Page 44

Chapter forty-two

D imitri soared over snow-covered pines.

The glow of the southern palace illuminated an orange haze into the night, that grew brighter as he approached.

His wings burned and the pain spread through his back as he pressed on.

The desiccated corpse of his target had been left as an offering to Vinceret in the early evening.

Normally, he would have spent the night at a tavern, but the rancid taste of the male’s fear-rotted soul lingered on his tongue.

He’d cleanse his palette with Astrid’s fiery soul and sleep with his wife’s soft curves beneath his wing.

Guards and archers perched in the towers while soldiers patrolled the exterior wall.

Most windows were dimmed, the occupants fast asleep at this late hour.

Dimitri glided lower, allowing the guardsmen to identify him as he passed.

His head pounded with each beat of his wings and exhaustion sapped his strength.

He crested the exterior wall, acutely aware of his brother’s men. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he landed in his private green space. Dimitri rolled his tense shoulders as he approached the tall, arched windows and stilled. Dots of condensation beaded the glass.

Dimitri leaned back and took silent inventory of the other windows. His neva had apparently made changes during his absence. The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin.

She’s accepting these quarters as her new home.

He glanced down at the sill. A strange, red plant had been placed against the frame. Dimitri picked up the stalk covered in small red blooms. Graymalkin must have found it during one of his adventures and left it when Astrid didn’t come to the window.

He opened the glass panel and the summer’s warmth poured out of his room.

By the blood, my little wife likes the heat.

He closed the window and approached his bed. Astrid lay on her side dressed in one of his shirts with a sheet pulled up to her waist. She curled up to Graymalkin—no more than a fluffy mass sprawled on his back.

He turned to drop his cat’s foraged trophy on his nightstand only to find his furniture missing. Wrath needled beneath his skin as he assessed the rest of his room. He located his nightstand, and his gaze lifted to the robed silhouettes carved into his wall.

Dimitri glared in his wife’s direction. After he set his room to rights, he was going to flog her until she begged for his forgiveness.

He stalked to his nightstand and paused.

A dish was placed at its center with chunks of cooked beef piled on it.

He turned toward her and choked back his searing fury.

She made this room her own and left offerings to her goddess .

His rage quieted as he approached her sleeping form.

He discarded the flower on his desk and assessed his entitled wife.

The sheets were tangled around her legs and hugged the curve of her ass.

His shirt was too large for her and all but two buttons were unfastened.

The collar gaped open over her bare shoulder and her dark hair pooled behind her.

She was stunning—and his.

His gaze raked over the carved Three-Faced Mother and lowered to her offering. What had she asked her goddess for? He would sacrifice anything Vinceret required to keep his vicious beauty by his side.

The moonlight reflected off the scar marking the top of his hand.

He splayed his fingers, admiring it, then headed to his ensuite.

He stripped and bathed quickly, cleansing himself of the sweat and grime from his travels.

The room was uncomfortably warm, and Dimitri wondered how his little wife could sleep so soundly, completely oblivious to his return.

The crackle of flames drew his attention.

He would order Keres to tame the fire to a manageable temperature.

She was likely the only one who’d dare make changes in his room.

Dimitri slipped into bed over the warmed sheet and laid on his side behind Astrid.

Her honey and wildflower scent surrounded him, and the tension of their separation dissipated.

He’d found a kind of peace with his feral neva.

Craved her presence. She would sleep in his arms tonight and like it.

He smoothed his hand over her waist and dragged her close, disturbing Graymalkin who left her with a lyrical chirp.

Astrid took a deep breath and wiggled against him. Her ass ground against his hardening cock and she ran her nails along his forearm in the same way he imagined she would pet his cat’s belly before stilling once more.

He spread his wing over her legs and brushed his lips over the delicate skin at the nape of her neck. The beat of her heart and her quiet breathing soothed his pounding temples.

A whispered sigh slipped past Astrid’s full lips as she leaned into him. He held her close, content for her to dream quietly in his embrace. Exhaustion blanketed his mind, and his eyes closed.

The gentle scrape of her nails pulled him back. Her fingertips traced twisting lines down his forearm in a featherlight caress, and on her next breath she jerked away from him.

