Page 46 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

The Solace of Surrender

Calliste

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Theron set her down, keeping an arm around her waist to steady her—a wise move, given how flimsy her legs felt beneath her.

“Easy,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

If this was his intimate space, it reflected his character so well: restrained opulence came to her mind.

His bedroom was bathed in golden candlelight and faint moonlight pouring through the vast windows on the left, which were partially draped with long, thick swathes of silk curtains.

A purple carpet stretched from the entrance to a massive bed against the opposite wall, billowing with whipped white pillows—so many pillows—and flooded with a silver-threaded throw that trailed to the floor.

Two pairs of slender columns flanked each side of the bed, their capitals intricately carved with gilt acanthus leaves, forming an alcove behind the headboard, with a frieze of two winged goddesses holding up a silver moon.

Several golden candles burned on the ledge behind the headboard, illuminating the moon with their light.

She stared at it, fascinated, until she realized the moon was a huge, polished disc of silver framed in the wall.

Theron released her waist and returned to the door. She heard the sound of a lock turning.

When she glanced over her shoulder, he was setting the key on the small table beside the door. He then stepped toward her, the heat of his presence burning behind her until his breath tickled the back of her neck. “Like it here?”

She noticed an armchair in the corner with a shelf full of scrolls and manuscripts beside it. “I hope these aren’t treatises on the administrative matters of Hesperis.”

He chuckled. “Plays and poems. Administrative self-flagellation at bedtime is more Xanthos’ preference, not mine.”

This made her laugh and inhale deeply. The whole place was filled with the scent of sea breeze, cinnamon, and cardamom—his scent. As if I wasn’t dazed enough already.

His fingertips brushed across her back, parting her hair and ghosting over her scars. “May I?”

She went still. “Yes,” she replied, staring at the silver-threaded throw on his bed before looking up at the polished silver disc above the headboard. It seemed slightly concave, as she could see a faint, distorted reflection of herself. She waited.

He gently brushed her hair over her shoulder, letting it cascade across her chest.

His breath breezed across her back.

One soft kiss.

Then another. He left a soft trail of them along each scar. Her throat tightened at his gentleness, her breath growing uneven as he soothed her, acknowledging her wounds; healing her without knowing it.

The warmth of his last kiss vanished as he turned her back to face him, meeting her gaze with tenderness in his eyes, edged with the solemnity of an oath.

Distant sparkles lit up his amethyst—and her emerald shimmered in response. The faint glow of their gems mingled until it faded away.

Theron exhaled and pulled her into a kiss that was a slow and deep taste of fire. He slid his hand around her back, then lower, cupping one buttock and pressing her hips against his.

He was raging hard, his arousal trapped behind the fabric of his robe, and he wasted no time conquering her mouth.

She resisted, her tongue locked in a battle for independence, but lost focus when he made that fine, circling movement against her with his hips.

“Unfair,” she gasped, breaking away.

“It’s not going to get any fairer.” A firestorm swept through his eyes as he motioned her to sit on the edge of the bed. Holding her gaze, he lowered his hands to his belt, unbuckled it, and let it drop to the floor. His black tunic followed, leaving him standing bare a pace away from her.

She remembered the vivid image of his body from their time in the forest lake: the unyielding steel of his muscles shifting beneath his skin, each plane disciplined and honed to perfection, with nicks and scars that only made it more beautiful.

It was a physique any sculptor would want to immortalize in stone, and now, as he stood bare before her, and she saw all of him…

He tilted his head at her expression. “Thoughts?”

“You must know what women think of you.”

The corners of his eyes creased with a smile. “I have an idea. But I’d like to hear it from you.”

“I agree with the majority.” Her gaze flickered to his arousal, then back to his face.

“Why did you press your lips together?”

“Just so my jaw doesn’t drop.”

He chuckled. “I take it that’s satisfactory.”

“More than generous. I suppose you can’t help it.”

“No.” His eyes crinkled again. “Can you ?”

Her smile trembled, much like her hands.

The darkness she had been resisting resurfaced once more—and he must have sensed it, for he sank to his knees in front of her, bracing his hands against the edge of the bed on her either side, bringing his lips close enough for a kiss.

“Nymph.” His mouth moved against hers, his breath as sweet and fiery as his words.

“I want to see you undone, unraveling under my hands. I want you to surrender to me, knowing that I will treasure your body and make you come—” he planted a light kiss against her lips “—so—” another lingering brush of his mouth “—damn… hard .” The line of his massive shoulders was outlined with moonlight. “Will you trust me to do just that?”

The shivering heat that lanced through her was followed by an illuminating clarity: that her trust in him was absolute. She leaned her forehead against his, their breaths mingling. “Since our first kiss, I feared you would be my undoing. Now, that is exactly what I want you to be.”

Eyes flashing, he straightened up, his hands idling over her thighs, then moving to her knees and slowly parting them.

