Page 49 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

AURELIUS

I flip through the weathered pages of the book in my lap, trying to lose myself in the words in hopes of ignoring the pain in my chest. Breyla’s suggestion that we shouldn’t have been cut deep.

It felt like something cracked inside of me when she refused to refute it. She was adept at using her words as weapons, but never had she wielded them so precisely against me.

The third time I read the same sentence, and it still makes no more sense than the first, I let out a huff of frustration.

Closing the book gently, I lay it on the bedside table, opting for the glass of spiced rum instead. I take a long sip, tasting each spice as it rushes over my tongue and burns down my throat.

A soft knock sounds from the door. It’s so quiet, I wonder if I imagined it.

The ball had ended hours ago, the last of the guests departing before I returned to my room.

Breyla never came back to the celebration after I left her in the dark. Not that I could blame her.

Another knock, this time louder. This time, I know I’m not imagining it.

Shock rattles through me when I open the door to find Breyla standing there.

She’s dressed in a white nightgown, a heavy black robe wrapped around her, auburn hair disheveled, bare feet peeking out beneath the hem. She’s the single most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

“What are you doing here, Breyla?” I choke out.

Lifting her hand to me in the offering, she says, “It won’t stop bleeding.”

Sure enough, there’s a steady trickle of blood pooling in her palm and dripping onto the floorboards.

I step aside, letting her pass. Closing the door behind her, I take her hand gently to inspect the wound.

“This should have started scabbing over by now,” I mutter.

“It did,” Breyla confirms.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, it just started bleeding again.” She shrugs. “I didn’t want to bother the castle surgeon.”

I hold it closer, inspecting the wound closely. “Did you pick the scab off this?”

“Why would I do that?” Her voice holds none of the usual snark I would expect from such a question.

“You didn’t answer,” I say, meeting her gaze.

“No. Of course not.”

Lie.

I choose not to call her on it. Instead, I use my Gift, weaving the blood back into order, forcing it to clot. I suck in a deep breath, wondering what she’s doing in my room after pushing me away so definitively.

“You meant it earlier,” I say quietly, “when you suggested we never should have been.”

Her voice is soft, trembling as she says, “It’s not a lie.”

“That doesn’t make it the absolute truth.”

“We’ve always been a bad idea, Aurelius.”

I flinch, her words striking as sharply as a slap to the face.

She’d always been off-limits, something I should have never wanted. But I never once considered her a mistake.

Her tone is regretful, but I would never regret her.

“I know that, Princess,” I rasp. “So then, what are you doing here?”

“You kissed her,” she hisses, diverting her gaze to the floor.

I pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at me. “You know damn well I didn’t kiss her. The only female I wanted to kiss is standing right in front of me.”

“Wanted?” She asks, emphasizing the past tense.

“Yes, wanted.” I let the word hang there between us. “She also happens to be infuriatingly stubborn and determined to shatter my heart. I can’t keep wanting the female who has made it painfully clear she belongs to another.”

I watch her endless emerald eyes search mine as the blow of my words settles on her. Tears pool at their corners.

“Take it back,” she pleads, wrapping her small hand around the one still holding her chin.

The gentle squeeze nearly breaks my resolve.

When I remain quiet, letting her feel the weight of her words the way she made me, she makes a startled choking sound that I feel in my soul.

“Aurelius, please,” she chokes. “Take it back.”

“Why should I?” I demand. “Give me a reason, Breyla.”

“Because every time I close my eyes, I see her kissing you, and it fills me with a rage so poisonous it burns. Because every time I lose that stupid bargain and have to kiss Ayden, I desperately wish it were you.” Her tone grows frantic, desperation filling every word.

“I would wear dresses every day for the rest of my life if it meant I never had to kiss another who wasn’t you. ”

Her chest heaves, breath coming in short, as her free hand twists into the hair at the back of my neck. The tips of her nails dig into the skin on the back of my hand and neck as she pulls closer.

“Do you hear me, Aurelius?” Her voice teeters on hysteria. “I would give up pants for the remainder of my days if it meant having you. Forget Ayden. Forget this gods-damned marriage. I just want you.”

A few tense heartbeats pass before I break.

“You really do hate dresses,” I murmur, a rough laugh breaking from my chest. “That's a mighty declaration coming from you.”

The sound that breaks from her is somewhere between a sob and a choked laugh. The tears that were pooling in her eyes now freely flow down her cheeks. “I really do,” she manages, her voice hitching with relief.

