Page 9

Chapter

Eight

Bloom

Obsidian Wilds

N ot the actual devil, though that golden-eyed boy’s description wasn’t far off. This was the same man who’d bitten me and watched me drown in my dream, whose gaze had pinned me across the crowded courtyard. Now his arms held me tight against a hard chest that smelled of forbidden things.

Shadows clung to him like faithful hounds.

His bare torso glistened in the fading light, every muscle carved with unnatural perfection.

I gaped at his broad shoulders and cut chest. I’d seen few naked men, but instinct screamed this sculpted body wasn’t merely mortal but a lethal weapon wrapped in velvet skin.

Heat flooded my veins as his nostrils flared, drinking in my scent. He carried me effortlessly from the crater’s edge, his grip firm and careful, as if I might dissolve into mist. His dark hair fell in disheveled waves. Those winter-green eyes burned brighter, tracking my face with predatory focus.

“Uh, thank you.” My voice emerged embarrassingly breathless. “For catching me.”

His lips curved, not in a smile but in a claiming. “I’ll always catch you, little flower.” The vow slithered down my spine, too intimate for a stranger.

“You can let me go now.” Even as I spoke, my body arched closer. Nineteen years of isolation hadn’t prepared me for this, the way my pulse stuttered when his thumb brushed my ribcage, how my skin ached where we didn’t touch.

His chuckle rippled through me, dark and seductive. “You don’t want that, baby.”

Baby?

The endearment sent fresh heat pooling low in my belly. No one had ever called me that, not even Mom. His gaze dropped to my parted lips, and suddenly I wondered how his carnal mouth would feel against mine. The thought alone left me lightheaded.

I’d never been kissed.

But gods, I wanted his to be the first.

Just like in the courtyard, his nearness sent fire through my veins. That familiar hunger coiled in me, throbbing in time with my pulse. While my mouth went dry, my core grew slick and wet.

His fingers skimmed my throat, slow as a knife pressed to a pulse. “Do you know why?”

Every nerve ending sang. I bit back a whimper, even as my thoughts screamed retreat. This was how rabbits froze when the wolf circled—equal parts terror and terrible fascination.

I should push away. Run. Be the proper girl Mom had tried to shape.

But his thumb found the frantic flutter beneath my jaw, and all my resolve vanished like sugar in tea.

“Why?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I tilted my head, immediately regretting both the question and the instinctive gesture. My thoughts moved through molasses, thick and slow, drowned in his scent of woodsmoke and something darkly addictive.

His grin widened, all white, even teeth and predatory amusement. “First, I saved you.” A calloused thumb brushed my collarbone. “Second,” his voice dropped to a rumble that vibrated through my ribs, “you’re dripping for me, little flower.”

My breath hitched. Surely, I’d misheard. No one spoke like that outside of romance novels. And he shouldn’t be so crude.

“I beg your pardon?” The protest came out half-strangled.

His silky voice curled around my throat like a coil of smoke. “You’re one breath away from begging me to bend you over and fuck you good and hard.”

Heat flamed my cheeks even as my body arched toward him of its own volition. His touch burned through my gown, branding me with invisible marks. Every ounce of propriety screamed at me to slap that arrogant smirk off his face, to leave him with the sting of my fingerprints as a reminder.

Yet I hesitated.

Not from fear, but from something far more dangerous—curiosity .

He was a predator, yes. I knew the type—had seen their hungry stares in the French town near my cabin. But this man? The way his fingers traced my spine, possessive yet reverent…

No. He’d devour the world before letting harm touch me.

I didn’t know how I knew, only that the certainty settled deep in my bones.

I met his gaze, letting fury mask the thrill coursing through me. “ How dare you? ” The words trembled, revealing everything I refused to admit.

His minty breath washed over me, mingling with sandalwood and embers. Beneath it all lurked a scent that didn’t belong in this world, one that tugged at a memory I couldn’t quite grasp. Familiar as my own heartbeat, yet alien as the stars.

Then a vision struck:

Me—but not me—with crimson hair like spilled wine down to my ankles, curled against a mountain of a man in black silk as we watched the river of lavas.

The image shattered before I could breathe. Gone like smoke, leaving only the ghost of heat against my cheeks.

“Let’s make a deal.” His smirk was a blade against my self-control.

Moonlight caught the sharp angles of his beautiful face.

“If you’re not wet for me right now, I’ll release you and never glance your way again.

