Page 109 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Twice now this Season, they had attacked her where she should have been safe. Outside her own home and in a public park. The purpose of both remained a mystery—one better left to investigate after the wedding.

The wedding with a far more powerful conclusion than she could have ever dreamed. One that pushed all thoughts of dhemons from her mind for the first time since watching Gracen succumb to his injuries at Laeton Park.

Yet when they exited the temple, guests calling their congratulations in their wake, Ariadne’s heart thundered. She had never before accepted the hand of a man and entered a carriage alone with him. Though she heard of what occurred between newlyweds in the time it took to travel from temple to reception, Ariadne’s stomach churned at the thought. It warred with the fire blossoming in her core, a simultaneous desire and revulsion as the door closed behind her and Azriel.

While the spacious carriage provided more than enough room for them both to sit across from one another, the close confines made Ariadne’s head spin. She could still taste his blood on her lips, feel his fangs in her arm, and scent the musky spice which clung to his skin. All of it called to her, but each time she considered what came next, she recoiled from him.

The carriage jolted forward, jerking her toward Azriel. He held out a hand to steady her, still careful to not touch her more than necessary.

“Are you well?” Azriel’s low, rocky voice pulled her attention to his face. He scanned her with knitted brows.

Ariadne sucked in a slow breath and nodded. “It is all so new.”

A slow, tight smirk twisted at his lips. “What? Being alone with me?”

“I—I—yes.”

“If I may,” he said, sounding far too much like the Lord Governor he now was, “I do believe that is precisely what landed us here.”

Despite herself, Ariadne huffed a laugh. The knot in her gut loosened a bit, and she shook her head. “You are quite right, I suppose.”

“Then tell me,” Azriel continued and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees, “why are you so distant?”

Ariadne gaped at him, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. The peridot darkened. In an instant, she understood precisely why the carriage ride provided adequate time for such devious activities.

And with the way he watched her, she wanted him to hold her as he had the night of his duel, the past be damned.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, fingers twisting in the tulle of her skirt.

Azriel shifted closer, hands still to himself. His eyes slipped to her shaking hands and drifted up her body to rest at her throat. “I won’t do anything unless you truly want me to.”

She forced her palms flat on her legs to hide their quivering. “Azriel—”

“No.” He took her hand, fingers sliding up her thighs to retrieve it. The light touch sent a shiver through her. Azriel ignored it and held her firm. “I’ll never ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Ariadne bit her lip and took another deep breath at the triggered memories. She shoved them away with equal force and, releasing the breath, she said, “Then kiss me. Please.”

Whatever hold Azriel had on himself snapped. He launched forward and cupped a gentle hand on the back of her neck, drawing her in to him. In a blink, he went from calm and composed to hungry and eager.

The feel of his lips on hers was precisely what she needed in that moment. It distracted her mind and replaced her racing thoughts with him. Just Azriel and the way his mouth moved—the way his tongue stroked and his teeth nipped.

At first, she froze. The switch from total control to the sudden lack thereof shocked her. But as his familiar scent filled her nose and his tender touches brushed her skin, she melted into his grasp. Then his fingers curled into her hair, urging her closer.

She answered the call by sliding to her feet, where she pulled her long skirts above her knees to climb onto his lap. He moaned against her lips as she settled there, straddling his hips. It sent fire coursing through her veins, so when she shifted even closer, her heart thundered at the feeling of his hard length pressing against that sweet place at the crux of her thighs.

First to break away, Azriel let out a low growl and drew his fangs across her throat. A shiver ran down her spine as he murmured huskily, “Your blood sings to me.”

Ariadne released a breathy sigh. She could not remove the taste of him from her mouth, nor did she want to. The very memory of his blood gushing across her tongue, then through the hollows of her fangs, sent a rush through her core.

He groaned again, fingers weaving through her hair beneath the veil to ease her head back, exposing her throat and drawing the tip of his tongue up her neck. “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

A light chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest. “I can smell how much you like me touching you, and it drives me out of my mind.”

When he released her hair, Ariadne tilted her head back down to look him in the eyes. His heady gaze seared back at her with amusement. She leaned forward to kiss him again, and he sat back and away.

“What—”

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