I release her chin, my fingers reaching to caress her cheek and wipe away the rogue tears.

“I’m sorry, Aurelius,” she says softly. “I’m sorry I punished you for so long and refused to hear you. I used Ayden to hurt you because I was hurting, and that wasn’t fair to either of you.”

Her voice trembles, but she doesn’t falter. “I still don’t know how we fix this. I still don’t know how we dissolve this betrothal without risking war. But I want you. I choose you.”

“Breyla,” I whisper, my heart breaking open inside my chest. “It’s always been you.”

I run my thumb along her jaw. “I couldn’t explain it for years, but that’s how long I’ve been fighting what I feel for you.” The confession slips off my tongue like the sweetest honey.

She blinks up at me, confused. “You hated me.”

“I’ve never hated you, little demon.” A smile curls my lips. “Found you infuriatingly stubborn and obnoxious at times? Absolutely. But hate you? Never.”

I step closer, my voice a rasp of truth. “You have been the source of my greatest frustration and the epitome of my most consuming passion for years.”

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate to utter that last confession for fear it will shatter the tumultuous peace between us.

“I don’t care if we shouldn’t be together,” she says fiercely. ”You feel right. You feel like home.”

“You are my home, Breyla.” I drop my hand to her waist, pulling her flush against me.

“Where you go, I go. You are mine.”

Suddenly, there is far too much clothing between us.

A subtle gasp escapes when I capture her lips with my own. The kiss is an all-consuming representation of every emotion floating between us. It tastes like passion, sorrow, regret, joy, desire, and undeniable familiarity all woven together.

The heavy black robe slides from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. The white nightgown she wears does nothing to hide her body from me, the hardened peaks of her nipples, the curves I know as well as my own skin.

It’s too much. And not enough.

She pulls the nightgown over her head in one fluid motion, leaving her gloriously bare before me.

I walk her backward until she hits the bed, the air around us electric.

Her fingers snap, erecting a sound barrier around the room. A wicked gleam dances in her eye.

“We don’t need anyone hearing what’s about to happen,” I murmur approvingly, shoving her down onto the mattress.

She cocks a brow at me. “That’s not what you said the last time.”

I lean over her, shoving my sleep pants down with one hand, leaving us both completely exposed.

“I had a message to send last time. But now that we know you belong to me, no one else will ever hear those noises from you but me.”

“That shouldn’t be arousing,” she mumbles.

Goose bumps pebble her flesh as I trace a finger down the center of her chest, drawing lazy but intentional patterns over her most sensitive spots.

“Everything you do is arousing to me, little demon,” I counter, peppering soft kisses along her jaw.

She gasps as my fingers find the soft flesh of her thighs, then climb higher until I’m perched at her entrance.

“I need you to soak my fingers, beautiful,” I warn. “I’m going to use my Gift on you now.”

She moans, grasping at the bed sheets. “You don’t need your gift to get me wet.”

“Oh, I know,” I snicker. “But you’re going to find release at least twice before I enter you. I’m just helping the process along.”

“Confident tonight, are we?” she smirks, breathless.

“Not confident,” I say, thrusting two fingers inside her. Her moan is a symphony of pleasure for my ears. “I just need you as relaxed as possible for what I’m going to do to you tonight.”

Her inner walls are already tightening from the effect of my power and the slow, deliberate thrust of my fingers. I curl them forward, searching for the spot I know drives her wild.

“What… what is it that you’re going to do to me tonight?” The raspy desperation in her voice has me nearly saying fuck it to my plans and taking her now.

But I’ve waited far too long for this.

“I’m going to give you the one thing we’ve been dancing around for months—the thing you’re too afraid to ask for.”

Alarm flashes in her eyes, her body tensing beneath me.

“None of that,” I murmur, softening my strokes. “Relax, little demon. I’m going to give you pleasure you’ve never felt before, but I need you loose.”

I take her nipple into my mouth, giving it a soft nip. Her hips buck, rubbing against my palm.

Everything about this female is divine.

My hips roll against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.

I thrust my fingers in and out, curling them deep inside her, my thumb gently circling her clit.

She gasps my name, her body shaking below me. Her orgasm hits fast and hard, her back arching, eyes rolling back as she falls apart in my arms.

Pure male satisfaction washes through me at the sight of her lost to bliss at my hands.