Page 19 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

The word was a whisper from a dry throat, but it echoed in my ears as though I had shouted it.

Valen said nothing, but the smile that curved over his lips almost made me gasp as he pushed my skirts higher and pressed his mouth against my thigh, moving higher with slow, burning kisses as he dragged his tongue along my flesh.

His fingers kneaded my skin, massaging my thighs even as he pushed my legs apart to allow him to get closer.

Valen’s touch sparked trails of fire that ran up and down my thighs, and my frantic heartbeat echoed in my ears. His mouth, a soothing contradiction to the rough graze of his stubble, moved upwards until he reached the apex of my thighs. I watched him through heavy-lidded eyes as he looked up at me through dark lashes as he pulled my panties aside and traced his finger lightly along my tender flesh.

“Forget,” he murmured.

The grief, sadness and guilt were all pushed back into the recesses of my mind as Valen’s mouth settled onto me. A gasp tore through me as his tongue traced a path that made my hips arch off the leather seat. My fingers weaved through his unruly hair and held him closer.

“Valen,” I found myself whispering his name, a plea that held a mobile of emotions; relief from pain, a request for more. He hummed against me in response, a vibration that made me gasp for air as I struggled to keep still.

One of his hands gripped my thigh tighter, and I felt the pulse of his power in his fingertips. His lips, teeth and tongue worked in tandem to traverse the landscape of my desire before venturing into the heart of it.

His care for what I needed was evident in every move he made. I didn’t know anything about Valen Romano aside from the darkness he embodied—the darkness of his family and his father—yet here he was behaving as if my pleasure was his ultimate fulfillment.

His thumb teased against my entrance as he lashed my clit with his tongue.

The sensation left me shuddering, and I gripped him harder. “Valen…” I moaned again and my voice quaked as the pleasure mounted.

His eyes flickered up and met mine. They were dark, intense, and full of something that looked like hunger. “Let me take care of you,” he murmured against me. His words caused another wave of desire to wash over me, and my head fell back against the soft leather seat.

Then his fingers thrust into me, deft and sure in their motions. I gasped at the intrusion, but the pain and pleasure mingled into an intoxicating blend in an instant as he plunged them deep inside me.

I watched him through half-lidded eyes—watched him take pleasure in my pleasure.

The sight of him between my legs was surreal—sinful—and so unbearably intimate that it stole my breath away .

“You taste so—” He let out a groan that shuddered through me. “Gods, I could drown in it,” he said as he buried his face in my slick folds.

“Valen… I—” I began, only to be silenced by a swift flick of his tongue.

“Shhh,” he commanded, “just feel.”

Every thrust of his fingers and swipe of his tongue pushed my worries further into oblivion and filled my mind with only the exotic rhythm he danced on my flesh. There was no room for guilt or regret in this feverish mess of emotion that Valen had somehow untangled inside me.

I couldn’t think about the funeral anymore. I couldn’t think about the world beyond this limousine.

My breaths came faster, panting and ragged, as he fucked me with his tongue and fingers.

Forget.

Give in.

Forget.

Keep going.

These words echoed in rhythm with his ceaseless movements.

I was breathing strangely, and each beat of my heart was a strange jolt that matched the thrum of desire coursing through my veins.

Valen never stopped. His eyes held mine captive as he watched me drown in my pleasure. His fingers curled inside me with practiced ease, hitting spots I never knew existed.

With each thrust, a wave of warmth crashed over me, and with each retreat, the cool aftershocks resonated through me. His tongue stroked against me in a wicked path that made my breath hitch and my body trembled on the brink of release.

“I—” I started again, but was cut short by an unexpected gasp. Valen pulled back suddenly and looked up at me—his fingers still working inside me—the index brushing a spot that made my hips jolt.

“That,” he whispered, pressing there again. White-hot pleasure seared through me at his touch, and I couldn’t help but arch into him. “Let go.”

And just like that, I did. As Valen’s mouth descended one last time, settling onto my swollen flesh with a sort of reverence, I shattered beneath him.

