Page 145 of Silvercloak

Something stilled in his body, for a brief, interminable moment, but was swiftly gone again.

He cupped her jaw with his golden hand and kissed her on the lips, so tender it was barely a kiss at all. They pecked softly, sweetly, until gradually it deepened. Saffron ran her traitorous hand up his broadchest, up his neck, through his soft, silky hair. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, and that forbidden want pooled in her lower belly, tugging her toward him.

She propped herself up onto her elbow and kissed him harder, her wild silver-blond curls spilling over his chest and shoulders. He pressed a palm to the small of her back, and with a fluid swooping motion, turned her onto her back and flipped himself so that suddenly, he was the one hovering over her.

His body heavy and warm against hers, Levan pushed her curls away from her face and pressed a kiss just below her ear, where her jaw met her throat. He brushed his lips farther down the side of her neck, then pushed her tunic to one side and planted kisses along the ridge of her collarbone.

The more she tried to tell herself how wrong it was, the more she wanted it.

He was a glittering gamehouse, a blackcherry sour, a dark prophecy.

And in this moment, he washers.

His golden hand roved over her body, over the soft rolls of her stomach, the sloping curves of her thighs, the tender insides of her wrists, and the hard groove of her spine. She longed for him to find the throb between her legs, but he took his sweet time, alternating between fingertip traces and feathery kisses, the occasional dart of his tongue sending desire lancing through her.

She reached her own hands up to him, but he pushed her firmly away. Before she could feel stung, he murmured, “Last time, you had all the power. It’s my turn.”

Oh, hells.

“Deal,” she breathed, an agreement, a surrender.

He reached out and grabbed his wand from the holder on the bedside table, then took both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them up against the headboard. With a quirk of his brow, he muttered, “Et vinculorium.”

A length of narrow rope shot from around the curtain of the four-poster bed and tied Saff’s wrists in a tight sailor’s knot. The two ends secured themselves to the spindly wood of the bed frame, so tautly her hands couldn’t move an inch.

A silken shudder tore down her whole body. Nissa had known her way around ropes and chains, but there was something about this situation, this vicious snarl of a romance that could only end in ruin, that made everything feel heightened.

His eyes twinkled in response. “Sen evanevesstan.”

Saff’s clothes swept from her body to the floor, defying all seam-based logic, leaving her laid bare.

“Sen?” she asked lightly, though her pulse was hammering in her chest.

A smirk. “My intentions are far from honorable.”

He pressed her legs apart with the hard ridges of his hips and inched back on the bed, laying airy kisses down the center of her stomach, goosebumps stippling her whole body.

When his mouth reached herthere,her eyes rolled back in her head, and she couldn’t stifle the moan. Starting with delicate kisses, he worked his tongue in tiny, soft circles, his hands gripping her hips so hard it hurt. Her wrists yanked at their bounds of their own accord, and the bite of rope into her skin only intensified the feeling between her thighs.

Everything felt molten, alight, a swirling of pleasure that swelled and surged. All the blood in her body rose to the surface of her skin. Just as the mounting sensation was about to swallow her whole, his golden hand moved from her hip and two fingers plunged inside her, filling her with a delicious coldache.

She bit out a raw gasp.

“Oh, Saints,” she moaned, submitting to the overwhelming feeling.

“Shh,” Levan warned. “Can’t let anyone hear us.”

“Saaaaaints,” Saffron groaned louder, not truly caring who heard her blaspheme.

Levan grabbed his wand with his free hand. “Sen orisilentian.”

Her mouth clamped shut, and she could not open it again.

Not when he tugged at her nipple piercing, nor when he slid a third finger inside her.

As his tongue circled her faster and faster, and his fingers slid in and out until the pressure was too much to bear, it was tooeverything,she peaked and then plummeted off the cliff edge of pleasure, herwhole body shuddering around him, her magical well filling and then overflowing. Being trapped inside the pleasure, unable to move or speak, only made it more …more.It kept crashing down in waves, up and down her arms and legs, and she wanted to cry out but she couldn’t; she could only tremble silently, deliciously.

Withdrawing from her, Levan knelt back up onto his knees and tore his tunic over his head. Saffron tried not to look at the scarred mess of his arm—tried not to hate him for what he’d done to himself.