Page 38

twenty-seven

Castles in the Air

T he heady smell of sex, sweat, and bergamot filled the room. Heather’s stomach rumbled. Skye broke their lip lock and pulled a stray damp hair from her face.

“My sweet, ye must eat.” He bent and placed a delicate kiss on her bare shoulder. She was in a groggy haze, her eyes fluttered open, then closed, a small, satisfied smile curling her lips. Her eyelids felt as if they weighed a ton. Skye lowered and pressed a kiss to them, one after the other.

“I won’t fuck ye again until ye eat something.

” He growled, half in jest. A sexy smirk lit his face.

Heather only giggled deliriously in response.

How long had they been in bed? She was having difficulty remembering.

Her body ached most satisfactorily. Skye made her see stars more than she cared to count.

She remembered the light shining weakly through the milky membrane of their cocoon, shifting at least twice.

They had slipped into darkness while their bodies entwined in carnal bliss, the hours, then days, slipping away.

By her calculations, they had been ensconced for the better of three days.

Skye summoned his magick, and a bowl of ripe grapes appeared. He plucked up a grape betwixt long fingers and held it to her lips. Heather pulled the fruit into her mouth while running her tongue along his fingertips. Causing Skye to growl low.

“Eat.” He commanded. He playfully swatted her backside. The tingle of touch letting her know he left a glow mark in its wake.

He sat up, his wings spread out over her like a blanket tent.

He flapped gently, creating an artificial breeze, washing over her in cool relief.

She appreciated the effort, for she was overheated, but not from the temperature of the room.

One glance at his sculpted body and she would melt anew.

He kissed her collarbone and fed her another grape.

His lips trailed down the side of her neck, while feeding her more.

He captured the round globes of her breasts, cupping them and caressing his thumb over her taut nipple.

Light laughter escaped her, mid chew. They were slipping back into dangerous territory.

As they had been doing for days now. How was she to eat anything of substance if he persisted in distracting her?

He placed a grape in the conclave of her navel before sinking to his knees, grinning up at her like the fanged devil he was.

“I think I’ll also have another snack.” He lathed up the grape with his wet tongue, then gripped hold of each of her thighs, spreading them wide with his hands propped behind her knees.

She laughed, drew in a deep breath, and arched her back from the heady contact as his tongue danced over her taunt bud.

Before latching onto the sensitive flesh and sucking unmercifully.

“How am I supposed to eat while you continue to be so distracting?” She managed to ask between moans. His tongue swirled over her slit, then returned to the apex of her thighs. Her eyes shut, lost to the sensations.

Half a chime later, Skye stood and pulled her from bed. Heather moaned disagreeably, not desiring to vacate the warmth of their cocoon. He waved a hand, and the soft encasing dissolved, granting them passage out.

A loud knock resounded through the chamber, drawing Skye’s ire. The male hissed at it as if it were a worthy opponent.

Ella cleared her throat beyond the closed door. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting, Mr. Ashwoode- Mr. Rhoden is here insisting to see ye. I tried turning him away. I made him aware that the hibernation period is well underway. Yet he persists.”

Skye glared at the entry. Heather noticed the tell-tale sign of his green eyes shifting to black as his instincts to protect his heart bonded overpowered his better judgment.

He hissed at the slab of wood, then turned his back to it, gathering Heather gently into a familiar bridal hold.

She clutched the silky white sheet to her chest, drawing it with her.

After three days, she did not have her usual strength.

Heather peered over his shoulders and sputtered, “Could it be something of utmost importance?” She worried her lip, considering if there was new information concerning her friend.

Skye didn’t deign to reply, but his bergamot scent flooded her senses.

The worry drifted from her mind as the aroma sunk into her being.

Heather lay draped, exhausted, in Skye’s arms as he carried her into the lavish bathing chamber.

The water in the tub was already rising, the heat steaming up the room in a fine mist. The blooms on the vine lining the walls twitched minutely, the flowerets spreading out wide.

She loosened her hold on the sheet, letting it slip from her body to the floor.

Skye walked them right down into the warm waters of the shell bath.

She couldn’t believe it. All fantasies of Skye joining her here were coming to fruition.

The junction of her thighs was once again thrumming.

It was apparent she could not get enough of the male.

Even after three days. The soothing waters were enveloping and a sigh broke from her lips, her eyes hooded with exhaustion.

She forced herself to work through the drowsiness desiring to see his narrow, chiseled waist in the clear water.

She was partially buoyant, Skye’s hands assisting her afloat, his attention captivated by his heart mate.

He ran his glowing green palms up her svelte arms, wringing the knots out of her tired limbs, working his way up to her shoulders.

His touch glorious. Next, he gathered her long locks into his palm, as soaked her hair before he worked a bergamot scented cleanser through the knotted tresses.

She was sure their vigorous love making had not been kind to her hair or the rest of her.

She was able to crack her eyes open for a quick peek at her torso, as her skin glinted sage under the surface.

She spied numerous marks left from Skye’s occasional love bites.

The shiny green kisses causing her smile to herself over the possessive feralness of the male now gently cleaning every inch of her.

Of course, he’d want to mark her as his, and she wanted to be known as his and he hers.

Was there a way for her to mark him as such?

She mused as she drifted in the suds. She opened her eyes, searching the column of his throat for the mark she attempted to leave there. At last, she spotted a faint shadow.

