There was absolutely no tension in her grip – she was too weakened by pleasure for that. But I was so far gone it didn’t even matter. Her feeble, loose fist settled, like a skimming net, around my tip, each of her delicate fingers a silken thread that bound me. Trapped me.

I did not even try to escape. I drove right into that trap, wanting more of it around me, wanting her to bind me so tightly that it hurt. Caught and cornered, giving myself completely over to her fumbling grip, I came, seed exploding out of me with the force of an avalanche, a natural disaster of the body.

My groaning breath fractured as I emptied myself onto her abdomen and chest, spewing all the way up to her throat, pale blue fluid coating her skin like a claim. A map on her skin, just like mine, but this one painting the path of desire, not stars.

I pumped a few more times as my stiffness faded. I released Torrance’s hand, but she did not let go. She slicked her fingers over my head, chin dropped to her chest as she watched in what looked like fascination, rubbing her own moisture and mine over my sensitive head.

“Do you like your husband’s cock, little bride?” I rasped, the question coming out much more ragged than I’d intended.

She took a shaky breath, then withdrew her hand, as if only now becoming aware of what she’d been doing.

“We aren’t married yet,” she whispered.

I did not reply. Did not tell her that I already felt like her husband, that she was already mine in the most irrevocable way. I did not tell her that she’d come to dominate my body and my mind. That I’d thought of nothing but her while away from the castle, and that I did not just watch her sometimes upon my late returns, but that I watched her for most of the night, every night.

I did not tell her that when I’d seen Brekken’s teeth snap near her hand I’d nearly lost myself in fear. The kind of fear I hadn’t even known myself capable of. The kind of fear that should have been reserved only for mated gods, for mortals, for those who had something to lose.

But it seemed now that I did have something to lose. And when Torrance reminded me that we were not yet married, reminded me that this was all just a bargain, a sham, it felt like I’d already lost it.

I released her ankles, and her legs dropped heavily to the sides, splaying open on the furs. Exposed like this on my bed, panting and spread and coated in my seed, she was so perfect it made me hurt, so perfect I wanted to roar.

I did not roar. At least, not out loud. Though the inside of my head was not a quiet place when I lowered myself off the bed. I grasped the towel I’d abandoned and tossed it onto her stomach, covering her and the stain I’d left upon her. Torrance lay still for a long moment, her breathing slowing, before she began to clean herself up. I clenched a sigh between my teeth, wanting to clean her up myself, but that was what a husband would do, and she’d already reminded me in very clear terms that that was not what I was.

Not yet, little bride.

Soon, we would marry.

And she would be mine for the rest of her ephemeral life.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Torrance

Agreeing to Wylfrael’s rule about kissing me whenever and wherever he wanted came back to bite me in the ass in a major way.  I was pretty sure my fiancé had some kind of kissing fetish. He kissed me in hallways, in stairways, in the kitchen, as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom in the morning. He kissed me in front of the others, making Shoshen turn away, tail fluffing up in embarrassment, while Aiko and Ashken smiled and Brekken jumped and barked in excitement, mates mates mates. Wylfrael also kissed me when we were alone, with no eyes on us. He kissed me every night in bed, which always deepened into something far beyond kissing.

And not even just in the bed, either. His mouth on mine seemed to strip me of all defences, all common sense, until I was letting him go down on me in the open in the middle of the castle, spreading my legs on stairs and in crystal tunnels, where anyone could have walked by and seen us. Torrance from before wouldn’t have recognized me now.

Sometimes, the kisses were teasing, taunting, often used as a tool to shut me up when I started arguing or asking questions my groom didn’t want to answer. Other times, the kisses were harder, more searching, like he was trying to pull something out of me or get me to admit to something. Like he was trying oh so hard to prove something, to me, to himself, without even knowing exactly what it was.

He tried to kiss me out of questions the day before our wedding when I once again asked him what he would do when I died. We were having a sleigh ride, the gorgeously carved silver crystal structure on skis pulled behind the sontanna, whom I now knew was named Barra.

When Wylfrael frowned and started kissing me in response to my question, I steeled myself, forced myself not to get swept up in him, and said the word I hadn’t had to use even once since we’d started our new agreement. Or, maybe I hadn’t really wanted to use it.

“Stop,” I said into his mouth.

The word jarred him, probably because he hadn’t heard it in so long. He paused, listening, his lips still against mine, as if waiting to see if he’d heard wrong. When I said it again, he pulled away, leaning back against the crystal bench, his arm along the back of the seat, his fingertips draped downward and winding in my hair.

“I want you to actually answer my question,” I told him firmly. “What are you going to do when I die?”

His mouth flattened. It would have been a grim, cold expression if not for the crackling heat of his gaze.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, tight irritation creeping into his voice. I hadn’t heard him sound that way in a while. He’d been lighter lately. More relaxed. Maybe even happier. I’d seen glimpses of who Ashken had described to me that night in the library. I’d begun to see who Wylfrael had been before he’d almost died, before he’d met me. I’d witnessed moments of grace, of generosity, of kindness coming through, when he spoke to the staff or the animals. Despite the tension of that first interaction with Brekken, he’d obviously grown to love that fucking dog. He got down on the floor and wrestled with him and went hunting with him, and I noticed he often saved a scrap or two of his dinner to pass to the hound when Aiko refused to give him any meat from the kitchen.

I tried not to notice too much – notice this side of him – because I liked it too much. But it became impossible not to notice when those moments of kindness were focused on me. Bringing me sweetened milk before I asked for it, or bristling with a frantic, frenetic sort of care whenever I stubbed my toe or got a headache. As Aiko finished working on various outfits for me, he carted them into our bedroom, finding places for everything, shoving his own clothing aside to fill his armoire when mine overflowed. And when he held up clothing or fabrics for me to try on now, it no longer felt like an exertion of power but rather an actual desire to clothe me, to take care of me, to see what I’d look like wrapped up in something he’d chosen just for me.

“We have to talk about it,” I said. “I will die eventually and we need to plan for that.” I was a practical sort of person. I’d agreed to marry him because it made sense to do so and would get me what I needed – my friends, my freedom. I’d also grown up without a mother and had recently dealt with the death of my father. I knew that these things – the big things, life, marriage, death – needed to be discussed and planned for properly.