Page 9

Sierra

I woke up disoriented, my mind foggy with sleep and something else—something hotter, more insistent. The sheets beneath me felt like silk against my bare skin, but they weren't mine. The pillow cradling my head carried a scent that made my insides clench with want. Masculine. Dangerous. Familiar.

Archer.

My eyes fluttered open to take in unfamiliar surroundings. Dark wood paneling lined walls that stretched up to a vaulted ceiling. Heavy crimson drapes blocked most of the light, casting the massive bedroom in a sultry glow. The bed I was sprawled across could have comfortably fit six people.

Memories from the previous night flooded back. Archer carrying me through shadows, his arms strong and secure around me. Rowen's obsidian eyes watching me with possession and hunger. Their voices, deep and soothing, promising me everything would be alright.

"You're in the underworld now, little necromancer," Rowen had said. "You're safe here."

Safe. I almost laughed at the word. I didn't feel safe. I felt... on fire.

I turned my face into Archer's pillow, inhaling deeply. His scent, like dark forests and steel and something uniquely him. wrapped around me like a physical touch. God, it was intoxicating. I pressed my thighs together, suddenly aware of the slick heat pooling between them.

"Fuck," I whispered, burying my face deeper into his pillow.

Something was happening to me. Something primal and urgent. Every nerve ending in my body felt hypersensitive, like my skin was one trigger away from burning up. Was this what Gran had meant when she'd warned me about my heat? The mating heat that would come for me when I turned twenty-nine?

I'd laughed it off as another one of her superstitions. Now, as need clawed through my insides like a living thing, I wasn't laughing anymore.

I rolled onto my back, the sheet sliding away to expose my naked body to the cool air.

When had I taken off my clothes? I couldn't remember.

All I knew was that the caress of air against my nipples made them tighten almost painfully.

I ran my hands over my flushed skin, my own touch both a relief and a torment.

"Gran, you could have been more specific about what this feels like," I muttered to the empty room.

No ghosts appeared to answer me. That was unusual. For as long as I could remember, the dead had always been near, watching over me, protecting me. But here, in the underworld, perhaps even they couldn't reach me.

I was alone with this building inferno.

My fingers slid lower, over the slight swell of my stomach, tracing the curve of my hip.

I was so wet already, so ready. For what, and for who, I wasn't entirely sure.

Images flashed through my mind: Archer's ice-blue eyes darkening with lust, Rowen's obsidian gaze consuming me, both of them touching me, claiming me.

A whimper escaped my lips as my fingers found my clit, already swollen and desperate for attention.

The bedroom door swung open.

I froze, my hand still between my thighs, my eyes widening as Archer stepped into the room. His dark hair was tied back, exposing the sharp angles of his face. Those ice-blue eyes locked onto mine, then dropped to where my hand disappeared between my legs.

"Fuck me," he breathed, the two words sounding like both a curse and a prayer.

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I couldn't bring myself to move my hand. If anything, the pressure of my fingers against my clit intensified as he watched.

"I can smell you," Archer's voice dropping an octave as he closed the door behind him. "Your slick. It's driving me insane."

He moved closer, each step deliberate, predatory. The daggers strapped to his thighs glinted in the dim light. I should have been frightened—a dangerous assassin stalking toward me while I lay naked and vulnerable on his bed. Instead, anticipation coiled tighter in my belly.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, stopping at the foot of the bed.

"Not long." My voice came out hoarse, needy. "Where am I?"

"My chambers. In Rowen's palace."

My fingers circled lazily against my clit, almost of their own volition. Archer's eyes tracked the movement, his pupils dilating until only a thin ring of blue remained.

"And Rowen?" The question came out breathier than I intended.

"Council meeting." Archer's tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. "He'll be back shortly."

A council meeting. Right. Because Rowen was the ruler of the underworld, and rulers had responsibilities. The thought seemed distant and unimportant compared to the urgent need pulsing between my thighs.

"I think..." I swallowed hard, struggling to form coherent thoughts through the haze of arousal. "I think my heat is starting. My grandmother warned me about it."

Archer nodded, his jaw clenching. "We know. We can sense it. It's why we brought you here, where you'll be protected during the process."

Protected. There was that word again. But protection wasn't what I needed right now.

"Archer," I whispered, spreading my legs wider, letting him see exactly how wet I was for him. "Please."

He made a strangled sound deep in his throat. "Please what, Sierra?"

"Make me come." The words fell from my lips without hesitation, without embarrassment. All pretense was burned away by the fire in my blood. "I need it. I need you."

Something dark and hungry flashed across his face. In three fluid strides, he was at the side of the bed, looking down at me with an intensity that stole my breath.

"Rowen should be here," he muttered, but his hands were already plucking various daggers from his body and setting them on the dresser.

"I don't care," I moaned, arching my back as my fingers increased their pace. "I can't wait. Please, Archer."

Several of his weapons hit the floor with a heavy thud, and then his hands were on my thighs, spreading them even wider as he knelt between them.

"Keep touching yourself," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to watch you while I taste you."

Oh god. The image of him between my legs, his mouth on me, sent a fresh wave of slick rushing from my core. I nodded frantically, my fingers continuing their work on my clit while my other hand gripped the sheets beneath me.

Archer lowered his head, his hot breath fanning against my inner thigh. "You smell fucking delicious," he groaned. "Like everything I've ever wanted and never known to ask for."

Before I could respond, his tongue licked a broad stripe through my folds, from entrance to clit, gathering my wetness. The contact was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure so intense that my back arched off the bed.

"Fuck!" I cried out, my fingers faltering in their rhythm.

Archer growled against my pussy, the vibrations adding another layer to the sensation. "Keep touching yourself," he reminded me, before diving back in with singular focus.

