Page 9 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame (Heir of Wyvara #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

VARIDIAN

I found it immeasurably hilarious that my asshole father arranged my marriage to a woman capable of killing me. He probably thought news would spread tomorrow that I’d been found dead in my marriage bed, likely of a collapsed heart. Instead, my beautiful killer splayed across my bed, stretching like a sated wild cat, her eyes sultry and a smile on her face that made me painfully hard.

I meant what I said though; we’d take this slow and get to know each other. I never planned to let Ameirah go, so there was no rush. And if not rushing happened to involve me feasting on her pussy a dozen more times, well… all in the interests of tending our blossoming marriage.

I traced patterns on her thighs, pretty satisfied with myself when my wife’s eyes fluttered shut, pleasure in the delicate lines of her face.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I murmured, kissing the ridge of her hip bone before I slid off her body, pausing a moment at the foot of the bed to look at her, languid and sated, her legs parted, pussy glistening with nectar I would kill to taste again. The sight of her had me biting back a groan, a dark satisfaction unwinding through my chest. She was in my bed, her arousal on my sheets, her taste in my mouth. My wife. All fucking mine.

I had to physically drag myself away, approaching the dresser where a basin of water had been set out next to several cloths awaiting this exact purpose.

Ameirah was so pliant she only murmured when I widened her thighs and ran the soft cloth over her.

“It’s cold, I’m afraid.” I kissed the curve of her stomach in apology. “I’ll make sure it’s warm next time.”

“Next time,” she said with a little smile, her eyes slitting open.

“I never want your taste to leave my tongue,” I confessed, more than a little mesmerised by the sight of her pussy as I cleaned her. “I’m tempted to make you come again, just for another taste.”

“Varidian,” she hissed.

I jumped, startled into laughter when a brocade pillow hit my head. I caught it before it could tumble off the bed and narrowed my eyes playfully. “That’s the thanks I get for giving you release? Assaulted by my own wife.”

“Assaulted by a pillow,” she drawled, making my gut tighten, my cock jolting beneath layers of fabric. Fuck, I loved it when she sharpened her tongue and got that look in her eyes. I might love her already, but that was madness. “Are you going to give me what I asked for?”

It took a moment for me to remember. I pressed a fist to my mouth.

You know exactly what I want, Varidian. Keep your mouth shut and fuck me.

I was so busy composing myself that the light brush of fingertips over my cock made my whole body jump. “Ameirah,” I bit out, catching her wrist.

Oh shit. She squeezed my cock, unrepentant. My eyes nearly fucking crossed.

“You,” I panted, “are dangerous.”

Her smile was every bit as lethal as her touch. I pulled her hand away, brushing a kiss over her palm. “Next time,” I promised.

“You’re set on drawing my blood another way, are you?”

“I am.”

She was less irritated now, the orgasm making her surly instead of ready to cut my throat. A little thrill went through me at the memory of my wife holding a knife to my throat. I hadn’t known what to expect of Falael Jaouhari’s daughter, but I certainly wasn’t ready for deadly scowls, stubbornness, a tongue both cutting and seductive, and a readiness to draw a weapon. I’d braced myself for a woman who was terrified of me thanks to the smear campaigns printed in every newspaper in the kingdom. Ameirah certainly wasn’t terrified.

“Idiot,” she muttered, but fluttered her arm in my direction. “Make it shallow; those wounds bleed more.”

“I’m the commander of a legion,” I drawled, crossing the room for the knife she’d almost cut my throat with. “Are you telling me how best to make a wound?”

She shrugged lazily. “You might need advice.”

A laugh burst from me, making me feel light and free. “I always need the advice of beautiful, dangerous women.”

“I think you like the fact I could kill you,” she muttered, shaking her head. Her dark violet hair mussed on the pillow, making my gut burn and tighten.

No, I warned myself. Take it slow, take your time, ignore the boiling need in your cock. We had our entire lives to explore each other, and I was content with the taste of her on my tongue, but my dick was not on board with that plan. It remembered the feel of her hands squeezing it and begged for more.

“I told you,” I murmured, wrapping my hand around Ameirah’s forearm, stroking soft skin with my thumb. “I’d hate to be bored.”

“Something tells me life with you won’t be boring either, husband,” she replied, her voice a low purr.

Shit, she knew how that word affected me. She was playing dirty. I clenched my jaw so I didn’t beg her to do with me as she wished.

You are the commander of the Legion of Fyrevein, a bastard prince but a prince, nonetheless. You flew into hell and barely dragged your way out by the tips of your fingernails. You walked through fire and smoke and blackened clouds—and survived. You wage battles in the eternal war. You will not be ruled by a five-foot-nine woman with pretty eyes and a wicked smile.

She rose from the pillows she’d splayed herself across and threw her leg over my lap, sitting astride me. “You seem distracted.”

“Ameirah,” I bit out, my traitor hand rising into her hair, grabbing a generous fistful of beautiful strands. My cock ached, straining towards her, and she shifted her position until the heat of her rested over me. My stomach hollowed with a breath. “Where did you learn this art of seduction?” I asked, a little breathless. Who was I kidding? She ruled me so entirely I was in awe of her queenliness.