A strangled cry ripped from my throat as pleasure exploded within me and the heat consumed everything in its path—

The world fell away, and I fell with it—a marionette with its strings abruptly severed.

Valen didn’t pull away. He rode my climax with me, his fingers and tongue coaxed me deftly through the aftershocks of my pleasure.

His own rumbling moans were muffled against my skin and his hot breath stoked the inferno of sensations until I lay there in ruinous pleasure; tired, content, and helplessly flushed. It was intoxicating, overwhelming to the point where I felt lightheaded.

My body trembled from the exertion and I was dangerously close to tears—not from pain or sorrow, but a strange sort of cathartic release that came from being seen, acknowledged, and desired.

Valen gingerly withdrew his fingers from my slick heat, and I let out a soft whimper at the sudden loss of fullness. His eyes were hooded as he rose up between my thighs. We were both flushed and panting in the aftermath, and Valen’s eyes glinted as he pushed his fingers into his mouth and sucked my release from them.

All I could do was stare numbly at him, trapped in the purgatory between fulfillment and despair. I was mesmerized by the sensations that tumbled through me, and the strangeness of not knowing what to do next …

The air in the limousine had thickened—filled with sweet arousal and burnt regret. Our shared fragility filled every crevice of silence as Valen meticulously rearranged my gowns and pulled the delicate fabric back down my legs. The act was so strangely tender that it was almost more intimate than everything we had just done.

He sat back on the seat across from me, and I clenched my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching for him.

“You must have been popular at the academy,” he said as he reached for a bottle of whiskey that sat in the limousine’s mini bar.

He poured two glasses and held one out to me. I shook my head.

Valen shrugged and poured the contents of the second glass into his.

“What do you mean… popular?”

He chuckled at my question. “You know what I mean.”

“No— I don’t.”

He lifted the glass to his lips and regarded me carefully. “You’re serious?” He took a long draught of the amber liquid, draining most of it.

My eyebrow rose. “I don’t know what you’re… I don’t—”

His smile was smooth and reassuring. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. He leaned forward to lay a hand on my thigh and I couldn’t help my smile. “You’re perfect,” he said. “You really are.”

The muted grey sunlight filtered through the limousine’s tinted windows and cast a dim glow over his face. I could feel the car slowing down as we approached the funeral venue, and my chest tightened.

“You’ll be fine,” Valen said. “I promise.”

But I didn’t feel fine .

I felt exposed and my body still throbbed with the aftermath of our… encounter.

Valen seemed perfectly composed, but as I smoothed out my dress and tried to tame my tousled hair, my mind raced with worry and shame. What if Titus, Bastian, or any of the other brothers discovered what had happened? How could I face them, knowing that I had given in to temptation at the worst possible moment?

“Are you all right?” Valen asked.

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t tell him—I couldn’t tell him I’d never done anything like that before.

Sure, I’d figured out how to get myself off—spending most of my time in the all-girls wing of Messana Academy hadn’t left me totally innocent of what went on between men and women. I just—hadn’t done it before. Not really.

I sat up a little straighter in my seat and smoothed a shaking hand over my hair.

If he could pretend nothing had happened—so could I.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied as coolly as possible and forced a small smile onto my face. “Just... nervous about the funeral.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” he said. “You look gorgeous—it’s all anyone will be talking about.”

At— at my mother’s funeral?

I tried not to show how his words had affected me, but it was hard to keep my expression neutral when all I wanted to do was scream.

Tears pricked my eyelashes, but I blinked them away.

I averted my gaze to the window.

Valen reached for my face gently, and his thumb brushed against my cheek. A moment ago I would have leaned into his touch, but now it spurred a shiver inside me.

“I didn’t mean to upset you…” he started to say, but the limousine rolled to a stop, cutting him off .

The driver came around and opened the door. He offered me a gloved hand, and I hesitated for a fraction of a second before I took it and stepped out into the muted sunlight with as much grace as I could muster.

Valen climbed out after me, his dark eyes scanning the crowd that had already gathered outside the Messana’s Juniper Gardens Cemetery.

I’d never been to a funeral.

