Page 127 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Everything you do is perfect,” he said and kissed her neck before dragging a fang along her throat. She pushed closer, and he struck, digging his fangs into her. Her tangy blood rushed across his tongue before shooting up the hollows.

Ariadne sucked in a sharp breath and shifted so his cock pressed against his belly and slid between her slick folds. Again and again, she moved her hips so her clit rubbed against his length. The pressure and friction and each draw from her vein sent him spiraling once more.

Withdrawing his fangs, he licked the small holes on the side of her throat. He watched a trickle of blood run down her neck, soak into the black lace where the edge of the brand on her chest hid away—a twin to his own—and said in a gravelly whisper, “I’m yours. Do with me what you wish.”

To his delight, Ariadne shifted back onto her knees and reached between her legs. She angled his cock up so when she eased back down, he slid into her sex. She continued the grinding, her clit rubbing against his pelvis with each movement, hands braced on his chest. Her low, primal moan of pleasure raced through him.

He ran his palms up her thighs, the lace spilling over his hands, to grip her hips. The slow, fluid rhythm she set at once teased him and fulfilled every need demanded of his bond. The incessant desire to feel her—all of her, inside and out—eased the knot in his chest with every smooth rock of her body. Somehow the lace obscuring his view of her breasts and curves only heightened the sensations.

So when Ariadne found her release, her core undulating with it, Azriel hissed a curse and closed his eyes to ride out the tight ripples which gripped him. Her euphoric cry swelled in his chest, knowing it was he—his body, his cock—who gave her such powerful orgasms. And as she slowed, he urged her weight forward so he could begin thrusting.

While he rolled his hips, driving himself into her warm, wet sex, she splayed her hands across his chest. Her fingertips roved over his scars as her lips traveled up his sternum and from one pec to the other. Each soft kiss streaked across his skin like lightning, shocking him through his middle and down the length of his shaft.

With a gentle touch, Ariadne tilted his chin back to expose his throat. She drew her tongue along what he knew to be one of the vivid blue veins, not unlike the way she’d licked the tip of his cock. The very thought made his breath catch in his lungs. When he released it in a groan, she sank her fangs into his flesh, smooth as a knife.

She hummed her delight while she drank from him, her hips surging at the rush of vitality. Azriel couldn’t hold back the low cry of pleasure and gripped her a little harder, fingers digging into her to hold her steady. A sudden thrust from her made his entire body alight. Too much, and he’d finish too quickly. He wanted to savor her just as she did him.

Too soon, she retracted her fangs and, after a quick lick, pressed a palm to the wounds which wouldn’t close as quickly as hers. She tilted her head to the other side to kiss his neck and tease his ear with gentle nipping and sucking. In return, he pounded his cock up into her in a steady rhythm. He slipped one hand out from under her robe to hold her by the back of the neck and kiss her hard.

Ariadne pulled back to scan his face. “I love you so much, Azriel.”

“You are my sun,” he breathed, never ceasing his thrusting, “my moon, and my stars. You are the air I breathe.”

She slammed her mouth down on his with a moan and, balancing herself on one hand, she tugged open the ties of her robe. The lapels fell open, exposing that which had tantalized him since her appearance in the doorway. In one smooth movement, Azriel rolled Ariadne onto her back, cupping a breast while still steadying her hips. Now at a better angle, he thrust into her and drew her tight nipple into his mouth. He flicked the tip with his tongue and sucked until she moaned again and drew her fingers through his hair. Then he repeated on the other.

Ariadne writhed beneath him, panting and moaning as he rubbed and pinched the taut pink buds and worked his cock in and out. He reveled in the pleasure he gave her and in the euphoria he drifted through with each stroke. Deeper and harder, he went into her slick sex as she lay steady beneath him. She tilted her hips and gasped as she took every thick inch of him.

Then she cried out his name, stilling beneath him as another orgasm cascaded through her. This time Azriel pumped his hips hard, drawing out her pleasure and shattering as he, too, found his release. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her intoxicating scent, riding the waves of the climax.

In the wake of their throws, Azriel held her as he always did. She tucked her forehead against his chest, and he stroked her side with the back of his fingers.

“Hold me,” she whispered without looking up at him.

He frowned into the dim light of the room. “I am holding you.”

“No.” She guided his hand beneath the lace robe to the skin of her back. “Hold me.”

His stomach lurched into his throat. He’d never touched her back—not like this. Not after watching her twist out of hugs or bat away drifting hands.

Not after seeing what had been done to her.

Nonetheless, his hand slid across her skin, starting on her lower back, dotted with small, knotted scars. Each one sent a dagger into his heart. Then he drifted higher. There the scars grew longer and wider, and she inhaled sharply.

“Are you certain?” He brushed his lips on the top of her head. “I can hold you in other ways.”

“Please.” Her quiet voice hardly reached his ears. “I want to remember the feeling of hands who didn’t hurt me.”

Azriel swallowed hard. Didn’t hurt her. He hadn’t. Not really. It’d been Ehrun. That monster tore open her flesh and engraved himself on her.

Fire ripped through him at the thought. He should’ve killed the monster for all he’d done. Now that he had power as a Governor, he could use resources to find the dhemon and make him pay for all the damage he’d done.

He splayed his hand across her back and pulled her close. With another firm kiss to her head, he whispered back, “I’ll never hurt you.”

Not again.

Chapter 28

The fading soreness between Ariadne’s legs provided a reminder of her time entangled with Azriel as she sat at the long table for breakfast the following evening. After dancing until her feet hurt and surprising him with the black lace robe Revelie insisted she take upon their engagement, she felt herself coming back to life. What surprised her most was how much she enjoyed watching him as she sucked his cock. If what he had done to her brought as much pleasure to him as the previous day’s activities had for her, she understood precisely why he did it.

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