Page 126 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

When they arrived at their small guest suite, Azriel opened the door for his wife and locked it behind them. The tall windows of their cozy sitting room overlooked the pond in the lower gardens during the night hours, though the view couldn’t be seen when they entered. Servants had already been through to tug the heavy velvet drapes shut to block out the inevitable sunrise. As Azriel double-checked each curtain’s security, Ariadne sauntered into the windowless washroom, humming a melody from the quartet below.

Azriel couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering to Madan in the moments alone. His brother should’ve been present at the Dodds, whether he was still angry with Azriel or not. In fact, he’d seen Madan’s name on a placard just two rooms down. They’d expected him to arrive as well.

It’d been wrong to send Madan away. The moment he’d opened his eyes the night following his threat, Azriel knew he’d made a mistake. He’d done everything to keep his brother safe all their lives, and in an instant, he’d lost control. By the time he’d gotten to Madan’s suite, however, it was empty, and Rune was no longer in the stables.

He knew why he’d said what he did upon reflecting on his fury. None of it had to do with Madan at all. There’d been a part of him for over a year now which knew the dhemons had done more to Ariadne than he’d been told. He’d merely spent the last agonizing year and a half ignoring the truth—and all the signs laid out before him by Ariadne herself.

The aversion to touch. Her meekness before men. The quick shift of emotions at the mention of those monsters.

No, after so long pretending it hadn’t happened, the moment she’d confirmed it, a piece of him broke. None of it was Madan’s fault—not keeping it from him or what he did to protect her from possibly bearing their young. Rather, Azriel’s anger stemmed from his own inadequacy.

He didn’t protect her well enough. Not from any of the dhemons.

Azriel sat at the edge of the bed after checking the curtains and buried his face in his hands. Now he faced another issue entirely because of his selfishness: where was Madan? With the dhemons seeking their revenge, he became a walking beacon. They knew Azriel would do anything—anything—to protect his brother.

The wood floor creaked, and Azriel looked up, every thought dropping from his head like lead in an instant. Whatever troubles he had could wait for a solution just a little longer. No good in worrying about something he couldn’t control.

After all, Ariadne stood before him in nothing but a black lace robe. Her long, dark hair, freshly released from their pinned confines, rolled over her shoulders in a wave of curls. A long, pale leg slipped from between the loosely tied lapels, exposing her hip and a sliver of the smooth expanse of her stomach. The dip between her perfect breasts slid in and out of view.

“Gods,” he breathed, a sweet heat rushing through his veins.

Ariadne stepped closer, and the lace shifted. Her nipples flashed in and out of sight behind the floral pattern. Each elegant movement brought her closer, sending his heart leaping. The bonded part of him purred in contentment.

“You’re beautiful.” Azriel cupped her hips when she stopped before him and looked up at her in awe. How he’d gotten so lucky, he had no idea. “I love you.”

She said nothing in return. Instead, Ariadne slipped her hands across his shoulders and pushed his jacket from his arms. He shifted out of the suddenly constricting piece of Caersan fashion, then waited to see what she chose next. Off with the cravat and vest and her fingers slid into the deep opening of his shirt to caress his chest with a hum. She gave the fabric a small tug, and it was enough of an invitation for him to yank it off over his head and toss it to the floor.

Then—gods help him—Ariadne knelt between his legs. Light as a phantom, she dragged her hands down the top of his thighs before pulling off one boot, then the other. Back up his inner legs went her fingers, every touch like fire he couldn’t get enough of, until she reached the waist of his trousers and the last thing keeping his erection at bay.

Azriel leaned back onto his palms so her wandering fingers could more easily access the buttons. Her hands brushed along his stiff cock as she worked, and he swallowed hard. She knew precisely what she was doing. By the way her eyes sparkled, she enjoyed it.

She pushed the last buttons loose, and he sprang free right into her waiting hand. He sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers wrapped around the thick length then began a steady stroke. Up and down she went, her eyes sliding from his face, down the contracting muscles of his abdomen, and to the cock in her hand.

Each slide up and down his shaft seemed to pulse through his entire being. To see her as enthralled by his body as he was by hers, Azriel almost couldn’t handle it. Her mere touch on his bare skin was enough to send him over the edge—for her to not only initiate intimacy but to seek his pleasure as he’d sought hers? He was going to lose his mind.

A groan rolled from deep in his chest, and it only served to spur her on. Ariadne bit her lip as she watched him, moving a little faster and gripping a little harder. He couldn’t help the jerk of his hips to drive himself against her palm.

Her gaze shifted back to her working hand, lips parting at the sight of the wet bead at his tip. She hesitated, her steady strokes missing a beat, then she locked eyes with him again as she licked the head of his cock.

He swore and let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. The image of her there on her knees before him would forever be burned into his memory—and damn, what a beautiful picture it was. But he had to look away to collect himself, or he’d finish before knowing where any of this would lead.

“Do you like that?” Ariadne’s voice, usually so light and sweet, was husky and breathless. She slid her hand up and down and up again.

“Fuck yes.” He had no other words.

Azriel dragged his attention back to her, head fuzzy from the absolute pleasure pulsing through his body with each stroke of her hand. The moment he laid eyes on her, however, she stopped again as though to assess the truthfulness of his words. She studied him for a long moment. Her free hand slid up his leg to grip his inner thigh and pin it to the bed.

Then she slid his cock into her mouth.

He barked another curse and gripped the bedspread beneath him to steady himself. Her lips wrapped around his thick girth, and the length she couldn’t take in, she continued to stroke with her hand. As she got used to the size of him, she adjusted. Her tongue found the rhythm of each suck, and in a matter of seconds, Azriel’s mind went blank.

Ariadne found a steady pace, her head bobbing up and down. She looked up at him and he moaned loudly, pushing his fingers into her hair—not to drive himself deeper, but to touch her in any way he could.

Soon her fingers slipped up and down his length, slick and tiring from the constant movement. Though Azriel could watch her there forever, his pleasure wasn’t enough for him. He shifted his grip from her hair to her face and eased his hips back until she slowed, then released him. His cock glistened, and her lips remained parted and plump.

“Was that okay?” She drew a finger across her mouth.

Azriel groaned, leaned forward, and kissed her hard. As she leaned into him, rising up a bit, he grabbed her by the back of her thighs and dragged her up to him. He laid back so she fell onto his chest, straddling his legs. The lace robe opened down the middle to expose more of her naked body.

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