Page 47 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I lurched back to consciousness with a crick in my neck. My legs were freezing, but my entire right side was deliciously warm.

And slightly damp. I blinked my eyes open, and saw mussed blond hair pressed against my shoulder.

Stars glittered overhead. Pale lights streaked across the ceiling—aqua blue, seafoam green, deep purple. The Northern Lights.

Fuck. I was still in the Star Room. Marius’s face was buried in my shoulder.

From his position, it looked as if he’d sat a respectable distance away, then fallen asleep and tipped over until he planted against me.

His body was at an odd angle, legs splayed out to the side. When he woke, he was sure to be sore.

Was it morning? Was I late for work? Would the false sky above reflect the time of day? The only windows were down the hall, in the study.

I shook Marius’s shoulder. “Wake up,” I pleaded, relieved when he opened his eyes.

“What? What?” He shot up, glancing wildly around the room.

“We fell asleep,” I hissed, unable to keep the panic from my voice .

“Oh,” he said, blinking heavily, pawing blond hair from his face. “So we did.”

“I have to work!” I snapped, hoping he’d grasp the gravity of the situation. Princes and princesses could sleep in, but maids could lose their jobs for doing the same. And if I lost my job, there was a good chance I’d be cast out of the city, and we’d never see each other again.

His jaw stretched in a yawn. “Is it morning?”

I swallowed down a frustrated groan, and said, “I’ve no idea!”

He was on his feet and down the hall before I’d even managed to stand. My leg had fallen asleep, and I limped on pins and needles. My charmed hairpin was loose, threatening to fall to the floor—I quickly adjusted it.

“Good news!” he called. The words echoed down the long hallway. “It’s still dark.”

Knees weak with relief, I sank back to the floor. “Thank goodness.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said, emerging from the study. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I said, thinking of the way he’d felt pressed up against me, mourning that I didn’t have a chance to enjoy it. “I should go.”

He nodded. His features were still soft from sleep, and his hair was mashed flat on one side. My fingers itched to caress him, to feel the planes of his face beneath my hand, to pull those wayward strands back into place.

Not for me. Never for me.

Still, I lingered there.

He looked at me and uttered a little laugh. “Go on,” he said, gesturing for the door. “Unless you’d like me to come with you?”

A thousand times yes. And yet, I couldn’t seem to speak the words. Nor could I walk away. Longing burned in my heart, hot and pulsing.

To say nothing of other places .

I don’t know who moved first, if I lunged for him, or if he reached for me.

All I knew was that suddenly I was crushed against him, my hands in his hair, his arms around me, squeezing tight.

Our mouths clashed, and my lips parted in a gasp.

I moaned as our tongues met, as his fingers tangled in my hair, rings tugging at the strands.

I melted against him, clutching at the back of his shirt for purchase. He hissed as my nails dragged over his spine. “Talina,” he mumbled, pulling free for a single breath, and then we were devouring each other, a mess of clutching hands and heat and mouths.

The wall met my back, and Marius pressed me against it, his hand dipping lower. When it reached my hip, he pulled me against him. I moaned, loud enough to make the stars overhead blush. He responded by nipping at my lip.

Normally, I hated that, but there was no blood, no real pain. A thrill ran through me. I kissed him with fervor, and bit him back, teasing a surprised gasp from him. He pulled away, wiped at his mouth, now red and swollen, and grinned at me. “I didn’t expect that .”

“You should adjust your expectations,” I panted, tracing my fingers along his shoulder blades, admiring the firm muscle there.

“Clearly,” he said, an impish tilt to his lips.

Heat pooled in my stomach, traveled to the apex of my thighs.

I wanted him. Wanted that darkness, that strange intensity that lurked within him.

I wanted all of it, and I wanted it directed at me—his uncouth mouth, his decorated hands, even his filthy, cursed ring.

Illness, weakness—it didn’t matter. In that moment, I forgot even his impending marriage to my sister.

It was just the two of us, tangled together beneath the Northern Lights, hearts beating frantically, bodies flush.

His arousal pressed into my core, insistent even as he paused to gasp, “Ah, sorry?—”

“Don’t be.” My hand slipped between us, grasping his length through the cloth.

A loud, startled moan escaped him. The kiss turned frantic as I pulled my hand free, tried to climb into his arms and wrap my legs around him.

My hands found his shoulders, taut and strong.

