Air that didn’t remain cool for long as he lowered himself between my thighs. Rather than doing what Vagach did and pushing into me immediately, Izgath leaned forward and captured my mouth in his again. His magic seeped into me as well, caressing every inch of my skin. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pressed up into him, nipples brushing against his bare chest.

Breaking our kiss, he moved to my neck, planting a row of them along its length, all the way to my collarbone and down to my breasts. My mouth popped open in a silent O as he lavished attention on them. I writhed against him, core beating like the wings of a bird. “More,” I whimpered as quietly as I could.

A hand slipped between us, and then he was cupping me, parting my slick center and slipping a finger inside. A gasp tore through me as he nipped at the same time. “Izgath,” I moaned before biting down on my lip again.

At least in this camp, our sounds were more muffled by the activity around us.

He circled there, heightening my pleasure, and my body coiled around it. “Are you ready for more?” he asked, lifting his mouth from my breast to my ear and sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yes,” I breathed, and he inserted another finger. Something harder, thicker pressed against my thigh, and Izgath ground into it as he rocked his fingers against my inner walls. With subtle, slow movements, he found an easy rhythm that made me melt beneath him. His thumb pressed the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, and my neck rolled back as pleasure flooded me. Izgath heightened it with another wave of his magic, and soon, I was drowning in sensuous delight.

“Fates,” I breathed once he slipped another finger inside me. He stilled, and I nearly whimpered, every nerve alight and waiting for his next move. My thigh was damp where his cock rubbed against it. Where he cupped me was even damper.

“You feel incredible, Assyria,” he murmured in my ear, planting a kiss at the base of my jaw and beginning to thrust his fingers into me again. But his weren’t the hurried movements of a male trying to get it over with. No, Izgath moved like we were on the shores of a private beach, with millenia to spend wrapped in one another and no care for the outside world. Each press of him into me was exquisite, so unlike anything I’d ever done with Vagach.

“You were right,” I panted after he curled his fingers and worked them over an incredible spot inside me.

“About what?” he paused, eyes dancing, and my brows pinched as the pleasure ceased with it.

“Intimacy can be incredible.” A small, breathy laugh slipped out along with my words.

He stole the grin off our faces when our mouths met again. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I held onto him while he rocked into me, using one hand to swirl over my clit while the other held him upright. I let my hands wander, tracing over the hard muscles flexing with each movement, between us to cup my breasts, down to touch his hardness.

“Reaper,” he cursed when I wrapped my hand around him. He picked up his pace, and I matched the movement of my hand with his fingers, drawing so much pleasure I wondered why Vagach hadn’t at least tried to do this with me before we coupled.

My walls found a beat of their own, and my breath stuttered in my chest. Izgath grinned down at me, then changed the arrangement of his fingers. If I thought he was masterful before, I could barely breathe now for how he worked them inside me. “Come for me, Assyria,” Izgath breathed, digging the heel of his palm into my clit.

I slapped my free hand over my mouth to stifle the cry as my core clamped down on him, sending an explosion of pleasure through my veins. A low, heady groan slipped from him, but he didn’t stop moving, wringing every last drop from me. By the time my lashes stopped fluttering, his jaw was clenched tight, and his movements grew erratic.

With a grunt, he thrust into my hand, spilling his seed all along my thigh. Sweat slicked his torso, two drops racing from his neck and down his abs. He grabbed his discarded tunic and caught them before wiping me clean.

“You are incredible,” he said, awe threading his voice as he looked down at me again. My thighs were slick with my arousal, and bliss made my limbs heavy.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him, and he tossed his shirt aside, lying down beside me instead. He planted a kiss on my chest, then another on my lips.

“I am glad I could show you real pleasure, Assyria. You deserve to know it,” he murmured, looking down at me.

“Will you stay tonight?” I asked him, absently tracing the muscles on his chest.

“If you want me to, I will. Though I will have to dip out for fresh clothes and to rumple my bed.” He lifted a hand and planted kisses along the backs of my knuckles.

“I do,” I told him, and the grin that split his face sent flutters through my belly.

He shuffled us around so that he curled around my petite frame. “Sleep, Assyria,” he murmured in my ear. I closed my eyes, just for a moment, and savored the feel of him. The next thing I knew, it was morning, and Izgath was slipping away to change before anyone discovered him missing.

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21

“Are you certain you can’t stay longer?” Xannirin asked, lounging in my sleeping chamber while I packed the last of my things in the leather travel bag that was falling apart at the seams.

“Only a few Százados remain outstanding, and by the estimates, they should all return today,” I replied, shoving the last of my freshly-made tunics into the bag. A thread popped, and I cursed.

“You know, we have weavers who can make you a bag that doesn’t fall apart,” Xannirin commented, looking pointedly at the cracked, stained fabric in my hands.

“No,” I snapped, buckling the straps around so it didn’t further deteriorate.

Rolling his eyes, he rose, then went to Grem and Zeec, petting them and whispering passive-aggressive comments about me in their ears. “If he’s ever too mean you know where to find me, okay? I’ll always take you in.”

“Again, you can get dogs of your own,” I pointed out, crossing to the mannequin that held my armor and unbuckling one section at a time. Securing them in place on my body felt like coming home, and as I donned the last of my gear, the Rokath that relaxed in the capital with his cousins fell away, replaced once again by the ruthless, cruel Halálhívó.

Though that part of me never really left. It was always there, lurking in the background, waiting to spring forth at the slightest provocation.

A knock sounded on the outer door, drawing the dogs’ attention. Their pointed ears perked straight forward as they released two sharp barks and trotted in that direction. “For Fates’ sake, what now?” I groused, fingers working over the black metal cuffs on my forearms. Xannirin followed me into the sitting chamber, hanging back while I stomped toward the door.

Sending the dogs to their beds and yanking the door open, I found two red-armored Kral’s Guard waiting, a young female pinned between them. “Halálhívó,” the one on the left said, “the priestess insists that she speak with you.”

The female braced her hands on her thighs, half bent over like she was desperately trying to fill her lungs with air. Black robes swept down her small frame, though the white belt around her waist told me that she was only an acolyte. Then, my gaze snagged on the parchment clutched in her hand.

“What is it? Did something happen to the High Priestess?” I asked, and the female’s head shot up. She took a half-step back and proffered me the paper. The Kral’s Guard twitched forward as if they were going to stop her from attacking me. I slashed them both with a derisive look. I needed no one to protect me. They shrank back, swallowing and adjusting their grips on their weapons.