Page 49

His stride was purposeful as he carried me into the fortress.

Each point of contact sent a fresh wave of desire pulsing through me, and his grip only tightened.

The staff either fled our presence or pretended not to see us.

Fine by me. My brain was consumed by the memory of what it felt like to have him inside me, how the magic had magnified until I was certain we’d both die from the glorious overload.

Halfway up the spiral staircase of Kazimir’s tower, he pressed me against the cold stone wall and kissed me until I almost forgot my own name.

I felt him tug at his belt. His tunic fell away as I wrapped my legs around his waist, not caring about the precarious angle of our bodies on the narrow steps.

“I can’t wait,” he rasped, voice low enough to stroke pleasure through my nerves.

I braced my hands on his shoulders. “Then don’t.”

He thrust into me with no further warning, forcing a cry from my throat that echoed up the narrow stairwell.

Electricity practically sparked where our skin met, gold meeting black in a dance of energy.

The tower quivered, dust raining down around us.

Kazimir gave a dark laugh, his breath hot against my neck.

“We’ll bring the entire citadel down,” he muttered, driving into me again.

I tried to respond, but he followed with a powerful thrust that made stars burst behind my eyelids. Conversation ceased. There was only the frantic sound of our breathing, the echo of flesh against flesh, and the building wave of raw power that crackled through every thrust.

When we both reached the brink, Kazimir clamped his jaw, redirecting the raging magic upward. I felt the tower’s wards flare to life, absorbing much of the chaos we unleashed as first I spilled over the edge, and he followed. The pressure in the air was deafening for a moment, but the walls held.

He remained pressed against me, panting, as my ears rang with our combined pulse. “That was easier,” he said raggedly. “Maybe the fortress will survive the two of us after all.”

Instead of putting me down, he adjusted my weight in his arms and continued upward. I clung to him, a dizzy swirl of satisfaction and leftover arousal tangling in my head.

When we finally reached the top, Kazimir shouldered the heavy door open to carry me across the threshold like some dark parody of a traditional wedding night. His eyes never left mine as he kicked the door shut behind us.

When he turned, though, his confident stride faltered at the carnage that had been his bedchamber. Feathers lay strewn over the floor in snowdrifts, glass shards sparkled on the fireplace mantel, and half-wilted black roses drooped from shattered vases.

“What happened here?” he asked, mildly astonished.

Heat suffused my face. “I might have… had a tantrum after you left me. It was a low moment.”

Expressing no judgment, he set me on my feet and locked the door. Then he turned to me, pulling open my shirt and letting it slide to the ground. “Every second I was gone, I could think of nothing but the taste of you.”

He lifted me onto the bed, sending a puff of feathers swirling into the air. “How wet you’d be for me,” he continued, his voice dropping to a ragged whisper as he shed his own remaining clothes, never taking his eyes from mine.

Kazimir lowered himself beside me. His hand slid between my breasts to brush away a feather, then continued up to grip my throat possessively. “The sounds you’d make when I finally buried myself inside you.”

His lips brushed mine in a kiss, surprisingly gentle compared to the urgency of his words.

“Slowly this time,” he said. “I want to learn every inch of you.”

And he did. Over the next hours, he mapped my body with meticulous attention, discovering places I hadn’t known could bring pleasure, never losing that edge of possessiveness, but allowing me to meet him as an equal.

I returned the favor, continuing my exploration of his runes, learning which ones made him tense and which made him hiss in pleasure.

“These never bothered you,” he said during a moment when we were relatively still. It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.

“Why would they? They’re part of you.” I traced the one over his breastbone. “You never told me how you got them.”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the bedchamber. “My mother carved them into my bones when I was a child,” he said finally, his voice carefully neutral.

My hand stilled, and I sat up to look at him properly. “That’s... that’s barbaric.”

He shrugged, the casual gesture at odds with the darkness in his eyes. “It was necessary, according to her. Magic requires sacrifice.”

“No child should have to sacrifice like that,” I said fiercely, thinking of my own childhood, of the tower and the isolation and the fear. It had been cruel, yes, but at least my father hadn’t carved spells into my flesh.

Kazimir’s hand covered mine, pressing it more firmly against his chest. “It made me what I am. I don’t regret it.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I didn’t press the issue.

There was a normal-looking scar on his shoulder that had no symbolism that I could see. “What’s this from?”

“First conquest of a military outpost,” he said with casual pride. “I was leading a small band of mercenaries I’d convinced to follow me.” He shrugged. “But that was early days.”

“You couldn’t possibly have done all those things they say,” I mused, tracing it. “Not unless you started terrorizing the Western Realms as a child.”

A dark pride flickered in his eyes. “I was fifteen when I killed my first general. Seventeen when I raised my first army.” His voice was matter-of-fact, as though reciting a shopping list. “By twenty, lords twice my age were bending the knee or fleeing their castles at rumors of my approach.”

“That’s impossible,” I said, though the certainty in his voice gave me pause. “Even the greatest warlords take decades to build such power.”

His lips curved into that familiar smirk.

“Most warlords don’t have magic carved into their bones before they’re old enough to shave.

” He guided my fingers to a particularly intricate pattern on his chest. “This one accelerates thought. This one enhances perception. Together, they let me see patterns in warfare that others miss even after lifetimes of study. As though warfare was a language I was born speaking.”

I studied his face, the lack of lines around his eyes, the smoothness beneath the shadow of his beard.

“How old are you really, then?” I asked, curiosity finally getting the better of me. “They speak of the Dark Lord as though you’ve terrorized the realm for generations.”

A smile played on his lips. “Reputation is a curious thing. The more they fear you, the longer they’ve feared you. At least in tavern tales.” He stretched and sat up, the firelight catching the network of scars across his torso. “I’m thirty-three. Though most days I feel considerably older.”

Something about his explanation nagged at me. It made perfect sense, and yet... There was something ancient in his eyes sometimes, something that didn’t match the relatively young man before me.

“What?” he asked, noticing my hesitation.

“Nothing,” I said, pushing the thought away. “Just trying to imagine you as a teenage warlord.”

His smile turned wicked. “I assure you, I’ve always been very good at what I do.”

Kazimir proved his point several times over the next hour, each touch more skilled than the last. When our bodies finally stilled, a pleasant exhaustion settled into my limbs.

He rolled away, and I made a small sound of protest at the loss of his warmth.

Kazimir chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of sweat-dampened hair behind my ear.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

“Nothing,” he said, his expression softening. “Just... this isn’t how I expected things to go when I kidnapped you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Disappointed?”

“Hardly.” His hand trailed down my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Before I could respond, he was rising from the bed. I watched him go, admiring the lean strength of his body, the confident way he carried himself even naked.

“What? No cuddles?” I called after him, only half-joking.

He paused halfway to the bathing chamber. “Is that something you want?”

I shrugged, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Maybe. Sometimes.”

Kazimir studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he returned to the bed, drawing me into his chest so we lay entwined among the feathers. They stuck to everything at this point, but neither of us cared.

“Better?” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair.

I nestled closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. “Much.”