Page 51 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

I drop next to her in bed, pulling her body into mine. Her curves fit perfectly against me, molding to every hard plane of my body.

Perfect.

She’s absolutely and unequivocally breathtakingly perfect.

The afterglow takes hold of my tongue, the words flying from my mouth before I even register them, “I never hated you.”

Breyla shifts onto her back, my arm still slung around her waist, so she can look me in the eyes. She studies my face, worrying her bottom lip as she assesses what she sees. “You already said that. Though I find it hard to believe, given our history, I trust you’re telling the truth.”

“I know,” I say, my heart soaring at her trust in me restored. “But it bears repeating. I have never, could never, hate you. All the harsh words of our past, cruel tricks and insults?—”

“Hey, some of those tricks were highly entertaining. Especially the time when I was the cause of your three-month dry spell,” she cuts in, and I slap a hand over her wicked mouth.

“It was six months,” I growl. “And you’ve been the cause of my pent-up… frustration for much, much longer, little demon.”

She gives me a look like she wants to say something, but I refuse to move my hand, needing to get these words out.

“As I was saying… when you blossomed into adulthood, the pull I felt toward you grew unbearable. Everything I did to push you away, every time I hurt you or insulted you, it was all because I was trying to protect myself, and you, if I’m being honest.”

Her auburn brow lifts, urging me to explain.

“I knew I couldn’t be with you, but I couldn’t stand being in your presence, not having you.

Your father would have killed me for the things I thought about you.

It wouldn’t have mattered that you were an adult.

The male would have skinned me alive and left me as an offering to the gods. ”

She licks my palm, grinning in victory when I finally pull my hand from her mouth.

“Did you have something to say, brat?” I drawl.

“I did, actually.” She smirks. “I wouldn’t have let him skin you alive.”

“No,” I argue, “You would have helped him.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Yes.” I chuckle. “You were.”

“Whatever,” she mutters. “I was going to ask if that’s why you told him that I was the problem.”

My brows furrow, trying to recall what she’s referring to. “What do you mean?”

“When I was perhaps fifteen or sixteen, I overheard a conversation you had with my father,” she explains. “He asked why you let me get under your skin and why there couldn’t be peace between us…”

I had many conversations with Raynor regarding Breyla over the years, but this one comes rushing back with clarity. A long sigh escapes me as I finish her story, “And I said you were the problem.”

She nods, the corners of her lips turning down. I see the hurt lingering in her gaze, and it feels like a punch to the solar plexus. Seeing her hurt by something I said makes it difficult to breathe. I never want to see that look on her again.

“How long have you been holding onto that, Breyla?”

Her green eyes break from mine, looking toward the ceiling.

Gripping her chin, I turn her attention back to me and demand, “How long?”

With a heavy sigh, she admits, “Only like ten years.” A half-hearted laugh escapes her lips, but the joke lands flat.

My fingers stroke her cheek as I whisper, “I am so very sorry that my words hurt you like that. I had no idea you were carrying that for as long as you have.”

“It’s okay, Aurelius,” she says, trying to shrug me off. “Really, I’m over it.”

“But it’s not okay,” I insist. “I didn’t realize you were listening that day, but that’s no excuse. They were thoughtless, cruel words that aren’t the full truth.”

“How so?”

“I hadn’t noticed you in that way, yet. But I still felt this force between us that drove me mad.

Like I was somehow being both pushed and pulled whenever I was in your orbit.

You were so damn bratty at that age, I just couldn’t process it all.

So while you were part of the problem, the real problem was me.

The lack of understanding I had about how I was feeling.

Instead of facing that, I ran. I avoided you, pushed you away, and made you hurt instead. ”

“So that’s why you volunteered for the position of Royal Emissary, why you were gone so often.”

“Yes, Breyla. It was all because of you. But hear me now, you were never the problem.”

She nods in understanding, the hurt finally receding from her eyes, and I feel like I can breathe again.

“So what is it that you were feeling?” she asks timidly, like she’s afraid of my answer.

“You, Breyla,” I breathe. “It has always been you.”

She lets her actions speak for her, crashing her mouth into mine. The kiss is somehow both tender and scorching, every emotion threaded into the way her lips move with mine.

I push her back, running a hand down her side to grip her hip. When I kiss a trail along her neck, taking special care to lavish my tongue over the mark, she mewls. Her hips lift, undulating against me in a desperate plea.

“I should return the favor for the years you spent tormenting me,” I murmur against her neck as my fingers trace the skin of her inner thigh.

Goddess, how I loved these thighs. How I would spend all day between them.

“Hm?” she hums, her hand searching for my cock.

