Page 23 of Gods and Graves

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THEA

“ H ey. You asleep?” Krystian leans against the doorframe of the bedroom they allowed me to borrow.

I toss him a droll look over my shoulder. “Yes, because I sleep standing up all the time.”

Krystian snickers. “Hey, in my defense, you’re a weird little creature. Who knows with you?”

I flip him off and turn back to the clothes laid out on my bed. Everett must’ve also grabbed me pajamas, though I don’t know if I want to wear the teal silk set or the nightgown.

Krystian steps forward to see what I’m looking at. “Oh. Go with the teal. It’ll look great on you.”

Smirking, I grab the nightgown instead and move towards the connecting bathroom.

Krystian follows me, seemingly unperturbed when I slam the door in his face.

“So…it’s going to be night soon,” Krystian begins, his voice slightly muffled due to the door.

“I’m not afraid of your dark side, Krystian,” I tell him as I throw off my clothes and slip on the nightdress.

The fabric is cool against my overheated flesh, billowing around my thighs. I’m fortunate it hides my dagger tattoo from view.

“You may not be, but I am,” Krystian confesses after a long moment of silence.

I freeze at that, considering, then pull open the door, one eyebrow arched.

He’s gripping the doorframe, his head lowered, strands of silky white-blond hair obscuring his features from view. Tension lines his shoulders and neck.

“Why?” I ask softly, wanting him to look at me.

Needing him to.

He doesn’t.

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, love.” Krystian heaves out a tired breath, that one noise laced with years of wariness and unencumbered pain.

“Krys is you, isn’t he? Your dark desires and urges?” I finally lower my head in order to meet his eyes. “Do you not trust yourself?”

Those blue orbs blink repeatedly. He seems unsure of how to respond.

“It’s not that.” He lifts his head and shakily runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the strands. “It’s just…I don’t know what I do at night. Sometimes, I’ll wake up covered in blood with no memory of how I got there. Or in the bed of a woman with no knowledge?—”

He cuts himself off quickly at my sharp look.

The last thing I want to hear about is him—or Krys, for that matter—in the bed of another woman.

“Krys seems to believe that your distrust of him is what causes the disconnect between you two. It’s why you don’t remember what happens during the night, and vice versa.” Though I’m beginning to believe that Krys isn’t as oblivious as Krystian believes him to be.

“Do you know who also has no inhibitions?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, forging ahead with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Psychopaths.”

“You think Krys is the psychopathic version of yourself?”

“I know he is.” He licks his upper lip. “I don’t want to hurt you, Thea. I would never forgive myself if I did something to you.”

A choked, strangled sound escapes him, as if the mere prospect is too awful to even comprehend.

“I don’t believe you will,” I tell him sincerely.

“ I would never,” Krystian agrees. “But Krys?—”

“Is you.”

“Is a psychopath,” he counters.

Frustration builds in my chest.

“You don’t believe that.” I shake my head adamantly and take a single step closer to him.

“I don’t?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t be here, when you know you’re about to transform.” I allow my gaze to roam over his perfectly sculpted face, every inch chiseled by the gods themselves.

“I still have time,” he whispers, his breath stuttering.

“How much time?” I hesitantly reach for him, cupping the back of his neck.

My fingers tangle in his shiny blond hair.

“Thea…” My name on his lips is a plea, a warning, and a benediction all at once.

Lust streaks through me, and a pulse of need erupts in my center.

“Kiss me, Krystian,” I plead.

He swallows. “Thea, please.”

“Kiss me.”

Because if I fade away right here and now, I want to know what his lips feel like against my own.

Krystian shudders in my embrace, and I can feel the last of his resistance snapping. Shattering. Deteriorating like tissue paper in water.

Krystian doesn’t just kiss me. He devours me. Each press of his mouth against my own makes me think he’s trying to suck out my soul. And as he kisses me, something dark and incurable cements itself deep inside my bones.

This man… He’s mine.

All sides of him—the good and the bad, the part he loves and the part he fears.

It’s only been two days, yet I feel like it’s been an eternity. My soul knows him, calls for him, and each swipe of his tongue against my own tells me he feels it as well.

I melt against him, groaning hoarsely, tingles racing up and down my spine.

Do all kisses feel like this? Or just his?

Krystian pulls away, breathing heavily. “Fuck, love. Fuck.”

“Don’t stop,” I beg, planting kisses across his neck until I reach his jaw.

I have to push myself up onto my tiptoes now that he’s no longer leaning.

“If I don’t stop, then we’ll do a lot more than just kissing.” He tries to chuckle, but the noise is raspy with barely suppressed need.

“And that’s a bad thing?” I flick my tongue out and trace his lips—his full upper, followed by his thinner lower, and then finally the seam.