My mother had never taken me to my father’s grave.

I didn’t even know where he was buried.

You never asked.

I turned sharply as my mother’s voice echoed sharply in my ear.

“What?” I choked out.

Valen’s eyebrow rose. “What?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

Valen smiled and laid a hand against the small of my back. “Come on, sister, they’re waiting for you. Don’t worry. I won’t leave your side.”

His reassurance should have comforted me, but instead, it only seemed to amplify my shame.

Had I allowed him to exploit my vulnerability?

“Come along,” he said briskly, his tone devoid of any warmth or affection. “We mustn’t keep them waiting.”

I clenched my fists in silent fury as I allowed him to lead me into the funeral parlor, and I couldn’t chase away the feeling that I had been used.

The scent of incense and the muted sound of conversation hung heavy in the air as I entered the dimly lit funeral parlor’s main room.

My chest tightened as my gaze fell upon the casket at the end of the room. It was draped in a dark cloth that had been embroidered with an intricate pattern of winding silver vines covered in thorns.

The reality of my mother’s death had never felt more oppressive than it did in that moment.

“Avril,” Valen murmured as he guided me towards our seats. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Is it?” I retorted. I didn’t try to hide the bitterness in my tone. I thought I would drown in it. “How can you say that?”

“Because we’re still here,” he replied softly, giving me a sidelong glance.

How did that matter?

I didn’t know how to respond, and as we took our seats amongst the sea of black-clad mourners, I forced myself to take a deep breath.

I expected Valen to sit down next to me, but he turned away almost immediately and strode casually toward the bar, which was already crowded with patrons.

My eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone familiar in the somber faces of those who had come to pay their respects.

But I found myself searching for something else, too: Titus and Bastian.

If my stepbrothers knew what had transpired between Valen and me, they would surely use it against me—he had promised not to say anything.

Wait.

Had he?

I swallowed hard.

I hadn’t made him promise to keep our tryst a secret.

I hadn’t—

Panic and shame throbbed in my veins as I looked for them.

As if summoned by my thoughts, I spotted Valen across the room. He held a bottle of beer in his hand, and there was a smile on his face as he spoke with Titus and Bastian. They didn’t look in my direction, but something about seeing them all together sent a shiver of dread down my spine.

Despite Valen’s smile, the three brothers seemed locked in an intense exchange. Titus’ expression betrayed nothing of what they might have been discussing. My paranoia only intensified as I watched them, but I couldn’t do anything to stop them—what would I say if I interrupted them?

The last time I had been alone with them—

Stop it. Don’t think about it.

But I had spent far too much time thinking about it.

My panties were already wet from what had happened in the limousine—and I didn’t want to think about that either.

Not now.

A woman I didn’t recognize slid into the seat beside me.

“Avril,” she breathed. “You look simply divine—how are you?”

I was utterly taken aback by her strange greeting and didn’t know what to say in response. “Oh— Thank you—”

“You’re so welcome, my dear,” the woman cooed back. Her heavily lined eyes twinkled in a way that suggested she knew things she wasn’t sharing. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” The corners of her red lips moved upward, but her smile bordered on predatory as she seemed to examine me with calculating eyes.

“Thank you” was all I managed to say to the stranger. I didn’t know how to act here, and I definitely didn’t know how to grieve while everyone watched—their eyes were filled with curiosity more than sympathy. But maybe it was something else.

It didn’t feel real, and my mind had already been sewn with distractions before I even walked into the funeral parlor.

“I can’t even imagine…” she trailed off, but her gaze never left me. She seemed fascinated by my discomfort.

“I—” The words twisted in my throat as I tried and failed to suppress my growing unease. I stumbled over apologies, but they sounded as empty as the condolences people were giving me.

My throat was tight, and all I wanted was to go back to Withermarsh.

I almost laughed at the thought.

Why did I want to go back there?

There was nothing for me there.

There was nothing for me anywhere—

I was alone.

Utterly alone.

But I had no choice.

Where else was I supposed to go?

My mother was dead… and I belonged to the Romano’s now.