Page 50

Everly

I wasn’t sure who moved first.

One minute, we were frozen like the corpses on the battlefield that haunted us both, and the next, I was anchored in front of him.

He drank me in slowly, caressing my skin with his aurora-lit gaze. His breath ghosted across my lips as my towel slipped to the floor.

A sharp intake of breath sounded, and the obsidian in his eyes nearly consumed the green.

I swallowed, my gaze drifting from his long, dark lashes, down to the sharp line of his jaw, to his full, perfect lips. Lips I had been dying to taste again, lips that were both promise and punishment.

My bare skin was only a heartbeat away from his, and the space between us still felt like miles. Slowly, Draven brought one calloused hand to my waist, hovering just above my hip before his fingers skated along my skin.

Torment , he had said after his nightmare. That was exactly what this felt like.

He brought his other hand to my jaw, his thumb sliding over my bottom lip.

These were hands that had killed without mercy, that had traced my scars with vengeance and washed my hair with tenderness. Hands I wanted to worship and remember.

I leaned into his touch like a dying plant leans into the sun, like it was my last fragile hope of survival instead of the thing that would be my undoing.

One of his thumbs traced a path of fire from the bottom of my rib cage down to the bone of my hip as he gripped my chin firmly with the other. My breath caught in my lungs as he finally closed the distance between us.

Since the fight, his power had been restrained, either exhausted or chained into submission at his side. But now, it erupted, a wave of mana that started where his lips touched mine, crashing over us both and rippling the air around us.

He tasted the way he smelled, an intoxicating mix of crushed juniper and freshly fallen snow and raw, relentless power.

He brushed his tongue against the seam of my lips, and I parted them to allow him entry.

A growl rumbled up from his throat, the sound reverberating through my core, and I melted into him.

A shiver raced up my spine, flames licking at my skin at each point of contact.

He was endlessly warm in a world that only ever seemed to be cold. I wrapped my arms around his neck, running them through the pale, tousled strands of his hair. Draven made another throaty sound that reverberated through me. He pulled me even closer, but it wasn’t enough.

Sliding my fingers from his hair, I ran them over his shoulders down to trace the ridges of his muscled chest, then lower still.

He growled again, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth.

Then, he slowly backed me toward the wall, reaching behind me to sweep the combs and soap off the vanity, and lifting me there in its place.

The cold stone contrasted with his blazing skin, and I let out another gasp that had his hands clenching around my hips.

He deepened our kiss, his tongue chasing with mine as if this was a dance we were already familiar with. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, arching against him to close the space between us even more.

Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I knew why this was a terrible idea, wrong on every discernible level, and paving an inevitable path of destruction for us both.

But his lips slid to my neck, hot breath skating over my skin in a blend of delicious heat and friction, and I shoved those doubts into a chasm in the back of my mind where they could burn for all I cared.

His hand grazed the swell of my breast, and a curse slipped between my lips. He did it again, firmer this time, and I threw back my head to give him more access, running my hands along the perfect lines of his shoulders.

He nipped at my skin, his free hand skimming along my thigh, slowly, languidly. A question from a male who only ever issued demands.

There was only one answer my body would give.

I parted my thighs, and he chased away the distance, his fingers teasing closer and closer until I felt like I was going to combust from the anticipation.

The mana ignited between us like it was issuing a plea of its own, flaring with an intensity that bordered on pain. The kind of pain steeped in pleasure.

Draven brushed a knuckle along my center, his other hand toying artfully with my breast.

Something swelled up within me, dark and dangerous and demanding, begging to break free. The mana hummed between us, pulled taut to the point of breaking along with my self-control.

No.

His thumb was next, carefully exploring, caressing, until stars lined my vision. I dug my hands into his shoulders to brace myself. The sharp edges of my nails carved into him, leaving the barest trail of blood along his skin, and the sound he made nearly undid me, entirely.

Shards.

No. No. No.

What was I doing?

I knew better than to pretend like this was real when it never could be. He was the Frostgrave King, and I was the bastard born bride sent to punish him—to punish us both.

Maybe we both deserved it, but I wouldn’t push us over that precarious edge. Especially not when the entire kingdom would pay.

“No.” I said the word aloud this time, hating myself for it.

Draven froze, his face still buried in my neck, his hands on my skin. For several stilted heartbeats, the only sound was our harsh breathing, unnaturally loud in the silent estate.

“You want me to stop?” his voice was low and rough, and my body arched in response.

No. Never stop.

“Yes.” I forced out the word.

His ring vibrated against my skin, and another sigh escaped my lips, equal parts desire and frustration.

Shards damn it all .

He pulled back far enough to study my features. His eyebrows were raised, his perfect mouth twisted somewhere between arrogance and need.

Need .

“I need you to stop.” The words came out a whisper, but this time, they were true.

No, I didn’t want him to stop, but I did need him to. His gaze darted to his ring, but I knew that it stayed resolutely still.

He backed away further, lifting his eyes back to mine.

“Why?” His chest rose and fell in time with his rapid breaths, but his tone was deceptively even.

For the first time since he knelt near the tub, I was painfully aware of my nudity. My cheeks burned, and I slid off the counter, reaching for a fresh towel to wrap around myself.

Conveniently, that also helped me avoid his probing stare.

“Everly.” His voice was low, almost a rasp.

My eyes fluttered closed.

Had he ever said my name before? Only when he pulled me from my nightmares. It had been laced with the same authority then, uttered in the same throaty growl.

I tried to pin down my whirling thoughts. I wanted to tell him this wasn’t who we were to one another, but it didn’t feel true anymore. My heart raced, my muscles still throbbing.

It didn’t help that I could still taste him on my lips and feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.

Finally, I turned back to face him.

“Because we’ve both been hurt enough.”

His features darkened, then closed off entirely. Even his mana seemed to siphon back into himself, retreating further from me than it ever had before.

I swallowed back the emotion threatening to devour me and grabbed my dagger and the small stack of nightclothes Wynnie had sent over for me. Then I fled the room before he could see how much it cost me to walk away.

I needed space, and to see my sister, and to remember who I was.

Who I’ve always been.