Page 405 of Bitten By the Fae

“And you can help them in that quest,” I told her, my thumb tracing her cheekbone on my way to fondling her hair once more. “Being an abomination doesn’t make one evil, little star. The soul is corrupt with or without power. Constantine is proof of that. He’s a Midnight Fae who will destroy anyone and everything that stands up to his methodology for order. Hell, he took an inclusive council that worked positively together and turned them against their own hearts—the women who are the true figureheads.”

It was despicable and wrong and so expertly crafted that I couldn’t help developing a smidgen of respect for the bastard.

My father used to tell me that admiring one’s enemies was to understand and never underestimate them.

I understood that now.

And I would never underestimate Constantine again.

“Constantine succeeded because he knew what weakness to exploit,” I continued. “Emotion. What we need to do is show him how powerful emotion can be, by demonstrating how powerful our bonds are together.”

I pressed my palm to the ground on the other side of her head, using it to balance myself as I leaned over to graze my lips across hers.

“We’re going to train you, little star. We’re going to help you through each trial. We’re going to ensure you become the most powerful queen the fae have ever seen.” I pressed my mouth to hers once more, my voice lowering to a whisper. “And when you fully ascend, we’re going to kneel at your feet and show those Elders what a real council looks like.”

She stared up at me for a beat. “Kiss me.”

I brushed my mouth against hers, lingering for half a second before pulling back to study her features.

“Again,” she whispered.

A variety of comments populated my thoughts, several of them taunts regarding her other mates leaving her needy for more. But rather than voice them, I adhered to her sensual command, this time parting her lips with my tongue to properly taste her.

We’d engaged in dreams, all of which resulted in me wearing something very similar to this while I pleased her with my hands and mouth.

But I wanted to experience the real her. The physical being. Mymate.

Feeling her beneath me, her hands roaming up my back, was so much better than a fantasy. She knew me now. She accepted me. She trusted me. She couldfeelme, not just on top of her, but inside her.

And she wanted me.

I sensed her yearning, her innate recognition of what we meant to each other, and her subsequent happiness with our connection.

No dread. No doubts. No refusal.

Just pure, unadulterated acceptance.

It was the most amazing realization to learn that my mate desired me as I desired her, to know she considered me hers just as I considered her mine.

“Aflora,” I whispered, deepening our kiss with my palms pressed to her cheeks to angle her appropriately.

Her nails drew down my back, her touch impatient yet adoring.

She wanted more.

She wanted me.

She wanted this.

I’d been with a few other women but had never felt connected to any of them. They weren’t mine. They weren’t Aflora. It was something I hadn’t understood at the time, my intent always having been to only bond with Aflora for her protection and as a debt to be repaid to her parents.

Then I saw her again.

Felt her.

Worshipped her with my tongue.

And I’d never experienced such completion as I had in that moment.