He groans and opens his mouth, kissing me like he wants to punish me for teasing him.

His hands move to the straps of my nightgown, and another strangled moan escapes him.

“Fuck, you look so goddamn sexy in this. I’m fucking losing my mind.”

“I thought you preferred the teal set?” I ask, sucking on a spot on his neck.

He seems to like it, if his gyrating hips are any indication.

“I lied.”

He grabs the straps of my nightgown, forcing them down my arms.

“Holy fuck.” His eyes widen as he stares at my naked body, now dressed in only a pair of panties—this pair black.

Then he’s kissing me again, his hands roaming my body, tracing every dip and curve. His fingers brush over my puckered nipple, and a shiver of delight rolls through me.

“You’re so sexy, love. So fucking sexy. You put every goddess to shame.” He begins to kiss down my throat, my shoulders, my breasts, stopping when he reaches my neglected nipple.

He pulls it into his mouth, his tongue flicking out to play with it.

I gasp and grab at his hair, holding him still.

He releases my breast and steps away, his chest heaving and his face flushed.

“I can’t… I can’t stop. Fuck. Tell me to stop, Thea. Tell me to go away.”

“I want you to fuck me, Krystian,” I tell him, pulling down my panties and kicking them aside.

He swears raggedly, his gaze glued to my revealed pussy. “Love…”

“Please, Krystian.” I squeeze my tits, pinching my nipples.

His gaze drops to them automatically, and his breathing grows choppy.

With an almost blistering speed, he throws his shirt aside, then he kicks off his pants and boxer briefs.

Leaving him gloriously, deliciously naked.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I could stare at him all day and never tire of it. He’s not as muscular as Everett, but his body is lean and defined, his waist tapered. His cock brushes against his stomach—long but not necessarily thick.

I don’t know if I reach for him or he reaches for me. All I know is that we lunge for each other, the momentum sending us flying back onto the bed. I land on top of him, our lips fused together, our bodies flush.

I pull away to reach for his cock, loving the feel of it in my hand. I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this—velvety softness combined with steel.

“Fuck, yes. Baby, just like that. Fuck.”

I line the head of his cock up with my slit, already dripping for him. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but this feels good, so I continue doing it. Each drag of his erect cock against my pussy causes goose bumps to pebble on my arms.

I gasp, my eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck.”

Krystian swears—the noise rough and strangled—and then flips us so I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me. His blue eyes ensnare my own, making it impossible for me to look away.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks, his swollen cock sliding through my slick entrance.

“What are we doing to each other?” I counter, tears prickling my eyes.

Because this isn’t just a one-way street.

I have feelings for him—strong, inexplicable feelings that scare me.

He lines himself up and thrusts inside of me. I throw my head back and cry out, the feeling of being stretched indescribable.

“You feel fucking amazing around my cock, love. Fuck.” He pulls out and then slams back into me, his hips hitting my own.

There’s no hesitation. No easing me into this. It’s like his body knows exactly what I need, and he’s willing to give it.

I wrap my legs around his hips and arch my back, taking him even deeper.

“Your pussy is so tight, love. So goddamn tight. I don’t know how long I can last,” he pants, his hips thrusting steadily.

Lifting my head, I trap his lips in another heated kiss, nipping and sucking on his lower lip.

“You feel like you were made for me, like your pussy was made for my cock,” he rasps, pumping harder into me.

And it occurs to me then that I should’ve felt pain at his rough intrusion. There should’ve been blood.

But it’s as he said—it feels as if my body was made for him.

“Fuck me hard, Krystian. Give me everything.” I drag my fingernails down his back.

“It’s already yours.”

Those possessive, heated words send a shockwave straight to my core, which tightens around his cock instinctively. Krystian’s hips stutter, inarticulate curses and praises leaving his lips, and I grip him tighter.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I scream as my pussy pulsates around his length.

With a hoarse cry, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips jerking erratically before stilling. He collapses half on top of me, his head buried in the crook of my shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, his lips brushing against my skin with each exhale.

I run my hand across his back, holding him to me.

I can’t seem to catch my breath. To think. To do anything but touch him and stare mindlessly at the ceiling.

“Is it… Is it always like that?” I whisper.

“Not for me,” he responds simply, and then he stills, his nose still pressed against my skin. “Thea?”

“Yes?” I ask.

“Did you always have that tattoo on your thigh?”

I open my mouth, close it, and then open it again. But before I can respond, Krystian shakes, his hands curling around me in a way that’s almost painful. I freeze and slowly lower my head.

Pitch-black eyes peer back at me.

Krys grins—the smile hungry and possessive, making goose bumps blaze across my body.

His hard cock brushes against my side as he rolls overtop of me.

“Hello, my love.” Blond hair, streaked with black and blue, falls across his face. “How do you feel about round two?”