Page 77 of Sweet Venom Of Time (Blade of Shadows #6)

Before I could speak, before I could drown in the ache, Amir closed the distance between us.

His arms enveloped me, drawing me into the eye of the storm, where only we existed.

“Gods, how I have wanted to do this for so long,” he breathed against my hair, his lips brushing my temple, igniting a fire in my soul.

To be in his arms was serenity, a fleeting sanctuary from the war outside and within.

When his lips met mine, time ceased to exist. The kiss was everything—a promise, a plea, a branding of love and desperation. Passion, raw and consuming, melded us together, two broken pieces finding wholeness in each other.

His eyes burned into me as he pulled away—fierce, unwavering, the same fire I felt blazing in my chest.

“I want to marry you,” Amir confessed, his voice a fervent whisper, hoarse with need and truth. “But it must be in secret. Know this, Elizabeth—I love you. I will always be devoted to you. Always.”

Shock tore through the grief, scattering the darkness with a wild, untamed hope. Lord Winston’s cold, leering face flitted through my mind—a prison I had once been chained to. And this—this was its antithesis. Not duty, not arrangement—this was love, sacred and defiant.

My answer came from the deepest part of me, pure and unshakable.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. I’ll marry you,” I vowed, my heart surging, my voice unshaken. “My heart belongs to you. You’re not just Roman’s father, Amir. You’re my everything.”

His eyes locked onto mine in the room’s dimness, igniting a fire that devoured me from the inside out. There was no fear, no hesitation—only need. Need for him. For us. For this.

His hands were rough, hungry, as they found the frayed edges of my doeskin dress.

The fabric barely held together, and he tore it open with a growl, letting it slip to the floor, exposing me inch by inch to the heat of his gaze.

His eyes devoured me, dark and molten, and then his mouth was on me—every kiss a scorch mark, his tongue drawing shivers as it traced the sensitive hollow of my throat, the peaks of my breasts, the dip of my stomach.

I gasped, arching into him, my skin alive, tingling, desperate. Every nerve on fire with anticipation. His lips latched onto a nipple, sucking hard, then softer, then biting just enough to make me cry out—a cry he swallowed with a fierce, claiming kiss.

Exhaustion was gone—obliterated. There was only this hunger, and I was drowning in it, gladly. He pushed me back against the wall, his thigh forcing mine apart, and I moaned as his fingers slid down, unerringly finding the slick heat between my legs.

“Gods, Elizabeth, you’re soaking,” he groaned against my neck, his fingers teasing my entrance, spreading me, tormenting me. “I need to be inside you—now.”

“Then take me,” I panted, writhing, aching, every part of me begging. “No more waiting. Take me. Hard.”

His growl was feral as he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him, needy, greedy, and with a rough thrust, he buried himself inside me—deep, thick, filling me to the hilt.

I cried out, my nails digging into his back, his name a breathless chant on my lips as he pounded into me, every stroke a brutal, beautiful claim.

“Mine,” he snarled, driving deeper, faster, until the room dissolved, and all that remained was this—his cock inside me, our bodies slamming together, sweat and moans, and pure, wild ecstasy.

“Yours, always yours,” I gasped, clutching him closer, begging, unraveling.

We collapsed onto the bed, panting, flushed, limbs tangled. I straddled him, taking control, his cock still hard and ready beneath me. His eyes blazed up at me, dark and savage, and I guided him back inside, slowly, this time—teasing us both with every inch I took.

“Elizabeth, fuck—” he groaned, thrusting up, but I pressed my hands to his chest, holding him down.

I rode him slowly at first, savoring the feel of him beneath me—the way his hands guided my hips, his dark eyes locked on mine with that familiar mix of desire and reverence. Our rhythm was built with each movement, every stroke drawing a soft gasp from my lips, and every shift deepened our bond.

His chest rose and fell, muscles taut and slick with sweat, and beneath my palms, I could feel the power he held—restrained but simmering.

“Elizabeth…” Amir’s voice was a low groan, barely controlled. His grip tightened, grounding me in the moment. “You feel perfect.”

I leaned forward, brushing my lips along his jaw, letting the swell of my breasts press to his chest. His hands roamed my back, tracing the curve of my spine, anchoring me as I moved—slow, deliberate, dragging out every sensation.

I saw the tension building in his body, the wild need beneath the surface, and when he suddenly stilled me, I knew.

His hands gripped my hips—firm, commanding—and in one fluid motion, he withdrew.

The sudden emptiness punched the breath from my lungs, a whimper tangled in my throat.

But then—a gasp. Sharp. Shattered. He turned me, guiding me onto all fours with a possessive ease that left no space for question, only surrender.

The air kissed my flushed skin, but then he was there—behind me, against me, his chest warm against my back, the heat of him overwhelming.

One hand slid along my waist, the other pressing between my shoulder blades, holding me still, anchoring me as his body aligned with mine. His breath was hot against my ear, and his voice was low, rough silk when he spoke.

“Like this, Elizabeth. Let me have you. Let me feel you—all of you.”

I pushed back into him instinctively, my body yearning, open, ready. A soft cry left my lips as he entered me again, slowly, deeply, filling me until I was breathless, his groan a sound of raw satisfaction.

We moved together, the pace unhurried but intense, every stroke deep, designed to make me feel every inch of him. His hands roamed over me—my hips, my back, one sliding beneath to tease my breast, the pad of his thumb brushing my nipple until I moaned his name, shivering.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing my neck, his voice a mix of tenderness and command. “Like this. Always.”

