Page 35 of Black Crown

“And I am sorry to have hurt yours.” He pressed his lips on top of my hair.

What we hadn’t said seemed to speak louder—but I refused to retract what I’d said.

Yet I loved him. There was so much chaos surrounding us that having contention between us didn’t seem right. I rolled to face him, seeing my conflict reflected in his gaze as we stared, unspeaking, at each other. We didn’t have to agree on everything to be together. I knew that. And he knew that. Searching his face, I wiggled my arm free and rested my hand against his cheek. His whiskers were rough on my skin, and his heat trickled into me. Biting my lip, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

Searing heat pulsed between us, and the urge for more thrummed through me. Tyrrik growled, nipping at my lip, and his hands gripped my waist and pulled me closer. Our tongues brushed against each other, and I arched, instinctively pressing my body tighter to his, gasping when he trailed hot kisses down my neck, stopping to suck the sensitive skin. Our bodies were tugged closer together as though a rope had been jerked tight about our middles. My feet found purchase on his calves, pushing me up on their own accord. My thoughts clouded with want, and I pressed harder into Tyrrik, aching for more. Tyrrik’s hands seemed to be everywhere, my waist, my thigh, then higher on my torso, his thumb grazing the underside of my breast.

“Mate.”

The deep rumble of the single word vibrated in the walls. I shivered as his possessive claim swept through me, my head falling back as he pressed hot kisses down my neck and just above my collarbone. His teeth rested against the base of my neck, and my eyes widened, my breath halting as he held his lengthened fangs over our mark. For some reason, I knew a bite there would be significant. He’d done it too often for me to miss the gesture.

I remained still as his breath warmed my skin, my heart galloping wildly. As his lips drew over his fangs. He kissed the spot, whisper-soft, and slid a hand behind my head to draw my face to his and crush his mouth against mine.

“Tyrrik,” I moaned into his mouth, energy coursing through me.

We grabbed and pulled, kneaded and stroked, our hands frenzied. My mind was everywhere at once and yet wholly consumed with this man, my mate. I needed more. “Please.”

Our teeth gnashed together, but neither one of us relented.

My fingernails lengthened, clawing down the front of his aketon, leaving no blemish in his smooth, bronze skin because he was mine and I was his. I pushed my hands over the ridges of his muscular chest, gripping his shoulders.

He rolled above me, and his hands bunched in the front of my nightgown, his eyes wild. His intention clear.

“Yes,” I panted. I wanted the cumbersome garment gone. I needed him closer.

The fabric tore slightly, my heart, mind, and body all ready for more.

“Lord Tyrrik and Lady Ryn,” a voice interrupted, muffled by the door to the chamber. The staccato pounding barely registered. “Is everything all right in there?”

The words made no sense as I lay panting with Tyrrik above me.

Something else was said, but my mind barely registered the sound.

I blinked, and Tyrrik was gone. The groan of shearing metal and splintering wood pierced through my foggy mind, and then the chamber door was ripped from its hinges as my mate slammed a Phaetyn against the far wall of the passage.

Thatdoused what was left of my passion, and I leapt off the bed, yelling, “Tyrrik! Don’t kill him!”

I rushed to his side, the quartz walls blurring with my speed, and gripped his wrist, pushing my body between the two. Tyrrik’s hand was wrapped around the throat of a Phaetyn guard.

“Tyrrik,” I said. “Hey. He’s no threat. He’s a guard. He thought . . .” I had no idea what he thought, and I threw out, “He thought we were hurt.”

The Drae’s eyes were inky and wide, his fangs well past his chin. I continued to talk to him, touching my hand to his skin, calling his name, and slowly my words seemed to penetrate the bucket of desirehishead was in. The black receded from his eyes, and he blinked at the man, releasing him without warning. The guard crumpled on the ground.

“Ah . . . Sorry,” I called after the Phaetyn as he scrambled away from us and sprinted down the hall. I scratched my chin, certain the incident wouldn’t do anything to help endear us to the Phaetyn. Though it was a blip to what else I’d done.

Tyrrik turned in the now empty passage and tugged me to him. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Holy pancakes.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “You did not just say that.”

He smiled dryly, eyeing the mangled wooden door to our chamber lying in the passageway with us. “I might’ve briefly forgotten myself.”

I laughed again, gasping for air between my chortling. When I’d reigned in my laughter, I managed to say, “You just strangled someone because he knocked on the door.”

There I went, showing off my brilliance. I shook my head in disbelief. Was this really my life now? I’d been a Drae for just over a month, and I’d known I was Phaetyn for longer, but if any moment hammered in how strange I could expect my future to be, if we survived this war, it was now.

“Well, that was some kiss,” Tyrrik announced before moving to pick up the door.

A kiss I’d like to continue,I shot at him.Really, I wanted to hear him saying holy pancakes again. My new goal in life. I smoothed the front of my rumpled nightgown, eying the tear that exposed my collarbone. I looked up to see Tyrrik watching me. I raised my eyebrows in question but decided to ask something else instead. “Do you think that guard was meant to deliver a message?”

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