Skye’s eyes traveled across her body, taking his own accounting. He grimaced. “Have I been too rough for ye, human?” He teased. A fresh wave of bergamot seeped free, relieving her sore muscles of pain.

She shook her head. “You did no such thing, Skye.”

Skye spoke low. “I get carried away with ye…It’s just that… ye have me moonstruck and even so, ye love me as the moon intended, constant through the night.” Heather’s eyes fluttered closed, entranced by the movement of his hands in her hair.

He bent over her, placing a kiss on her nose and then her lips. “Are ye sure, Moonbeam?” She reached up and clasped him by the neck she was so enamored with and locked her lips with his in an upside-down kiss. She broke the connection before they were consumed.

“I cross my heart and promise too.” whispered Heather. His eyes captured hers, as if seeking the true answer within. At last, satisfied with her response, he straightened his back. “Let me rinse your hair.”

Hair free of cleanser, Heather swam over to the rim of the pool.

She lathered the goat milk soap and returned to Skye.

She was going to take her precious sweet time, drenching him with suds.

She thought she had memorized every part of his form over the previous days.

She spread the soap down the strong column of his neck, his broad shoulders and the base of his wings, down to the dimples above his narrow hips.

She may have purposely brushed her chest against his spine as she bathed him.

He growled low in appreciation. She reached around, her soapy palms swiping over the cut muscle where his torso joined his hips.

She lowered even still until her right hand met the thickening considerable arousal there.

With her front now meshed against him, he hung his head as she caressed his skin.

His hips gently undulated. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him.

He relaxed, lost in the moment, and dropped his wings.

He swiftly shifted, dunked himself below the water, rose back up, pulling her against him.

His hand was tangled in her hair, his other on her ass, pushing her against the hard length of his cock.

His mouth smothered hers, his tongue delving past her lips.

He growled, “We’re going to have to wash twice. I can’t get enough of ye.”

Still standing, he pulled her down onto his length, his wings out wide behind him.

He lowered her upper half till it met the surface.

Where she floated, supported by him, as he thrust into her.

Their tranquil bath became a contemptuous rolling tide that matched the motion of his hips.

She’d never forget this moment, the water trickling down his tall frame, droplets running from his hair, down his face, and his eyes piercing her soul.

After their additional wash, Skye rose from the bath and held his hand out to Heather, helping her up over the slippery step of the tub. He retrieved a fluffy bathing cloth and took his fine time meticulously drying her skin with it. He gestured over to the vanity chair. “Take a seat.”

She sat, avoiding her own face in the reflection of the mirror.

Not wanting to see her wet hair leeched to her head, and in a tangle.

Skye fetched a comb and worked it through her long tresses with tender hands.

He took as great of care bathing and brushing her as he did loving her.

He appeared to thrive from the feelings of satisfaction seeping from her bright heart.

She couldn’t control her never-ending smile.

She watched as he plucked the bottle of glittering bergamot from the table. He replaced the stopper with his thumb, his sage green magick refilling the glass container to its brim. “So that’s how it miraculously refills each day?” Heather huffed a laugh.

The irresistible grin was back. “I couldn’t resist my instinct to have ye smelling like mine.”

Later, they lay spread across the mattress, staring out onto the open doors of the balcony as the rain fell heavily.

A breeze blew the curtains into the room past the frames.

Skye magically lit the candles lining the mantle top and the fire in the hearth, the warm glow casting their nude forms in gilded shadows.

The stillness between them as comforting as a soft blanket.

“I love that we can be together in silence. There’s a comfort in being still like this,” whispered Skye.

Heather’s heart beat wildly. Suddenly robbed of air, she struggled to form words. “You don’t find me too quiet?”

Skye examined her face, trying to gauge her thoughts. Confusion wrinkled his brow. “Whatever do ye mean?” She seemed to be short of air. Every word was as painful as the memories.

“The king’s manservant… Uster…” She tried to draw a deeper breath. “He used to taunt me… he claimed I was ‘as quiet as a mouse.’’’ Heat rose to her cheeks in shame. Those murky feelings of never being enough continued to weigh her down.

Skye sat up and took her face between his hands. “Heather, look at me. I’ve never thought someone being quiet was a fault. I don’t know what that individual’s fixation was, but I have never had the impression of a mouse from ye, my moonbeam.”

Acceptance was a healing she never knew she needed. But it rushed her veins with adrenaline. She pulled him back down to her, kissing him gently, needing to express what his words had meant to her. They lay there, his heart beating like a metronome against her ear.

“Aster mentioned a Flower Fete, what is it?”

Skye toyed with a strand of her hair as she nestled sleepily into him, her head braced upon his upper arm.

“The seat of the Ashwoodes is the Luna moth, a creature infatuated with light. We share many qualities with the moth, not simply the form of our wings. Every year in late summer, we celebrate the Lady of the Lune, when she appears as a super moon- the flower moon - the most beautiful moon of the twelve. We revel all night in the radiance of her rosy shine.” Heather did her best to stifle a yawn, wanting to hear more.

“Speaking of the Flower Fete, there’s a surprise for ye hidden beyond your changing screen.” His words meandered to her in partial sleep. She yawned as her eyes drooped closed. She felt him lean forward and place a kiss at the crown of her head as she drifted into dreams behind shuttered eyes.