Page 32 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

Between Thorns and Velvet

Calliste

She must have burst out of her nightmare with a scream, right into the firm, warm embrace that confused her for a second before she caught the familiar scent of Theron’s skin.

“Shhh,” he whispered into her ear, holding her close and stroking her back. “Shhh. I’m here.”

She clung to him, her body cold and clammy from the memory of that night.

He waited with endless patience before he asked, “A nightmare?”

“Yes.” Her throat was parched.

“Do you want to tell me?”

She froze, snapping out of the lull and safety of his arms, instantly on guard.

“Was it about your husband?”

Few things could bring her to this state. She saw no point in lying. “Yes.”

“You know you can tell me,” he murmured into her ear, his hand still soothing her.

That I burned that bastard? That you sleep next to a woman who killed her husband? No, I can’t. Hypnos had already mentioned Theron’s investigation, twice. Her throat tightened as she wondered if Theron already knew the truth, or a part of it.

Perhaps he did, and he wasn’t bringing it up because they had enough on their hands already.

Yet she was under no illusions: if his patron goddess was Themis, he would feel compelled to mete out justice. It would be unlike him to ignore it, even if he was attracted to her. So why isn’t he asking me outright? Unless Hypnos lied to me. Which isn’t exactly impossible.

Those restless thoughts circled in her mind for a while, and she couldn’t find an answer—there was none in his steadfast silence, underscored by the tenderness of his hands smoothing down her back.

She wanted everything to stay that way: delayed, so she could bask in his presence without thinking about the consequences.

“Calliste,” he whispered in her ear, “let me in. I understand how difficult it is because it took a lot for me to show you my ugly side. I was fully prepared for your rejection.”

The intensity in his gaze stole her breath. “But I know you’re not a bad person, Theron. I could never despise you for anything.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Likewise.”

“No,” she said, wanting to move away, but his arm held her close. “You don’t know the truth about me.”

“I know you’re not a bad person,” he echoed in his deep voice. “I could never despise you for anything. Will you tell me?”

Whenever he’d asked her a variation of this question before, she’d always found a way to escape or withdraw.

But now, she couldn’t—at least not physically—because he held her in a firm embrace.

And she didn’t want to run anymore. He might already know everything; perhaps he was just giving her the chance to confess: in private, not in court.

Still, as she opened her mouth, her throat closed up, guilt and fear silencing her. She set her teeth together, trying to force herself to say something… I can’t. She glanced at the curtains; it was getting dark again. They had slept through the entire day. “Shouldn’t we get up?” she whispered.

“Soon,” he muttered after a pause, his voice tight, his fingertips ghosting over her scars, as if to remind her he was still waiting.

“Theron.” She took a deep breath, glancing up. “Let me keep my secrets a little longer. Please.”

His hand paused halfway down her back as he met her gaze. Little lights skipped in bronze, honeyed darkness. Beneath it all flickered distant wildfires. His grip loosened. “All right. I’ll wait.”

She softened in relief.

“That’s better,” he said in abstraction, still watching her. “Perhaps we should take it further.”

“Take… what further?”

“The way you just relaxed.”

She blinked at him again, trying to puzzle out what he meant.

He made it clear when he shifted his hand to the front of her robe, his fingertips skimming the edges, nudging them apart to reveal her breasts, but his eyes remained on her, watching her reaction.

Briefly, she thought about the ugly scar Eris had etched across her chest, but there was barely any light, and the hunger in his eyes snatched her thoughts in a completely different direction.

What surprised her was her body’s response to the mere brush of his fingertips: a jolting spasm that made her grind her thighs together.

She had never experienced anything like it. “Now? But—”

“I’m not going all the way yet,” he murmured, his voice thick with heat. “But I want to undo you. Allow me. I’ve imagined it far too many times to waste this opportunity.”

With that simple statement, he unraveled her. “Undo… me? How?”

“You’ll see.” His pupils dilated even more.

She couldn’t grasp his intent, but the way her body ignited in response to his words left her with the barest, simplest reply: “Yes.”

Slowly, almost casually, he pulled down the top of her robe, his hand sliding over her skin as his thumb traced the swell of her breast, the sensation so tantalizing that she leaned into the caress, already a little breathless.