“Books mostly,” she replied with a soft laugh. Even that sound charmed me, made my heart quicken. My other hand grazed her side and then I was gripping her hip, the supple softness of her like heaven on my fingertips as I crashed my mouth into hers.

The groan she made fell across my lips and I devoured the taste of it, kissing her hard until her mouth parted on a gasp, until I could burn the taste of her into my tongue. Her hands fell on my shoulders, sending a zip of fiery need down my spine into the base of my cock when she dug her fingernails into my skin.

“If books taught you this,” I breathed, “I should fill a library with them.”

“I can show you which ones I read,” she murmured, one hand sliding into my hair, sending shivers across my scalp. “You might find them informative.”

I laughed, my eyes creasing. I did that a lot around my new wife—laughed. It felt good. Everything about her felt good. Before I could respond to that scathing remark, she kissed me, plunging her tongue into my mouth and kissing me with a ferocity that made my heart pound.

“Do it,” she gasped, dragging her mouth from mine.

“Hm?”

“Have I addled your mind, sweet husband?”

“Thoroughly,” I agreed, sliding my hand along her back beneath her white dress. I wanted to see the rest of her ceremonial dresses. I felt robbed of the sight of her in the gold and green fassiya I’d had made for her, along with half a dozen others. Her father had turned down all but the dress she wore today. I should have realised then that he was an asshole.

“You were drawing my blood to fool the… what did you call them earlier? Vultures?”

“An apt description, trust me,” I said, slashing through the haze of desire, searching the bed for wherever the knife had ended up. I didn’t even have a memory of discarding it so I could touch her. “This will sting, dearling.”

“Just get it over with,” she huffed.

“I hope you don’t speak those words when I finally take you,” I remarked with a little smirk, bowing over her arm so I could clearly see where I cut.

“Stop teasing me.”

The gruffness in her voice made my smile deepen. I made the cut fast and shallow, blood instantly running down her arm, spotting the beautiful fabric of her dress.

“The black sheets seem like an oversight,” she commented.

“Yes, thank you, I realised that.”

She snorted, and if I hadn’t known the cut must be stinging like crazy by now, I wouldn’t have thought she’d been in pain. That was worrisome; my wife was able to mask her pain. I pressed a hard kiss to her temple and slid her off me, getting a clean cloth.

“Keep this pressed to the cut,” I told her, pressing it to her arm. I’d cut high enough that it would be easy to hide, the slice close to the crook of her elbow. “When the blood stops, I’ll bind it. You’ll have to keep it hidden, or the rumour mill will go into overproduction.”

Her eyes sparkled despite the pain. She was enjoying this. “What vivid imagery. What does the rumour mill produce?”

“Horseshit mostly.”

Her laugh was sweeter than any music. I kissed her cheek, letting my mouth linger, soaking up her warmth, her floral scent. “Tomorrow, I’d like to meet your wyvern. Introduce them to Makrukh. He’s grumpy with new people, but he’s a sweetheart deep down.”

Ameirah pulled away from me with a laugh so low and bitter it hit me like a slap, jarring. “What wyvern?”

“Your wyvern…” I frowned, the light feeling in my chest turning to lead. I didn’t like the way she put distance between us, didn’t like the tight, guarded expression that replaced her amusement.

“An abomination like me isn’t permitted to bond with a wyvern.”

Now I was the one rocking back, her words hitting me like a spiked tail to the chest. “That’s… barbaric,” I breathed, horror twisting my stomach, making me sick. “Ameirah…” I whispered, staring at her, dragging my hand over my jaw. “What age did you manifest power?”

“Seven,” she answered in an emotionless voice. It was so flat I knew she must have a tempest of feelings beneath that mask. I pulled her back against me, clutching her to my chest, the shock beginning to give way to fury.

“Seven,” I repeated, a tremor of rage going through me, shaking my hands where they clutched her. “Seven? You should have bonded instantly! The magic could have killed you. Without a bond, it still could.”

It was why wyvern and fae were so dependent on each other. Without the bond, magic would burn up a person from the inside out, overwhelming both mind and body until the fae either went mad or erupted in a storm of magic, leaving nothing behind. Magic flowed through the bond between wyvern and rider, easing the weight, and with the excess power wyvern were able to heal themselves, ride faster than light, breathe fire, and accomplish feats of immense strength. To have no wyvern for eighteen years…

“Fuck, Ameirah, how are you alive?”

She shrugged. “No wyvern would have me. I suppose my body found a way to bear this magic without one.”

I could only stare at her for a moment, furious and sad and frightened. She could be dead tomorrow, her magic overcoming her in a split second. “With your power, any wyvern would fight to the death for the honour of bonding you.”

Vulnerability entered her eyes for a moment before she shrugged, pulling out of the circle of my arms, lifting the cloth from her arm to inspect the cut. “Where’s my room? I want to sleep.”

“This is your room. Our room.”

She scoffed, sliding off the bed, the skirt of her dress falling over her golden legs, hiding them from view. Probably for the best if I wanted to think straight.

“Ameirah,” I warned as she strode across the room, walking purposefully to the door. “Get over here and sleep.”

She didn’t. My stubborn, wilful wife flung open the door, walking stiffly into the hallway, and slammed the door behind herself.