Sick or not, he’d trained often with a blade, and I felt the evidence of that as his muscles shifted.

He scrambled to hoist me up, gripping my thighs, then my buttocks.

One hand snaked beneath my skirts, squeezing at the flesh there, pausing at the hem of my knickers.

I nibbled on his lip. Fingers clenched around me.

Slipped beneath the lace, and climbed until they brushed against my molten core and the wetness there.

He made a sound halfway between a purr and a laugh, and I ground against him, gasping when his finger slipped between folds, traveling high, rubbing a circle exactly where I wanted him to.

The sound that escaped me was nearly a squeal, and he drew back, pressing kisses to my jaw, and down my throat. “How do you want to do this?” he murmured, breath hot against my skin. “Is this?—”

“How do you want me?” I demanded, impatient. My breaths came in harsh little gasps as I writhed against his fingers. Sparks gathered at the base of my stomach and shot upwards like a hail of arrows.

There are far too many clothes between us , I thought, but I was too distracted by his mouth and hands to do much about it. If I backed away to yank at his shirt, he’d stop, even if for a moment, and I didn’t want that.

“Any ways. All ways,” he said, lips dragging over the most delicate parts of my throat.

I could not suppress a shudder and a gasp as he sucked a bruise against my neck, slow and sensual.

I clenched my legs around him, tangled my hand in his long, blond hair, and tugged just hard enough to get his attention.

“No marks,” I choked, even though I didn’t want him to stop. His mouth was unbearably warm against the sensitive skin of my neck, just below my ear. “I can’t?—”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry?— ”

“Don’t be,” I hissed as his finger breached my core, delving deep inside, crooking in a way that made me writhe against him. Heat shot through me, puddling between my legs. “Just fuck me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I cried, throwing my head back with too much excitement—my skull cracked against the wall, and I yelped in pain.

I was immediately set on my feet, then wrapped in Marius’s warm embrace. “Are you alright?” Without waiting for an answer, he began parting my hair, searching for blood or bruising.

“I’m fine, it’s alright,” I panted, even as the bruise throbbed in time with my most intimate parts.

“That sounded like it hurt,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” I said, rising on my toes to place my lips against his, terrified he’d change his mind now that I’d managed to injure myself, afraid that one smack of my head would bring him back to that drab reality where Ria was his future bride, and I was just her lowly servant. “Let’s go.”

“If you’re certain,” he said, gaze caught somewhere between wary and ravenous.

“More than ever,” I said, clasping his hand in mine, dragging the pad of my finger over his wrist, eliciting a shiver and a bright-eyed glance.

With the fever of the moment diminished, I realized very quickly that there was nowhere comfortable to lie with him.

But that didn’t much matter when Marius’s lips met mine.

One hand caressed my lower back. The other cupped my breast, cradling the weight of it in his palm.

A thumb dragged over my nipple, and I couldn’t help the way I gasped, clutched at him, intensifying the kiss until I thought I’d fuse to him.

With a chuckle, Marius started walking us in the direction of the altar, the hard lines of his body pressing against mine. When I saw where we were going, I broke free, and said, “Not there. ”

“Why not?” he asked, eyes half-lidded, head cocked in curiosity.

“Isn’t it sacred?”

“Ah.” An eyebrow lifted. “Not in the sense that you’re thinking. For this lifetime, it’s mine to use as I please. Visions, death, sex.” He shot me a playful smirk.

“People have died on it,” I said, resolve weakening. I wanted him now , and if the altar was the best option, well… Maybe it would be worth it. Maybe Marius would find it empowering. A way of reclaiming a place of death and gloom for himself. But I didn’t like it.

“It’s been cleaned,” he added, as if reading my thoughts. His hand stilled on my hip, rested there, a reminder and a promise all at once.

“That’s hardly reassuring.”

“Fine,” he groaned, taking a step back to better survey the room. I immediately missed his touch. “You’re right. Where do you propose?—”

I kissed him again. “Anywhere,” I mumbled into his lips, and he gave a curt nod before gently extricating himself from my embrace.

At once, his cloak was spread across the floor, and I was scooped off my feet, laughing and kicking as he deposited me onto the fabric.

The stone beneath me was hard and cold, the cloak a weak barrier.

But I didn’t mind, pleased with the way his gaze raked over me, hungry and wanting.

“You said anywhere,” he reminded me, a teasing grin on his kiss-swollen lips. He crouched before me, and my heart flipped.