My hands fisted the blanket beneath us as I matched his rhythm, meeting every thrust with a grind of my hips, our bodies locked, our breath coming in gasps and sighs.

The heat built slowly, sweetly, each moment pulling me deeper into him, into the intensity of our connection, until there was nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his love.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, my voice shaking with need.

“Never,” he growled softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, moving harder, deeper, his pace tightening, tension coiling between us like a storm ready to break.

His rhythm shifted—deeper, harder, more urgent—his hands anchoring me with a possessive grip, guiding every thrust. Each stroke unraveled me, pulling me closer to the edge until my body trembled, desperate for release.

“Amir… please—don’t stop—” My voice was breathless, cracked with need, my body arching into his, surrendering to the fire between us.

“I’ve got you, love. Just feel me. Let go.” His words, low and urgent, wrapped around me like silk, a command and a promise in one.

His hand slid beneath me, finding that bundle of nerves slick and throbbing, his fingers circling, coaxing. The sensation hit me hard—pleasure sparking like wildfire, my breath catching, my limbs shaking.

And then I shattered.

A cry tore from my throat, his name on my lips as my climax ripped through me, blinding and hot, my body tightening around him, clenching, pulsing, lost in the storm of sensation.

Amir groaned—a deep, raw sound of surrender—his pace faltering, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he thrust deep one final time, holding there as his release overtook him.

I felt it—the tremble of his body, the tension breaking, the heat of him spilling inside me as he pressed his chest to my back, breath ragged against my skin.

We stayed there, bodies entwined, trembling, our breaths loud and uneven, filling the space like music.

Slowly, tenderly, Amir eased out of me, drawing a soft gasp from my lips as the last tremors of pleasure rippled through me.

The air between us felt thick with heat, our skin damp, breath ragged.

He didn’t let me go—instead, he pulled me down onto the blankets, guiding me into the warmth of his embrace, our bodies still flushed, tangled, utterly sated.

I melted against him, my back to his chest, every inch of me pressed to his skin.

His arm was tight around my waist, fingers splayed low over my stomach, possessive and protective.

His heart beat against my spine, the rhythm grounding me, as a different kind of heat curled low in my belly—not urgent but smoldering, alive.

His soft and slow lips brushed my neck, tasting the salt of my skin. He didn’t speak at first. His hand wandered lazily, fingertips tracing the curve of my hip, the waist dip, sliding over my thigh in a sensual path that made my breath catch.

“You are like no other woman,” he whispered, his voice husky, grazing my ear like velvet. “There is more fire in you than in all of Persia.”

A shiver rolled through me, and I turned in his arms to face him, our legs entwined, my hand sliding up to rest on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath my palm.

“I could say the same about you,” I murmured, my lips brushing his jaw, my fingers gliding over the hard lines of his torso, lingering on the scars that marked him, each one a story. “You make me feel alive… like I’m burning.”

He kissed me—slow, sensual, a kiss meant to savor, not devour. His tongue teased mine, coaxing, tasting as if he needed to memorize me. And when he pulled back, his gaze was molten, filled with a need that never seemed to fade.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he murmured against my lips. His fingers slipped lower, caressing my thigh. His touch was lazy and tender but laced with the promise of more.

I let out a breath, content and aching, pressing my forehead to his. We both knew forever wasn’t ours to have, but in this moment, with his hands on me and his scent surrounding me, the world faded to nothing.

His hand slid to the small of my back, drawing idle circles, his touch sparking little flickers of heat as his voice rumbled low, right against my throat.

“I love you,” he said, not a whisper but a claim, a vow, every syllable sinking into my skin.

The words wrapped around me, a warmth deeper than his embrace, binding us.

“This is our secret,” he continued, his hand drifting to cup my breast gently, his thumb teasing over the sensitive peak, drawing a sudden, shuddering breath from me. “We will keep it, protect it. Protect you… Roman… us.”

His plea was a fortress built around our fragile space, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside.

I pulled back, needing to see him, read the truth in his eyes, and anchor myself in the depth of what we shared. My hand rested on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath my fingers.

“Promise me you’ll always come to see me,” I whispered, trembling, laced with hope and dread.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. But it wasn’t enough.

I swallowed hard, leaning closer, my lips brushing his. “Promise me… there will be no other women. Just me. Just us. My love, I can’t bear to be yours secretly and wonder if I’m alone.”

The words tore out of me—raw, vulnerable, a need I couldn’t hide.

Amir’s hand rose to cradle my cheek, his touch reverent and grounding, and his eyes dark and unwavering.

“There is only you, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low, firm, full of truth. “I could never touch another. You are my beginning and my end. You have all of me. Always.”

He kissed me then, slow and deep, not with urgency—but devotion, sealing his vow in the heat of that touch. In the way he held me. The way he trembled slightly, as though the thought of losing me could undo him.

His lips lingered on mine, and the earnestness in his gaze bore into me, a promise etched not only in words but also in the essence of his being.

“I will never betray you,” he vowed again, sealing it with another kiss that spoke every silent word we could not say aloud.

As his lips left mine, a hush fell between us, heavy with the weight of our promises and the reality waiting beyond this fragile peace.

I clung to him, willing time to stop—because somewhere in my bones, I knew it wouldn’t be long before this world shattered again.

Because love like ours?

It was never meant to survive.

And far beyond the city, in the depths of shadow and fire, a man moved across the chessboard of our lives—a hunter with no mercy and a name that hunted my blood.

Salvatore was coming.

And this time, he would not leave without blood.