Page 25 of Blackwarden

He looked down at our joined hands. While I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at him since coming to his Gatehouse, I hadn’t been quite this close for so long.

There was a softness to his face, it made my fingers itch to touch him.

An unnaturally beautiful quality to every line, every curve, and I wondered how much of his appearance had been shaped by magic to appear so perfect.

How much of him was truly this gorgeous?

When his eyes met mine, my body tightened, not expecting his crestfallen expression.

“I have to take you to the Unseelie Court tomorrow.”

“I know,” I said, tilting my face toward his, my eyes focusing on the shape of his lips as he spoke.

“You won’t recognize me there.”

I blinked hard a few times, confused. “Wait. What does that mean?”

“That’s all I can...” He closed his eyes in pain, and I knew that was more than I should have been told.

I reached without thinking, cradling his cheek with the palm of my hand. “I’d hope I could recognize you no matter what you look like.”

He smiled sweetly. “You’re not like the others.”

This drew my curiosity more than I wanted to admit .

“What?”

“Your questions, your emotions. I don’t know how but.

..” He leaned his face into my hand, his eyes slipping closed as he seemed to savor the feel of my fingers on his skin.

“I feel awake for the first time in...” He trailed a hand up my arm to my shoulder as his gaze fell on my lips. “...entirely too long.”

I had craved this, his slender fingers tracing the lines of my neck to my jaw.

He closed the distance between us, leaning down with slow intention until his lips gently brushed over mine.

It was the softest touch before he pulled back, watching me, as if asking for permission.

I gave it to him, leaning closer until our lips met.

Languorous and lazy, he kissed me, running his tongue along my teeth.

So achingly slow, like we had all the time in the world for this moment.

He kissed over my jaw, and my eyes slipped closed as he followed my neck down to the swell of my breasts.

The memory of my dream set a fire loose in my veins.

Keres in nothing but gold chains and a sultry expression.

But the image melted away, replacing his black hair with midnight blue and horns.

It was this Keres I desired. The one whose hands were roaming over my dress and gripping my ribs with thinly veiled restraint.

A vulnerable Fae who had found a way against whatever this curse was to let me in.

Dark and terrifying, yet gentle and kind—a contradiction that soaked into my need and ignited it with a thousand braziers.

I snuck my hand beneath his shirt, savoring the soft skin of his stomach. He flinched as I ran my fingers higher over his chest, and I relished the way his breath hitched at my touch.

“Your hands. I’m not used to such gentle...” His voice was so soft, his eyes, two bottomless black wells of hunger, catching and holding the breath in my lungs with their intensity.

I slipped my other hand beneath the hem, just to test if he’d push me away. Instead, he wove his fingers tightly into my hair and kissed me again. I followed the lines of his muscles to his shoulders, pulling his shirt up with my arms. He grinned against my lips as he pushed my hands away.

“Is my shirt a problem for you, Ms. Greene?”

“Among other things.”

He chuckled and pulled it over his head, a flare of heat plummeting through me.

Before he could stop me, my lips found his chest. He gasped, a beautiful sound I hadn’t expected.

There was so much honesty in the way his breath caught, the muscles in his abs flexing as he took both my wrists in a firm grip.

“Ms. Greene...”

I wanted him to chastise me, to tell me I should stop. He just stared instead, his cheeks turning a delightful pink. Was he blushing? I didn’t think that would be possible. I couldn’t be the first person to kiss his chest.

“Yes, Keres Blackwarden?”

He stiffened when I used his full name. A name he hadn’t been able to confirm. I hadn’t even been certain I was right, but based on the way he looked at me now, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tight, a fear so deep in the curve of his brows, I could only assume I was correct.

He swallowed hard as I pulled a hand free, my fingers unable to resist tracing over the curve of his neck as I leaned forward.

Again, I worried he’d push me away. But he tipped his head back, inviting me in as I kissed the column of his throat, tasting his skin, the oakmoss and earthy scent of him filling my lungs.

“Seems the Gatehouse has answered some of your questions,” he said with a breathy voice that settled in my core.

Mother save me, I wanted him. I knew there was a very real chance everything I saw was a glamour, made perfectly to my tastes, but I didn’t care.

Did it matter what he looked like? I desired so much more than his beautiful face.

I desired him . Every question he refused to answer, every wicked smirk that tugged at his impossibly soft lips, every sharp word he spoke, every breath.

I wanted Keres to destroy me entirely. I wanted him to tear my desires apart and reshape them into his desires.

I wanted him to leave me with nothing but more wanting.

His breath hitched as I tucked my thumbs into the waist of his pants, his hands hovering at his sides as though he was too scared to touch me.

“You don’t know what you ask for,” he said in a tight whisper.

I leaned back and glared at him with as much conviction as I could.

“I know exactly what I ask for.”