Dimitri tightened his hold, and her power flared over him the next instant. He smiled, nuzzling her soft hair. The feel of her magic heated his blood. Soft ribbons, gliding over his body like warm silk.

“It’s me, mylaja,” Dimitri crooned.

“What did you call me?” Astrid snapped.

Dimitri caught both her wrists in one hand and angled his wing to hook the talon through her golden bracelets.

His muscles ached as he straightened his wing and lifted her to her knees.

He languidly rose behind her, pressing his chest into her back.

Her arms stretched over her head and, after a few stubborn tugs, she calmed.

Dimitri palmed her thigh and lifted his hand up her bare waist.

“Always, you insult me,” Dimitri purred at her ear.

He lifted his wingtip and slid the talon between the buttons of his shirt. It took no pressure to cut them free. He traced the edge of his wing along the underside of her breast and parted his lips, drawing against her soul. Her taste coated his tongue, spiced and sweet.

He lingered over her, savoring every moment. She arched her back and Dimitri’s breath caught when the curve of her ass dragged along his cock. He sliced the remaining button and teased her nipple with the edge of his wing.

Astrid tensed and yanked against her restraints.

“I can scent how wet you’re getting for me,” Dimitri whispered. He reached higher, palming her breast before pinching the hard peak. Astrid’s breathing turned ragged, and he lifted the wing hooking her bracelets, forcing her to lean into him.

“I’ll teach you to like them,” he promised, caressing her cheek with the edge of his wing.

Astrid twisted away from his touch. “I’m not a dog you can train.”

“You could never be something so mundane,” he said before bringing his lips to her throat.

Dimitri released her wrists and lowered his wings around them.

Not touching her, but visible. He swept her glossy hair over one shoulder and hooked his fingers under the collar of his shirt.

She didn’t fight as he slid the cashmere linen down her arms.

“You’re not a pet to be trained,” he murmured, before flipping her onto her back and prowling over her lithe body. “You’re my wife,” he whispered at her lips.

She met his stare and softened beneath him. Dimitri leaned closer, stilling when her fingertips met his sternum. Her touch was gentle, tracing the hard, chiseled muscle of his chest before following his collarbone to his shoulder.

Dimitri rocked against her. The head of his cock slid over her silken flesh. She was wet for him. Needy. He angled his hips and thrusted, driving into her warmth. Pleasure racked him and her legs closed around his waist. He stroked into her harder, burying himself in her cunt.

He let his shadows unravel and caress her.

His magic swept over her, mingling with the tiny golden stars of her soul.

He savored her taste and fucked her harder, completely entranced.

She took every thrust, arching her back for more as she moaned his name.

Her nails raked over his chest and shoulders.

Her cunt squeezed his cock each time she came.

“My wife,” Dimitri groaned at her lips as he took her with desperate strokes. “The only female as bloodthirsty and vicious as I am.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she pulled him closer. Dimitri couldn’t think and didn’t care to. She surrounded him. Engulfed him. Her lips met his in a heated rush and he drank her affection. She could take another stab at his heart, if it meant she was his, fleeting as this was.

Her tongue glided against his, stroking into his mouth. She nibbled on his lip and sucked on his tongue. Dimitri followed her, even as his mind screamed it was a trap. He clung to each moment, waiting for the sting of her bite.

He wrapped her in his arms and thrust deeper, forcing her to take every inch of his cock into her greedy cunt.

She broke their kiss long enough to cry, “Harder,” but kept him close.

Her nails dug into his shoulder as she trembled beneath him. Dimitri nearly came as her breaths fanned over his ear. As she moaned and panted for him, he thrusted into her, desperate and harsh.

Dimitri came hard, completely entranced by the female in his arms. She caught the side of his chin with her index and turned him to face her.

Her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were flushed with strands of her dark hair clinging to her forehead.

There was no tension in her midnight eyes.

No calculated focus or fiery viciousness.

She wore a smile, and the emotion glittered in her stare.

She sensuously dragged her thumb across his mouth and said, “You don’t have to fuck me like you’ll never see me again. I’ll be here in the morning.”

He knew better than to believe her, but Vinceret save him, it felt like she meant it.