” His fingers flexed against my throat. “But if you are”—that dark gaze dropped to my mouth—“I get to taste what’s mine. ”

My pulse hammered against his palm. Before I could summon outrage, before I could even breathe, his other hand was under my skirt. No warning. No hesitation. Just heat and calloused fingers where I ached most.

My spine arched of its own accord, a silent surrender.

“What—” The protest died as his thumb circled me, the pressure exactly right. A moan tore from me, raw and unbidden. He worked me with ruthless prowess, alternating between featherlight strokes and delicious pressure. As if he’d mapped every secret place on my body long before today.

“Every inch of you craves my touch,” he murmured, voice thick with dark promise. “You’ve been waiting for me to relish you.”

The arrogance should have infuriated me. Instead, his words sent another pulse of heat between my thighs.

When he withdrew his hand, my hips chased his touch of their own accord, even as my mind screamed danger! Stop!

Then he did the most wicked thing.

Those same fingers, glistening with my desire, pressed against his tongue. His eyes flared like banked coals catching flame. “Honey and spring rain,” he rasped. “The taste I’ve hungered for.”

The whimper escaped before I could stop it. “We shouldn’t…I don’t even know you.”

“That can be corrected,” he said with a sinful smile that sent my pulse skittering. “Three questions,” he offered. “For each one, I taste you.”

“How?” My breath hitched as his hands tightened. “How exactly would you taste me?”

“Clever girl.” Heat flared in his gaze. His approval burned worse than shame. “Let me demonstrate.”

That wasn’t a real question!The protest died as the world tilted. Suddenly I was airborne, then sprawled across an obsidian table draped in black furs.

The impact should have shattered my ribs. Should have left me gasping for my inhaler. Instead, fire licked through my veins.

Since when did my fragile body crave such roughness? Sincehim. This stranger who haunted both my dreams and waking hours.

I pushed up onto my elbows, just in time to see him drag the gown past my hips. His gaze locked onto my bare pink flesh, the hunger in his eyes so palpable I felt it like a physical touch, bruising and delicious. When he exhaled, the breath shuddered through him, hot against my inner thigh.

A jolt of electricity shot down my spine. No one had ever looked at me like this, as if I were the last dessert and he’d been starving for centuries.

“Wait—”

The protest shattered as he yanked me forward, my ankles hitting his shoulders. Then his face was there, nuzzling against me with a growl that vibrated through my core. My heartbeat stuttered, then galloped. Every nerve lit up, screaming for more.

He inhaled me, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to drag his tongue through my slick heat.

The world narrowed to that single point of contact. Thought evaporated. There was only sensation—the stroke of his tongue, the scrape of his stubble, the unbearable tension coiling low in my belly. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding on as the first wave of pleasure crested.

Liquid heat pooled between my thighs, dripping onto the furs beneath me. His tongue moved with finesse, first teasing circles that made my legs tremble, then exploring me with broad, languid strokes that robbed me of breath.

A moan tore from my throat, raw and unfiltered. No fantasy could compare to this.

I should have asked his name. Should have demanded answers. But the words dissolved into gasps as he switched techniques, lapping at my most sensitive spot until my hips jerked off the table.

Devil suited him just fine.

His hands pinned my thighs as I arched, every nerve alight. The world narrowed to wet heat and the relentless rhythm of his mouth, a rhythm I never wanted to end.

His tongue thrust through my plump folds, already parted in eager invitation.

I might have been inexperienced, but my body recognized mastery. The thought of other women unraveling beneath this same wicked tongue sent acid through my veins, a jealousy so sharp it burned. I hated myself for it.

Then his tonguepushed into my heated channel, and reason shattered.

Each thrust lit fireworks along my nerves. This wasn’t just pleasure; it was revelation. My back arched off the furs, muscles locking around his face as if I could fuse us together.

A dark laugh vibrated against my skin when he pulled away. Cruel man—to stoke this wildfire, then deny me the flames.

“Please!” The word tore from me, ragged and desperate.

Because proper or not, I’d die if he stopped now.

The moment his tongue abandoned me, the autumn air rushed in, sharp and cold as ice against my exposed skin. Some semblance of common sense returned through the haze of fever.

“That’s—” My breath came in ragged bursts. “I never agreed to your terms.”

“And what are my terms?” His purr ghosted over my damp flesh. The words vibrated against my core, his breath teasing my still-throbbing entrance.

My body hummed like an instrument.