving the hem of the thin material of the dress up the curve of her ass. Cold air hit her, pebbling her skin in gooseflesh. She didn’t care about being exposed. She didn’t care about anything except the dizzying sensation he provoked, the way he set her nerves on fire.

His arms clamped around her and he lifted her with ease into his arms. She moaned, legs wrapping around his waist in a vice. She didn’t want to be pried away from him. Couldn’t. It didn’t matter that there was danger around; it was like it didn’t exist in the first place. Her entire world tunneled into this single moment of being with him.

He gripped her ass tightly, grinding her down against his length. And then they were moving. Her world was spinning, and she had to tear her mouth from his to gasp for breath. The stars became even more of a blur above them. And when she blinked at Weylyn, it was to find golden powder from her skin transferred to his.

Her lips tingled where he’d kissed her. And still she craved more. But he was moving away from the fray of dancing bodies. Past the sounds of the party. Away from food and drink that would trap them in the court forever. Far enough away that they could still hear the music, but it dulled to a low, throbbing tempo. Far enough away they had privacy to be alone.

And once they were, he lowered her to the ground, her back touching cold earth. The trees surrounded them, and the sky loomed high above. The earth thrummed with the beat of dancing feet, making her heart pound faster and faster.

Weylyn kept her caged between his arms, hovering above her. His dark braid slipped over his shoulder to tickle her cheek.

Her hand lifted, dusting away the golden powder from the ridge of his sharp cheekbone. He caught her wrist, eyes and nostrils flaring. He brought her fingers near his mouth and licked a line of powder from the tips of her fingers.

The hot, wet flick of his tongue made Bryson moan. “Weylyn.” Her hips thrust up to meet his, but he didn’t take. He did nothing except stare down at her.

The desire was obvious on his face, but he didn’t take. He didn’t consume.

“Why won’t you touch me?” she demanded. “You would have... before. Before you would have.”

She didn’t know where the uncertainty of her own thoughts were coming from. This self-consciousness that invaded her system. It was the drugs, she was sure of it, clouding everything from her common sense to her confidence.

“Before you would have taken me right here, fuck the consequences. So why won’t you do so now?” She hated how weak her voice sounded, but hated how she felt without his weight bearing down on her even more.

“Bryson.” Weylyn lowered until the tip of his nose touched her own. “You are a fool if you think I don’t want you.” His tongue darted out to tease the seam of her lips, but before she could open her mouth, he pulled away. “I want to fuck you. Claim you. Make you mine.”

Desire pulsed, hot and heavy between her legs. “Do it,” she ordered, thrusting her hips up. “Do it. Please. Please, please, please.”

Slowly, Weylyn shook his head. “No. Not like this. Not here.”

Tears slid against the scars around her eyes. Weylyn kissed them away, as if that could soothe the hurt he’d caused.

“Don’t cry.” His words were somehow both gentle and harsh simultaneously. “You’ve been drugged with Unseelie magic.” He dusted the remaining powder from her skin. “You aren’t thinking clearly. I won’t do it. Not like this.”

“But I need you.” Her hips lifted against his, moving in an attempt to find the friction she needed. But all it did was create fire against her too-sensitive clit. She whined, feeling the tears streaming down her face. Her heart beat harder, harder, and her breaths came out shallow. Her insides felt hollow. Empty. She needed to be filled, consumed.

Her hands raked against his shoulders, tugging at his shirt, at his skin.

“Weylyn, I need you.”

He dropped his forehead to hers, inhaling the scent of her. He closed his eyes, opened them again. The gold consumed like fire.

“Just a taste.”

It took far too long for her to realize that he’d spoken in her mind.

“Just a taste.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please.”

Weylyn’s head dipped, his mouth meeting hers. She groaned. It wasn’t enough. His tongue slipping and sliding, it could never be enough. Even as she met him with equal passion, she needed more. More. More.

His body splayed against hers and suddenly, they were swallowed with flames. Lost in their own world, lost in one another, unable to come up for air. Her fingers clawed and tugged, shoving the hem of his shirt up so she could feel the warmth of his skin.

Weylyn nipped and bit at her mouth. His canines elongated, snapped as he broke apart. She arched her neck in invitation, praying for a bite that didn’t come. His tongue pressed against her pulse, the soft graze of his canines pressing down but not breaking the skin. He sucked, marked her, all the while his hands explored every inch.

They roved over her body, claws tearing through the material of the flimsy dress. The material parted and so did her legs as he pressed a thigh between them. Her hips lifted against his thigh, marking her scent and arousal all over him.

“Ride me, little mate.” Weylyn’s breath came out choppy against her neck as she did what he bade. She moved against his thigh, rubbing against the rough material.

“More,” she breathed.

Weylyn’s hands slid over her outer thighs, up to her hips, pressing between where their bodies connected until he met her wet center.

A mewling sound came from Bryson’s throat. She didn’t care who heard it. The entire world could shatter from her screams of pleasure and she wouldn’t care. No. The only thing that mattered was this moment. Their bodies colliding. His fingers sliding over her folds and dipping inside.