“T—Theron?”

“I want a taste of you.” His voice scraped out of his throat. “Lie back.”

She lowered herself onto her elbows, blushing at his grin as he spread her open and lowered his gaze to her center, his tongue flicking over his upper lip.

“Perfect. My pretty nymph, all ready for me,” he breathed. He leaned over and kissed the inside of her thigh. His next kiss was closer to her center. And the last one…

She jolted at the first ripple of pleasure rolling through her, sensing it was a game similar to the one he had played earlier—coaxing her and then refusing to push her too far into oblivion.

Gods, he loved that game and excelled at drawing out the delightful anticipation, skimming around the edges of pleasure and simply denying it to her while listening to her whimpers, teasing her until she surrendered, sitting up and grasping his shoulder. “Theron…”

He straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning. “Nymph?”

She shifted back to give him space on the bed until she felt the pillows behind her. “I’m ready.” Her body tingled and ached for him. “You might know a thousand ways to pleasure a woman, but I need you in one simple way, now .”

He climbed onto the bed slowly and lowered himself over her. “I’m striving to impress you so it doesn’t feel plain.”

She cradled him between her thighs. “There’s nothing plain about it,” she replied. “Not for me.”

He paused for a moment before lowering his mouth to hers.

His kisses always felt unique—sometimes fiery, sometimes soothing.

This one was scorching, as if the sun god himself had taken over to fill her with heat.

“I’ll go slow, and I can stop if you need me to.

” His heavy length rested between them, steely in the most sensual way.

In a smooth motion, he guided himself to her entrance.

Somewhere in the recess of her mind, the memories of nights from another life reared their ugly heads. Her hands tightened on his shoulders as he sank into her, her body taut before yielding as his length—intense, commanding—made her bite down a moan.

He paused.

“No, don’t stop,” she breathed. “Gods, this feels so good.”

“As it should,” he teased, moving again with tender, deliberate slowness, filling her up and giving her all the time in the world to adjust before picking up the pace.

“Theron.” Darkness and light swirled in her head. She tightened around him, desperate for more. “Please don’t stop.”

His pupils dilated, making his eyes darker than usual, locked on her as he moved with smooth, glorious precision.

It was like every fantasy she’d ever had about him coming to life, but so much better: the whispering cadence of his breath, his surging rhythm—it all belonged to her and she claimed it, her legs wrapped around the unyielding steel of his back as he unraveled her, thrust after thrust, until nothing remained: no memories, no sadness, no scars—all obliterated in an aching, annihilating sweetness that rushed from her core as he fulfilled his promise.

You. Bare underneath me, arching and—

Pleasure surged through her, sweet and stunning and shattering, rising in her throat with the sound of his name—and then a wave of bliss seethed through her, heightened by his incredulous, hoarse gasp: her name, darkly solemn—before he tightened, surged, and stilled inside her.

For a breathless moment, their souls touched.

Then they descended as they reclaimed their breaths.

He rested his forehead against hers, motionless, staying inside her, little shudders still coursing under their skins.

She cherished him—the brush of his beard against her cheek, a kiss on his still-hurried breath, the safety of his arms around her—as she softly settled back into herself.

But then another wave passed through her, and her eyes welled up with tears.

“Calliste?” He tensed over her, alarmed. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He rolled off her, gathering her into his arms.

She tried to blink back her tears but couldn’t; the emotions were too strong. “No.” Her voice cracked. “Of course not. It just felt... so good.”

His body relaxed as he let out a long breath. “Gods, you had me worried.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “So these are tears of happiness?”

“Yes.” She managed a smile despite quivering inside, still raw from the beauty of what they had just shared.

He brushed her tears away with his thumb. “Good,” he muttered, running his hand through her hair and holding her close. “These are the only tears I expect to see when you’re with me.”

She looked at him, desperate to memorize everything about this moment.

The moonlight seeping behind him outlined his rugged form in silver.

The golden glow of the candles danced on his face, illuminating his bewitching features, gilding his short-cropped beard, bold nose, and sensual lips.

She knew this would be her favorite memory of him: sated, half serious and half amused, and undeniably himself.

She was dazed by how she had never expected a night like this in her life: not in her wildest dreams, and certainly not with him.

Yet, now it had happened, etching itself into her memory and this moment seemed to be the logical conclusion of a thousand steps she had taken in her life, as if woven by the Fates.

“I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now.

” He shifted closer, his hand gliding from her stomach to her breast, his dangerous smile glinting in the silver-and-gold light.

“But I’m still too hungry, and you’re far too tempting.

” He pulled her into a heated kiss, swallowing her surprised gasp as she felt his firm arousal pressing against her hips.

He moved his lips to her ear. “Ready to find out if I’ve indeed mastered a thousand ways to pleasure a woman? ”