Page 36 of Antiletum (The Nocturne #1)

I can hear the wasted bones of the dead rattling in the ground, clicking their teeth and singing for death to become life once again—answering the gathering call of our combined pent up necromancy. Ready to unleash with our bodies touching.

Val groans, leaning into me further, as viscerally moved by our simple contact as I am.

“Lie to me, Delaney,” he whispers breathlessly against my lips. Hovering close. Close enough it makes me hot and liquid all over. My breast heaves, my chest grazes him with each inhale. “Tell me you don’t feel it. I fucking dare you.”

That bold challenge, Val’s dominance behind it, sends the most delicious little flutter across my lower stomach.

Val’s fingers at my chin slide down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. They do a slow walk across my collarbone, making me shiver, his face leaning into me. Waiting for me to sell him a lie.

I want to. I want to tell him that I feel nothing .

But I can’t force the falsity out of my mouth while my hungry hips tilt forward, just barely, so they brush against his.

Val’s cock is shamelessly hard. Thick and heavy between his legs.

His eyes cut down to where the hottest places of our bodies draw towards each other, and he smirks.

Because he knows that I want him.

Looking up, the tip of his nose barely bumps the tip of mine. He does it again. Just a little harder.

An invitation to finish what we started before he shifted, showing me exactly who he is.

The brush of skin is soft, barely a whisper.

But it’s wonderfully primal and possessive; it sends a shock through my entire being, shaking my world.

Forcing me awake. Bringing me to life. I’ve never been so aware of all the sights and sounds and smells around me, reminding me of the intensity of my wedding ritual.

And just the same—all my focus is pinpointed on the man in front of me.

The only thing in existence. Where his nose touches mine.

How badly I want to hate him. And at the exact same time, I just can’t make myself commit to that loathing.

I should push him away. I want to push him away. But rising above my hurt and anguish and my utter rage directed towards Valledyn is the tugging pull of his magnetism. The headiness of undeniable desire between us. The promise of magic .

That yank has increased tenfold since he shifted in front of me, revealing his truth and calling to a deep rooted part of me that sees him as mine .

Our necromancy is buzzing and loud, the hum of magic lifting from every particle of dust, every spoiled piece of food, every half decayed carcass rotting in the streets and sewers—all across the city.

I moan, leaning into Val ever so slightly, the hairs on my arms lifting like they’re being pulled by a ventriloquist, controlling my actions. My hot mouth draws towards his, lips barely parting.

Val takes it as an invitation. He growls, “Yes,” and snakes his hand through my hair at the nape of my neck, his other gripping my hip.

Both of us work to cover that last bit of distance between our waiting mouths, lips meeting in the softest, sweetest kiss.

Achingly tender. Slow and tentative amidst this unstable want firing between us.

Potent, hot, and rife with pressure. I think I might explode, and if I do, I am taking him with me.

Another gentle press of mouths, promising so much more. And then another.

His lips are warm, plump, and utterly biteable, so I do just that. I let Val’s lip slip between my teeth, catching on one of the hoops in his flesh, and tug. He moans. Soft and masculine and painfully longing. My hands get lost in his dark hair. Soft as spidersilk. Spun just for me.

Our kisses become more frantic, hungry, harsh. Steeped in passion. Our lips move together seamlessly. Naturally. Knowing every single angle and motion, meeting each other in stride. As if we’ve done this a thousand times. As if this is all we’re meant to do.

And deos, we are good at it together.

Val’s head turns to the side, hand at my hip roaming slow up my body, mapping the path over my ribs and letting the pads of his fingers plink over each one.

Brushing past the edge of my breast in a teasing motion.

Landing to cup and stroke my cheek like it’s all that’s precious and treasured in the world.

In glorious contrast, Val’s fingers weaved in my hair pull—so deliciously hard it threatens to sting. A pain that I crave, but only ever by his hands. Because deep down, I know I’m in no danger from him. At least not my body.

Not that I’d ever say it out loud.

Heat blooms in my stomach with the way Val subtly guides my head, telling me what he wants. Directing me with possessive force. I open my mouth to let him in, panting and hungry. Hotter. More pliant.

I might just melt in his hands. Because I know that he will catch me. Never let me fall.

Val groans, low and drenched in desire and relief. It vibrates in my throat, calling it home. His tongue sweeps against mine; I give him mine right back. He tastes like clean spice and absolute man . His scent is woodsy, musky, backlit by the mouthwatering, subtle tones of his sweat.

Virile.

A whiny little whimper mewls from my throat, a needy thing I’ve never, ever made before. I like the way it sounds, so I do it again, pulling my husband closer into my body.

“Delaney,” Val barely whispers, struggling to keep caressing my mouth while he whispers his reverent prayer.

I wrap my arms around his back, mangled flesh puckered against my palm from a wound long since healed.

It releases something fierce in me. Protective and angry.

I want to find whoever put that hole in his body and give them a thousand to match until they bleed out in my palms. Present him with the blood I drew for him .

