Page 173 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

To her surprise and delight, he even tasted the same.

But Ariadne, not ready to take it any further than a kiss with him in that form, said against his mouth, “Change back. I need you.”

Azriel grunted in response, and as she continued to hold him and kiss his jaw and neck, his body shifted back. The muscles returned to the size she was accustomed to, and his hands, roving her body now, used less pressure. His lips returned to her skin, drifting down her neck to the crook of her shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, fingers entwining in her curls to ease her head to the side so he could draw his fangs across her throat.

“Yes,” she breathed and pressed her body against his.

With a low growl of satisfaction, he sank his fangs into her neck as he cupped the back of her thighs, lifting her from the ground to place her on a tall, standing table. The possessive pull of her blood only stoked the fire in her sex. She pulled up the skirts of her dress to her hips, and his deft fingers unbuttoned his trousers with ease. Then he yanked down her panties, baring her to him, and eased her to the edge of the table.

Then Azriel sank his cock deep into her. She cried out as he thrust, each slow, steady stroke the full length of him. He filled her so completely that, for a long moment, her mind went blank with pleasure.

Azriel released her neck and tilted his head back with a loud moan. A small drip of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Gods damn her. The sight of it—her blood sustaining someone as powerful as he—rolled through her like a shock wave.

Ariadne lifted his shirt up and off him to feel his skin beneath her hands. His abdominal muscles contracted in rhythm to each rock of his hips. She angled herself back to better take him, moaning as he increased his intensity.

Bracing herself on her hands, Ariadne slid away bit by bit as he pounded into her. He grabbed her hip and dragged her back to the edge, then hooked an arm under her leg so her thigh rested in the crook to hold her steady.

“Harder.” She wanted to feel his strength as he slid in and out of her. So many times now, she had seen him use his strength and endurance—and each time had been for her. Now she wanted to take it herself.

He barked a curse, and before she knew what was happening, she fell back on the table. His cock pumped into her with more force than she had ever felt before, and gods, it felt glorious. With her leg still lifted, he draped it over his shoulder and leaned forward so his pelvis rubbed against her clit with every stroke.

Azriel ran his free hand up her side and grasped a breast hard. Pulling the neck of her dress down, he freed it from the fabric and rolled the tight, pink bud between his fingers. She cried out again, her whole body tensing. With a groan, he did it again before sucking it into his mouth and teasing her with his teeth and tongue.

Ariadne closed her eyes and moaned. She dug her fingers into his hair, her hips working in tandem with his to stimulate herself with every part of him. Between Azriel’s cock thrusting into her and his tongue on her nipple, she did not care that they were in a stable where anyone could walk in on them. In fact, the very idea of a voyeur at that moment only heightened the sensations.

He caught her mouth with his, fingers twisting in her hair again, and he groaned, “I am yours.”

Between each fervent kiss, she said, “Until the very end.”

Pleasure exploded through her. Her sex gripped him hard, and he rode out her orgasm until he, too, finished.

They remained there, draped over the tall table, for a long moment. Her breaths came and went in hard bursts, and he buried his face between her breasts.

When at last, he pulled himself from her, Azriel let out a low groan before carefully pulling up his trousers again. She sat up, relishing the soreness between her legs, and kissed him. He responded in kind, gentler this time, and fixed her skirts.

“We should get cleaned up,” he said as he helped her down.

Ariadne could not hide her delighted smile. “We should spend the rest of the night in our rooms.”

A grin spread across his face, and he kissed her again with more fervor. “As you wish.”

None of it could possibly be real. It felt like a dream. After all the time she’d spent avoiding him, Azriel had been convinced she’d leave. When she’d come to him in the barn, he heard those same words again and again.

I hate you more than you hate yourself.

The uncertainty had been written all over her face. She didn’t know how he’d react, and that tore at his heart. He’d never be angry with her, no matter her decision.

So when she said she needed him—that she loved him…it ripped through him like a storm. He’d been so scared. He’d been preparing for the worst. The relief was overwhelming.

Waking up next to her the following night felt the same. She curled in close to him, face soft with sleep, and the emotions overwhelmed him again. He draped an arm over his eyes and let them out so that when she woke up, he could smile and embrace the next steps of their relationship.

Which included, he realized, sitting down to tea with her sister, friends, and Madan—their shared brother. It was there he saw just how certain she had been about her decision. She shifted closer to him, held his hand beneath the table, and laughed.

Oh, that laugh could sustain him for all his days. The light dancing in her eyes and the sweet sound filled him with contentment. He’d missed her laugh, her smile, her joy.

“Tell me,” Emillie said after taking a sip of tea and eyeing them and Madan with a discerning look, “why you claimed my blood would not be enough to heal Madan.”

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