Page 230 of The Devil May Care

“Caziel Draeth Zorathiel Azmodean,” I manage not to stumble over his name even as I feel a twinge of amusement from somewhere. “Heir of the Ember Crown, Flame-marked of Crimson, Scion of the Burning Line.” His teeth nip at the skin at my collarbone. “Please make me come.”

He doesn’t need me to tell him. His mouth drops to my neck and I feel his canines press against the skin of my throat. He pulls be closer, tipping my hips a fraction of an inch as all the air punches from my lungs. He slows the pace even as I feel the very threads of reality start to unravel around me. I’m feel like a spring, coiled past the point of no return. It will take nothing to send me over. A touch, a kiss, a—

“Now, Kay Ward of the Other Realm,” I smile at the title. I’ve heard itbefore somewhere, but I can’t think where. His voice is hoarse, rasping over my nerves and I reach for the last spark of sanity to tease him one last time.

“Ann,” I reach up to wrap one palm around the curve of his horn, It’s smooth and warm under my palm, and I use it to anchor myself as I buck my hips over his, chasing my release. It’s right there. Right. There. Right… “My middle name is Ann, since we’re being…formal.”

Caziel lifts his head from my shoulder, eyes wild with something like awe. I reach up to touch his face, and the moment our skin connects, I feel it— Need. Devotion. Fear. Hope.

Guilt

A wave of emotion that isn’t mine.

“Kay Ann Ward of the Other Flame, She Who Survived the Wastes and the In-between. Embermarked by Crimson Keeper of George of the Emberpaw…” his smile is wicked, hot, it licks between my legs in a way that makes me clamp down hard on his shaft, shuddering. “Come on my cock. Now.”

And I do.

We fracture together as steam blankets both our bodies. My vision whites out, the wastes, the spring, the flame vanishing, but Caz remains. I hold onto him like a tether, as I wait to come back into my own body. His cock jerks and I feel the warmth empty deep into me, even as he presses a hand down on my abdomen. I shudder again, dragged over by the pressure one more time.

Minutes, hours, eons later, I pull back, blinking. “Was that—did you feel—?”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted. Like he can’t believe I’m here, touching him, choosing him.

I take a shaky breath. “That was…”

“Right,” he murmurs. “It felt right.”

I nod, even though I don’t understand it. Not fully. But something inside me does. Some instinct buried in flame and blood and memory. I’m not afraid. I’m not alone.

We float together in the warmth, my head resting against his chest. The glow of the fissure burns low and steady beside us, its light flickering across the rocks and steam. I can still feel the echo of what weshared—like the flame has left a piece of itself in my bones. Maybe it has.

His hand brushes over my back in slow, steady strokes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m…” I exhale, surprised by my own answer. “Yeah. I really am.”

A long pause. Then, softly, “Do you have regrets?”

I lift my head to meet his eyes.

“No. Do you?”

His thumb brushes my cheek, his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Never, Kay.”

A small, tentative smile pulls at my mouth. “You’re ridiculously good at the whole sacred lava spring thing, you know.”

That earns me a laugh—a real one, low and rough and full of warmth.

“It’s an acquired talent.”

“Passed down through generations of overly dramatic flame Princes?”

He arches a brow. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it” I snuggle in closer to the smooth warmth of his chest.

“Why not?” I can hear the amusement in his voice. “It wasn’t luck that brought you to me?”

Was it?