I resumed my circles, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as this deadly, dangerous man devoured me like I was his last meal. His tongue was relentless, alternating between broad strokes and pointed precision, learning what made me shake and moan the loudest.

"You taste even better than you smell," he said, lifting his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with my arousal. "So sweet and fucking perfect."

I whimpered, my hips starting to move of their own accord, seeking more of his mouth.

"That's it," he encouraged, sliding two fingers through my folds, gathering my slick. "Show me how much you want this. How much you need me to make you come."

"So much," I gasped, my free hand moving to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "I need it so bad."

He groaned against me, the sound primal and appreciative. His fingers teased at my entrance, circling but not pushing in. "You're soaked for me, little necromancer."

"Please," I begged, beyond shame, beyond anything but the desperate need for release. "Inside. I need you inside."

"Like this?" he asked, pushing one long finger into me, curling it upward to find that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"Yes!" I arched off the bed again, my walls clenching around his finger. "More, please, more."

He added a second finger, stretching me deliciously as he pumped them in and out. His tongue returned to my clit, circling it with devastating precision. The dual sensations had me racing toward the edge embarrassingly fast.

"You're going to come for me," Archer murmured against my flesh, his voice vibrating through me. "And then you're going to come again. And again. Until you're begging me to stop instead of begging me for more."

His words, filthy and promising, combined with the skilled movements of his fingers and tongue, pushed me over.

My orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, making me cry out his name as my walls pulsed around his fingers.

He didn't let up, working me through it, drawing it out until I was trembling and gasping for air.

"One," he counted, a smug satisfaction in his voice.

Before I could recover, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking into me with it, tasting me from the inside while his thumb took over the work on my clit. The new sensation had me building again almost immediately, the second peak approaching even faster than the first.

"Oh god, oh god," I chanted, my hips rolling against his face, chasing the pleasure he was giving me.

"You gonna come again for me already?" Archer asked, his voice dark with desire. "Look at you, so fucking desperate and needy. Your pussy is gushing for me."

His dirty talk sent another rush of heat through me. I nodded frantically, words beyond me now.

"That's it," he encouraged, redoubling his efforts. "Give it to me. Let me feel you come on my tongue."

The second orgasm hit me harder than the first, wringing a scream from my throat as my entire body convulsed. Archer moaned against me, drinking in my release like it was the finest wine.

"Two," he said, his voice strained now, his own need evident in the tension of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw.

I lay there, panting, sweat making my silver hair stick to my temples and neck. My body felt boneless, satisfied, yet somehow still hungry for more. The heat in my blood hadn't diminished. If anything, it had intensified.

Archer moved up my body, his clothed chest brushing against my naked skin as he hovered over me. "One more," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "I want to hear you scream one more time."

His fingers returned to my oversensitive flesh, making me gasp and jerk. It was too much and not enough all at once. I clutched at his shoulders, feeling the corded muscles beneath his shirt.

"I don't know if I can—" I started, but he cut me off with a fierce look.

"You can," he insisted, his thumb finding my clit again. "And you will. For me."

His confidence in my body's response was both intimidating and incredibly arousing. He slid two fingers back inside me, curling them expertly to hit that perfect spot, while his thumb worked my clit in tight circles.

"Look at you," he murmured, his eyes devouring the sight of me sprawled beneath him, flushed and desperate. "So fucking beautiful. Your pussy is perfection. Tight and wet and hungry for more."

I moaned, my hips lifting to meet his hand, chasing the building pressure. "Archer!"

"That's it," he encouraged. "Say my name when you come. I want Rowen to hear it echoing in these halls when he returns. I want him to know who made you fall apart first."

The possessiveness in his voice, the way he wanted to mark me as his even in Rowen's absence, pushed me closer to the edge. My walls began to flutter around his fingers as the third orgasm approached.

"I'm close," I warned, my voice breaking on the words.

"Give it to me," he demanded, increasing the speed and pressure of his movements. "Come for me, Sierra. Now."

My release crashed over me like lightning, electric and all-consuming. I screamed his name, just as he'd commanded, my body arching off the bed as pleasure radiated outward from my core. My nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood, even through his shirt.

"Three," Archer counted triumphantly, slowly withdrawing his fingers as I collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent.

He brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving mine. The sight was so erotic that I felt a fresh pulse of desire, despite my exhaustion.

"Delicious," he pronounced, a wicked smile curving his lips. "I could feast on you for days."

I let out a breathless laugh, my limbs heavy with satisfaction. "Is that a promise?"

Archer's eyes darkened further, if that was possible. "Absolutely."

He stretched out beside me on the bed, fully clothed while I lay completely naked. The contrast should have made me feel vulnerable, but instead, I felt powerful. This dangerous man had been brought to his knees by my pleasure.

My moans still seemed to hang in the air around us, evidence of what we'd just shared. I turned my head to look at him, taking in the sharp lines of his profile, the slight flush on his high cheekbones.

"Better?" he asked, his voice gentler now, though no less intense.

I nodded, though we both knew it was temporary. The heat was still there, banked but not extinguished, ready to flare again at any moment. "For now."

Archer brushed a strand of silver hair from my face, his touch unexpectedly tender. "Rowen will be back soon," he said. "And then we'll take care of you properly."

The promise in those words sent another shiver through me. Two of them. Both of them. Together.

Now I just needed Callum here too.

Wait a fucking minute. Where had that thought came from?

"I'm already back, and we need to have a discussion before going any further," Rowen's voice drew me out of my haze and dumped a bucked of ice water over my head.

A discussion. Also known as the "We need to talk" speech.

Uh oh.