There’s a snap between us, my husband and I—invisible but felt. Mighty like the wind.

It’s not a conscious thought, bringing our magic together.

Letting the pieces of us that reach for death meld into one and burst from our skin, clinging to each other tighter.

I fit into Val as if being against his body is the only place I was ever meant to be.

Like we aren’t complete unless we’re like this. Together and touching.

My hands stroke through my husband’s hair then travel back down to his chest. Unsure of where I want to touch him most, but always keeping him close.

Life breathing magic billows from our pressed, hot bodies and washes against a wall of dried, thorny briars, their rose blooms deadened from the intense summer sun.

We moan when our magic settles into petals and stalks, transforming the brown hues of expiration into thriving green and vermillion, because this is what we do together.

Val pushes against me, my back digging into the stone wall of a mausoleum, his hard cock big and hot against my stomach while his body towers over mine.

Oh, but how it felt, when that cock was inside of me.

Hard and warm and stretching me wide enough it hurt.

I loved the pain his pleasure delivered, using Val’s ceremonial cloak to force him deeper and deeper into the most intimate parts of myself, piercing into the very depths of my soul. Marking it. Making it his.

I felt how he fucked me for days after he was done.

My pussy clenches. Tight, hot, and achingly wet.

Maybe I’ll come right now, from nothing more than remembering how Val fucks while his tongue is in my mouth.

Maybe I’ll push him down to his knees in front of me.

Tell him to kneel in the grass while I raise my dress.

Tell him to push my thin panties to the side and keep using his tongue, just like this , but press his head in between my thighs.

Fuck his face right here and now. Make him tell me how much he likes it.

Ask him to spit on my clit then lap it right back up.

With that wave of desire comes another release of magic, my husband’s matching mine, our kiss frantic and messy, needing more.

More .

I think I’ve demanded such out loud. Val harshly grabs my thigh, dimpling it in his owning hand and brings it to rest at his naked waist, biting my lip until I cry out. “You like that?” Val asks.

“Yes,” I mewl, and he kisses me harder.

His palm wraps tighter around my ankle, pressing my leg harder into his back.

Rough. Incredibly close. “Remember our wedding?” He brings his hand between us, palming his cock and rubbing softly.

I lock my leg tighter on his waist, denying distance between his warmth and mine, pinning his hand between us.

His knuckles brush against my dress that clings to my soaking wet pussy while he slowly jerks his cock, my body locked tight and begging to come. “Remember how we moved together?”

I think about it all the time.

All I can do is nod and grind myself against him.

He’s a very giving partner. With nothing but soul bending kisses and rubbing his knuckles over me through my clothes while building his own pleasure. I think this is the best I’ve ever felt in my life, my husband teaching me the definition of to want .

Val meant it when he told me I don’t know what it’s like to really be fucked by him, I understand that now. Now that he moves and moans and touches with a sensuality that I can’t quite comprehend. Unhurried but rough. Searching but expert.

We might fuck right now. It’d be so easy. To let this lascivious kiss transform into more. I’d slowly turn around. Put my palms to the wall. Spread my legs nice and wide, enough to be bent forward and fucked by my big, attentive husband who’s devotion is unmatched. His love for me unhinged.

Maybe I should ask Val if he wants me. If he wants to settle himself where it’s wet and warm and tight. Tell him to feel me from within. To turn my body inside out, over and over, until I simply cannot breathe.

The dusty bones resting in the mausoleum clack to life, the body within rattling at the locked door, trying to get out.

My eyes open to witness the kaleidoscope of life bursting into existence in this place that honors death. It’s glorious. And beautiful. And everything we were ever meant to do.

Just like with the Heartstone in the Strigi Forest. I can see us now, despite Val’s assurance that he wouldn’t partake, our bodies touching to expel the same might of magic into the last two Heartstones, and ultimately raising the Nocturne.

Bring deos back to life.

But I refuse to accept the damning word destiny . I spurn Val’s insistence that our marriage is divine. Because that would be admitting justification for his actions to see it all through.

Rainah’s grave is just beyond Val’s shoulder, the sight of it stops my heart in my chest, stills the languid roll of my body into my husband’s. My blood frosts and devours the heat of desire.

With a loud, wet noise, I pull my face from Val’s, all the while pushing his bare chest with my palms, breaking the passionate kiss and how close we were to taking each other in this graveyard, only stopped by the barrier of my clothes.

Val retreats without hesitation, cock still hard and dripping at the tip, chest rising and falling in the subtle glow of the moon. He backs away several feet, giving me space.

We’re going to bring her back . The whisper of words passed matches the current pleading in Val’s eyes, knowing exactly what returned this chasm between us, even while I’m still loose and wet and aching with want.

The ramifications of the metaphorical blood on Val’s hands breaks me fully from the spell of my husband.

My hand covers my hot, swollen lips, like I could wipe away the mistake I just made—forced back into the ugly light of reality.