Page 21 of Fae-King It (Mystical Matchmakers #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dominique’s head spun as Ronan kissed her.

No, not Ronan.

Her husband.

Not only had she married him, but he loved her. She could see it and feel it now that the curse was gone. The dark cloud that hovered over her for the past few decades was gone.

She had blamed herself for so long that it seemed only natural for him to do the same when he came to her with his idea of a marriage of convenience. Maybe she should have been angry with him, kept him at arms’ length, but she couldn’t. Somehow, even when he was angry with her, when he was cold and distant, he’d managed to slip past her defenses. He defended her and protected her, even when she thought he loathed her.

Maybe that made her weak, her willingness to forgive him so quickly, but she didn’t care. Now that the curse was gone, she could feel his love for her and the bond that vibrated between them.

Soulmates.

When he’d asked to bite her, to mark her as his, her heart slammed against her chest and began racing. She’d very nearly begged him to do it right there in the hall. A primal part of her wanted to carry the brand of his teeth on her skin, to show the world who she belonged to.

And she wanted to bite him in return. She wanted to look at him and know that he wore her mark beneath his clothes.

The possessiveness she felt surprised her. The urge to stake her own claim on him and warn away any other woman or even man.

Fae often boasted that they’d bred the mating urge from their lineage, but Dominique wondered if it was less about breeding and more about alliances and advantageous matches had become more important than finding one’s true mate.

Ronan lifted his mouth from hers, leaving her lips throbbing. “Unless you want me to tear it in half, take off your dress.”

For a split second, Dominique was tempted to tell him to do exactly that, but she loved her gown. And maybe someday, if they had a daughter, she would want to wear it.

She stepped back from him, her hands lifting to the buckle of the belt around her hips. The ceremonial sword was heavier than it looked, the jewels and precious metals adding weight. Still, she was careful as she removed it and set it on the side table next to the sofa.

Then, her hands went behind her to the small button at the base of her spine. Lydon was not only a talented dressmaker, but he was also an attentive listener. When she mentioned that she would like to be able to put on and remove her dress alone, he’d created a spelled button, hidden by a glamour, and sewn it at the base of her spine. She could feel it with her finger, but no one else could see it.

When she brushed her fingertip over it and added a pulse of magic, the material that ran from between her shoulder blades to the base of her spine split apart, fastened together only by magic.

Her hands shook slightly as she shrugged her arms and shoulders free of the overdress. Ronan’s eyes burned like blue flames as he watched her step out of the thin, iridescent garment.

His hands fisted when she moved to lay it across the arm of the sofa, but he didn’t say anything. He continued to watch her, his muscles tensing beneath his tunic, as she reached up and shoved the delicate straps of the silk gown she’d worn beneath the overdress over her shoulders. The weight of the silk dragged it down her body, pooling on the floor at her feet.

When she bent to lift it, Ronan growled, “Leave it.”

Dominique’s legs went weak at the sound of his voice. The low timbre rolled through her, bringing her body to attention. She stepped out of the material, wearing nothing but the tiny thong and strapless bra he’d objected to yesterday.

When he stalked toward her, Dominique lifted her hands, prepared to reach out to him, but he stopped just out of reach. She watched in surprise as he knelt before her, his face a mask of both anger and pain.

“What is it?” she asked, stepping closer and resting her hands on his shoulders.

Ronan looked up at her, the tension she felt in his muscles simmering there in his eyes as well.

“I don’t deserve to touch you,” he answered, his voice guttural. “I don’t deserve to have you at all.”

Dominique moved her hands to his cheeks. “Why?”

His palms covered hers, keeping her fingers pressed against his flesh. “I forced you into this situation and this marriage. I hurt you, you—my soulmate . You should be angry with me, unforgiving, but instead you’re here. You’re too good, too kind, to be shackled to me, but I’m too much of a selfish bastard to let you go.”

She sighed. “Maybe you don’t deserve me, maybe I should still be angry, but there’s something you’re forgetting.”

At her words, his stomach clenched. “What’s that?”

Dominique leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead before she answered, “I get to decide how I feel and what I want. And I’ve decided that I want you as long as you never treat me like that again. Do you think you can uphold your end of the bargain?”

“I can,” he vowed.

His arms wrapped around her hips, drawing her body closer. He pressed his cheek against her stomach, holding her tightly.

“Are we done with this?” Dominique asked.

“Yes and no.”

She sighed, her hand sifting through his hair. “What does that mean?”

He moved his head, resting his chin against her belly so he could look up at her. “I will always be grateful that you’ve given me your grace and forgiveness. But I will never forget that I let my pride, and my anger hurt you, because I never want to do it again.”

“Then, don’t.” Using her hold on his face, she urged him to his feet. “Now, I need my husband tonight.”

His arms tightened around her when she called him her husband.

“You promised to mark me and I’m holding you to it.”

Ronan ran his hands up her back and tangled his fingers in her hair. With a firm tug, he tilted her head back. “You really want to wear my mark?”

“Yes.” The answer was a throaty whisper. “Do you want to wear mine?”

“Yes. I’ll wear more than one if you give them to me.”

Dominique swallowed hard as stared into his eyes. She wondered if he knew his shadow magic had woven through her hair, cupping her skull and supporting her head.