He stretched her, scissoring two fingers through her channel while his thumb strummed a rhythm against her clit.

It didn’t take long for her body to detonate. For her to be consumed. For her to explode with his name pushed against her lips. She cried out and saw the stars. The dizziness invaded and the entire world spun. The tunneled vision only darkened further. There was no light at the end. There was only darkness flickering at her from every angle, even as she tried to chase it away with the light.

It didn’t work.

It closed in.

And all Bryson could do was give in.

Bryson fell limp in his arms. Her pleasure had crested, shattered, and down their bond he felt the earth-quaking way everything changed between them. Like the invisible string that connected Weylyn to Bryson was pulled taut, stretched, and blanketed over them both. Not solidified, but a consumption just the same.

She fell languid against him, eyes fluttering closed. Her heart still pounded, and Weylyn stilled, waiting until her heart resumed its regular tempo. Only then did he remove his fingers from her warmth. Only then did he dare to pull away from her.

Bryson, he was finding, was as addicting as the Unseelie powder clinging to her nose. There were still remnants of that glittering gold left, and he swiped at it with his thumb until there was no trace of it on her skin.

His mother had done this on purpose.

The effects of that drug were something Weylyn knew all too well. The feeling of it coursing through the system, the languid way it made the bones liquid, loosened the tongue, and above all, tore away your inhibitions.

His family had let loose the drug, perhaps hoping it would be temptation for Weylyn, temptation enough that he would indulge in it. Lower his guard enough that he would not realize who was currently hiding in the shadows and watching while he took his mate.

He sighed and threw a glare over his shoulder, making out the form of his brother in the darkness, sitting on a branch like a predator. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. His claws raked across bark, and it flaked against the ground.

“Quite the show,” he mused.

“I am sure it was.” And if Bryson had been sober, she would have realized someone was watching them, waiting exactly for what had happened to happen. She never would have indulged in him otherwise. That was the consequence of those drugs. They made one lose their senses almost entirely, and Weylyn was sure the iron in the air wasn’t helping her.

He found himself adapting to the court rather quickly. What had been painful became nothing more than a dull ache, his magic entwining with the iron.

“She is very pretty when she comes.”

Weylyn did not tense, for he was sure that’s what his brother wanted. He wanted to unsettle Weylyn. He wanted him feral, out of his mind like mated males usually were. While he did not relish in the thought of his slimy brother watching his mate come apart from the shadows, nudity never bothered him in the slightest. He was from Unseelie, after all, and inhibitions were low, orgies were frequent.

Bryson wouldn’t appreciate the fact that he’d known they’d had an audience. But he was too weak to resist her wants and aches. He’d needed to touch her. Taste her. Let her fall apart into bliss and sleep. If only to give him this single moment of privacy with his brother.

A brother whom he very much wanted to kill.

Weylyn sat next to Bryson’s sleeping form, dusting his hands against his pants.

“Very,” he agreed.

Cassimir chuckled low and took a leap from the tree, landing like a prowling cat on the ground. He straightened to his full height, claws gleaming and in front of him like weapons. “A shame she has been tethered to you.”

A shame. Yes. A great shame, and yet Weylyn did not give an absolute single fuck. The fact was they were tethered. It didn’t matter if she deserved better or not. If there were far better Fae out there for her. It did not matter that she was in love with another man. None of it did, because Bryson was his .

“Have you come to insult me, brother?” Weylyn asked casually, leaning back on his hands. His head dropped back, and his eyes opened to look at the stars.

The stars were far brighter in Unseelie than anywhere else. If he looked close enough, he could make out the Wild Hunt in the distance, streaking through the sky, their glorified cries rocking the clouds like thunder, their whips striking like lightning.

“No,” Cass said. “I have come to issue an invitation.”

Weylyn blinked slowly in his brother’s direction. “An invitation,” he echoed. His lips curled up into a smile. “How hospitable of you.”

Cassimir rolled his eyes. Of all his brothers, Cass was the one who irritated Weylyn the least. “We are family,” he said. “It is high time we put the past behind us. Considering you and your mate will be in Unseelie indefinitely...”

Weylyn did not show his alarm. He knew what his brother was saying was bullshit. If anything, his siblings would hold a grudge until the end of time, and even past the afterlife.

Not even Weylyn could forgive himself for what had happened. No one ever would. He had contended with that fact long ago.

“You think me a fool,” Weylyn whispered.

“That I do.”

It was Weylyn’s turn to roll his eyes. “What is it you want? Truly?”

“An outing,” Cass said. “It is The Hunt. You will participate come morning.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Cassimir’s brows kicked up to his shoddy hairline.

“Must I repeat myself? Have you lost your hearing in your ancient age?”

“Sarcasm does not suit you, little brother.” Cass turned to walk away. “Early morning,” he reminded Weylyn. “Kiss your little mate goodbye and ready your spears. Our brothers are so looking forward to having you back for The Hunt.”