Page 131 of The Trials of Ophelia

When he was already fighting battles no one should have to? It would be selfish of me. But dammit, I wanted him. Destroying Tolek—loving Tolek as I truly wanted to—could be my destruction, as well.

And I’d gladly send us both to ashes if it meant we burned together.

“Kiss me, Vincienzo.” It was a plea. “Kiss me and show me what reckless, uninhibited love really feels like. Let’s destroy each other.”

There, in that caved in alcove that had no room for curses and queens and spiteful fathers, he did.

Tolek’s lips crashed to mine with the kiss we’d both been suppressing and yearning for. Every inch of my body burned with his touch as he devoured me like he never had before, tongues and lips moving in a synchronized dance of wanton need and fated promises, both desiring and reverent.

I dug my hands into his hair. Tolek groaned against my mouth, the rumble radiating into me. Bending but not breaking the kiss, he gripped the back of my thighs and lifted me. My legs locked around his waist, his hard length pressing perfectly against my center. I gasped, nails dragging over everywhere they could reach, scoring the back of his neck.

“A little rough there, Alabath?” He panted, smirking against my lips.

“You like it.”

He huffed a laugh. “You have no idea.”

But based on the way he strained against his leathers, I was certain I did.

Tol drove me back against the wall, one hand gripping my backside, the other tangled in my hair. I gasped as he tugged my head to the side and dragged his teeth down the column of my throat, biting to mark me as his.

Heat gathered between my thighs as I rocked against him, using the wall as leverage for friction. “I want you,” I begged as he met my frantic movements.

“Thank the fucking Angels.” He turned us away from the wall and sank to the ground. Gently, he laid me on my back, making sure my hair wasn’t caught on anything and no sharp rocks remained.

Of course we’d end up in a room with no bed.

We were frantic, our lips each consuming the other. My core ached, and I wrapped my leg around him again, seeking relief. He tried to pull back, but I only pressed tighter to him and gripped his shoulders.

But Tolek grabbed my wrists, pinning them to the earth above my head.

“Are you going to fight for control here, too?” He pulled my bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing my wrists. “You own every aspect of our lives, and you have no idea how much I love watching you do it.” His words were husky as he kissed down my neck and collarbone. “How hard I get watching you commanding a room and arguing with Angels. Makes me want to drop to my knees and worship you there in front of everyone.”

That needy spot at the apex of my thighs pulsed with the praise. A moan slipped up my throat, and Tol kissed me bruisingly to catch it.

“I’ll spend every day standing beside you in front of our allies and every night kneeling before you behind closed doors. But now…” My whole body burned as his lips skimmed my jaw, stopping at my ear. “Can I show you pleasure now, Alabath?”

“Yes,” I breathed. If he didn’t, I’d combust. I wanted him to bring all those promises to life, to sate this need that had been mounting between us for months.

“Good girl.”

He flipped me over, pulling me to my knees so he could carefully untie the bindings of my leathers. His fingers swept across my back expertly, and I tried not to think of why he was so deft at removing women’s clothing. He is mine, the possessive mantra echoed in my head.

When the vest fell open, he gently tugged it off, then spun me around to pull the thick tunic over my head. His eyes dropped to that last layer of silk and lace, the only thing still covering my breasts.

“I really hate Mindshaper clothing,” Tolek repeated my sentiment from yesterday, chasing me as I lowered back to the ground.

“Why’s that?” I gasped. He kneeled between my legs and swept light fingers up my ribs, circling my peaked nipples.

Then, Tol’s hands curled around the lace trim on my chest. “There’s too much of it.” With barely any effort, he shredded the thin fabric so my breasts were bare before him, and he groaned. “Perfect isn’t enough of a word for you.”

He ducked his head to kiss me first, then worked his way down my neck, across my collarbones, leaving no part of me untouched.

“Those sonnets the Angels could write would never be enough to describe you.”

One hand cupped my breast, thumb dragging across my nipple. I arched into him at the sensation fluttering through my body, my hips grinding against him.

“Needy girl,” he laughed, sucking my nipple into his mouth.

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