His bronze eyes hooded as he lowered his gaze, and then his mouth, to her breast.

Awed gasps tore from her as his tongue circled a slow path, his teeth grazing her already firm, aching peak.

Her hand slid up the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair, tightening.

Each time his lips enveloped her nipple, she pressed her thighs together.

When he paused, his breath against the traces of his caresses stirred her even more.

“Don’t hold back, pretty nymph. Let me hear how you can’t help yourself,” he murmured.

The quickening spasms in her lower abdomen dazed her because her body had never reacted so intensely.

She’d known she was attracted to his looks, but this…

this transcended mere physical attraction.

His gestures and words were tender and caring, somehow complementing the wicked air about him, like that of a distant storm. She wasn’t afraid of it.

She was ready to ride it.

Discarding her last reservations, she rolled her hips against his. The sensation of his arousal behind the robes, rather than inside her, felt like a slow descent into madness.

His mouth quirked. “That’s sweet, but greedy. Not today.”

By then, her restraint was gone. Blindly, she fumbled with his robes to free his erection.

He caught her wrist. “Ah-ah. I said no.”

“But I want you inside me.” Her words slipped out, raw and stark, and it felt as though she bared all of herself with that admission.

“Do you, now?” His gaze could melt steel. “I could let you touch me, so you can feel exactly how much you’re asking for.”

“Yes.” She swallowed. Then, noticing the corner of his mouth curl, she added, “Please let me touch you.”

“I’ll have to supervise you,” he chuckled under his breath as he guided her hand over his pronounced length beneath his robe. “So you want all of me inside you?”

All she could manage was a helpless whimper at his sheer girth, his hardness jolting compared to Ariston’s fumbling, often frustrated and sometimes fruitless efforts. Theron’s aura of confidence was magnetic, and just imagining what it would be like to take him in… “Yes. All of you—please.”

“Why?” he teased with a maddening smirk.

“Because—” she strained to put together a coherent answer “—it would feel so, so good.”

“Of course it would feel good,” he whispered. “Likewise, it would feel heavenly inside you, Calliste. It’s great to know how desperate you are beneath that calm.”

“Please, Theron, I need it right now...”

“Not yet, my sweet nymph.” He gently moved her hands away, motioning for her to roll over so her back was against his chest. Finally, he pushed aside her robe and slid his hand down to the throbbing between her thighs, as if to soothe it.

Except… he made it worse. She bucked forward at the sensation of his fingertips, meandering slowly, leaving trails of longing.

“Tell me,” he said, embracing her with his other hand, rolling her nipple between his fingers. “Have you ever felt anything like this?”

“No,” she said straight away; an easy admission.

His hand between her thighs shifted as he dragged his middle finger along her center, finishing at the nub, making her vision shimmer for a breath. “Anything close?”

“N-no... Oh, Theron, do it again.”

“I will,” he hummed. Despite her reactions, he deliberately avoided the spot where she craved his touch, instead focusing on her breast. “When I feel like it.”

“But—”

“I know. You want more of this. ” His hot breath threaded through her hair, and she shuddered as his fingertips flicked that charged, aching spot.

“This is perfect, Calliste. I want you to understand the beauty of pleasure.” He fell silent for a while, his caresses steady and relentless, sentencing her to an eternity of waiting for his fingertips to massage the center of her pleasure, while her agony shot to the breaking point.

The way he alternated between caressing her breasts and then her nub, offering brief relief only to leave her to stew in agonizing expectation drove her past begging.

She placed her hand on his, trying to force him to touch her where she wanted, and he still wouldn’t let her.

“Undo me.” Her shame forgotten, she thrust her hips against his hand, arching, aching for it. “Please.”

“Hmmm,” he sounded amused, but his thick fingers quickened. “As you wish.”

Her breaths grew choppy as her heart raced, pleasure rising beneath her skin, threatening to tear her apart. “Don’t—stop, please don’t stop—”

“I won’t.” His voice struck a deeper, musical note, echoing like silver and steel, an irresistible command as his fingers moved faster, firmer. “Come for me.”

In a matter of breaths, her vision streaked with gold and opalescence, blinding her.

Weightless, she soared in shimmering bliss, choking on pleasure, thrusting her hips forward as her body arched, offering itself to the flood of euphoria. “Oh, Theron…”