Ronan’s eyes stayed locked on hers as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

When he withdrew, her hands lowered to the hem of his tunic. “Off,” she said.

His burning blue gaze never left hers as he reached down and unbuckled his own sword belt. Unlike Dominique’s, his wasn’t ceremonial. It was the scarred weapon of a warrior, passed down from generation to generation in his family. It always went to the next in line to rule, which meant that he would be giving it to Aisling when she ascended to the throne.

He set the sword on the coffee table before stripping the tunic over his head. The thin muslin shirt he wore beneath followed a moment later. Ronan paused when he saw the way Dominique’s eyes moved over his bare torso, taking him in.

He stepped closer, taking her hand and lifting it to his chest. “Picking out another place to mark me?”

Her light blue-green eyes flicked up to his. “Yes and no.”

“Why no ?” he asked.

“I already know where I want to mark you, but this is the first time I feel like I can touch you how I’d like to. I’m trying to decide where to start.”

His jaw flexed as he stared down at her. Without a word, he walked over to the bed, shucking his boots and pants as he went.

Naked, he sat on the end of the bed, leaning back on his elbows. His muscles shifted beneath his skin as he settled back, finding a comfortable position. Dominique took him in, letting her eyes wander over his body, from his face, down his torso, to his hard, jutting cock.

“Touch me wherever you want, wife,” he said.

His eyes never left hers as she crossed the room, reaching behind her to unhook the strapless bra she wore. She dropped the undergarment on top of his trousers. When she stopped in front of him, she shoved the narrow strips of nude fabric off her hips, letting her thong fall to the floor at her feet.

Ronan’s hands clenched into fists as he stared at her naked body, so close, yet out of his reach. She studied him, taking in the tension of his body, as though he was holding himself back from grabbing her.

His pulse throbbed in his neck when her hands reached out to cup his face, her thumbs drawing a delicate line across his cheekbones. Moving slowly, she ran her palms down his throat, her fingers curled so that her nails lightly scratched the back of his neck.

She felt the shiver that ran through him and couldn’t control her quiet gasp. She felt powerful, knowing that she could make him feel this way. Her gaze flicked to his, but he sat still like he was waiting for her to decide what to do next.

After a moment, her palms continued on their journey over his shoulders and then down his chest. Again, she used her nails on him, raking his skin lightly, with just enough pressure to leave faint pink marks behind. As her hands slipped over his abdomen, Dominique lowered her body until she was kneeling between his spread thighs.

He gasped when her fingers spread wide, and her nails trailed over his hipbones and down to his thighs. He let her push his legs further apart, making more space for her body between them, his hot gaze roving over her face and body.

She was no longer staring into his eyes, her gaze locked on to his hard cock. As she looked at it, her tongue came out to wet her lips and he couldn’t stop the way his dick twitched.

When her hand came up, curling around the base of his shaft, Ronan grabbed at the duvet beneath him, fisting the material tightly, seemingly in an effort to stop himself from touching her.

Moving slowly, Dominique leaned over, opening her mouth, and trailing the tip of her tongue over his length. Ronan hissed at the sensation, pressing his ass into the mattress. Dominique could feel the echo of his pleasure through the burgeoning bond between them.

Her eyes flicked up to his, holding his stare as she opened her mouth and closed it over the head of his cock. Sucking lightly, she moved her fist up and down his length, her grip tightening with each stroke. She loved the way his body trembled as she took him deeper into her mouth, increasing the pressure and suction with each stroke.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the muscles in his thighs growing rigid.

Sensing he was on the edge, she used the tip of her tongue to flick the head of his cock one last time before she lifted her mouth off his cock. Staring up at him, she ran her hands up and down the insides of his thighs, noting the small bead of sweat that trailed down the side of his face. His hands were curled so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Every muscle in his body seemed to stand out as he held himself utterly still.

“Everything all right, husband?” she asked.

He must have heard the tinge of humor in her question because his eyes snapped open and he stared back at her, his chest heaving as he panted.

His brilliant blue eyes were hot and more than a little wild. “Are you teasing me, wife?” he asked.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “If I am?”

He remained perfectly still for a split second before he lunged forward, his hands closing around her hips.

Dominique yelped as he stood, lifting her from the floor as though she weighed nothing. He moved quickly, turning to toss her onto the mattress.

She shrieked as she fell the short distance and landed on the soft surface with a bounce. “Ronan!”

Before she could push her body upright, he crawled over her, his shadow magic spiraling from his shoulders and arms. When she lifted her hands to touch his chest, the tendrils of darkness looped around her wrists, pinning her hands to the bed above her head.

“Turnabout is fair play,” he growled as his magic curved around her inner thighs and pulled them up and apart, leaving her open and completely at his mercy.

Dominique swallowed hard as he hovered over her, his eyes taking in her bound body. “I thought I could touch you wherever I wanted?”

“Next time.”

His lips sealed over hers just as bits of his magic wrapped around her breasts and tugged at both over her nipples. The shadows were usually the same temperature as her skin, but this time, they were cold, like ice.

Dominique gasped and he plunged his tongue into her mouth as he lowered his hips and slid the length of his cock through the wetness that gathered between her legs.

Her back arched but thin ropes of shadows crisscrossed her torso, holding her body down to the mattress.

She could do nothing but lie beneath Ronan and experience the pleasure he seemed intent on giving her.