When she grasps it, I groan, already aching and ready to sink into her heat.

“How would you do that?” she asks, stroking her hand up and down my length, twisting as she goes.

“I would build you up just until you reached the precipice of orgasm and stop,” I groan when she fondles my balls, precum leaking from the tip. “And I would do it over and over until you were begging for relief.”

Her eyes sparkle, the interest undeniable in the way her gaze heats.

I had edged her before. Nothing like I was describing, though. “I would spend hours,” I say, slipping two fingers inside her wet heat. “Working you up just to watch you squirm as I withheld your release.”

When I curl my fingers forward, her back lifts from the bed, my name a breathy plea on her lips.

Slowly, I circle my thumb around her clit. Just enough to work her up, but not enough to push her over the edge.

She pumps my cock faster, and I grin. “No, princess. That’s not how this game is played,” I say, stretching her arms above her head.

Rather than hold them in place, because I need both hands for what I plan to do to her, I activate my Hemonia Gift, using it to keep her hands immobile.

“When I take you this time, it will be slowly,” I whisper in her ear, nipping it as I move away.

“Sadistic bastard,” she mutters.

I smirk, slipping my fingers out of her to land a sharp smack to her bare pussy. The moan that spills from her lips confirms my theory. “And that makes you a masochist, my sweet little demon,” I chuckle, taking her peaked nipple into my mouth and biting down hard enough to sting.

“Aurelius, please,” she whines, rolling her hips against my hand.

I align myself with her center, coating my length in her wetness. Always so ready for me.

“Say it again,” I demand, notching my tip at her entrance.

“Aurelius,” she breathes, need heavy in her tone. “Please. I need you.”

“I need you too badly to stretch this out. We’ll play that game later,” I promise.

When I slip inside her, it’s exactly as I promised.

Slow and reverent.

Between each drawn-out thrust, I murmur the words, “It was you.”

Thrust.

“From the beginning.”

Thrust.

“Through the darkest times.”

Thrust.

“My whole life.”

Thrust.

“It’s always been you.”

I take her so slowly it almost hurts, worshipping every part of her my lips can reach.

When we find release—it’s together.

Several moments pass before she finally breaks the silence.

“I really hate to ruin this,” she murmurs. “But I can’t stay. Ayden will show up at my door for training in a few hours.”

Something rattles my chest, disappointment filling me at the thought of not being able to hold her all night.

Instead of voicing that, I say lightly, “Still keeping me our dirty little secret, Princess?”

“You know it’s not like that. I wouldn’t?—”

I silence her defensive rambling with another kiss. “I know, Breyla. I was teasing you.”

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Who are you and what have you done with my Aurelius?”

Warmth spreads through my chest at her words. “ Your Aurelius?” I echo, a slow grin tugging at my mouth.

She smiles widely, a rosy blush blooming across her cheeks. “Yes. My Aurelius.”

“I like the way that sounds.” I pepper her throat with soft kisses, taking particular satisfaction in seeing the mark of my teeth still on her skin.

It’s already begun to darken into a deep purple, and gods help me, I admire how it looks on her.

She hisses softly, tender beneath my mouth. “Am I going to have to hide that?”

“Unless you want to piss off the prince,” I smirk. “Which I’m not entirely against.”

She rolls her eyes, an act that, on another day, might have landed her over my knee. As it is, I probably deserve that one.

“I need to go,” she says, softer now. “Before the rest of the castle wakes for breakfast.”

With a heavy sigh, I pull away, the loss of her warmth like a knife to the ribs.

I reach for the wet cloth again and clean my mess from between her thighs. Seeing my seed wiped away instead of buried deep inside her womb fills me with a disappointment I dare not voice.

Once she’s redressed, swallowed again by the poor excuse for a nightgown and robe, I wrap her in my arms.

“Let me hold you for just a minute longer,” I nearly beg when she starts to squirm.

Laughing softly, she pushes me back. “I need to go.”

“Make me a promise before you go,” I blurt, catching her by the hip and pulling her tight against me again.

She raises one brow while cocking her head in curiosity.

“Promise me more stolen moments,” I say, tipping her face up to mine with a gentle pinch of her chin. “I can’t have you the way I want... so promise me more moments like this. Until we can get you out of this engagement.”

My fingers stroke her cheek tenderly while I wait on bated breath for her answer.

When it finally comes, the tightness in my chest dissipates.

“Like we’ve ever been able to stay away from one another,” she whispers. “All my stolen moments are yours, Aurelius.”

I kiss her once more before leading her to the door.

When I open it, all I can do is stare in horror.

Well, fuck.