Page 165 of The Dark Mirror

‘I’m all right.’ I traced his jaw. ‘Just keep me here.’

He obliged. As I tamped the memory down, he changed our positions, so my back was against his chest, before he quested past my ribs and stomach.

Once, he had always worn gloves around me. Now he was at my entrance, finding the evidence of my human arousal, and he wasn’t turning away. He idled there until I coaxed him farther, into the warmth of me, and I could feel the scars he wore like rings around his fingers, the proof of his devotion to Terebell. I pictured him at the organ again, that masterful finesse that made the night resound with music.

It felt sacred, to be touched on the inside, like knowledge stolen from the branch of a tree. He never took his eyes off my face. I suddenly couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t wanted to burn in those eyes.

My release came on as a feathering, wings unfurling to the tips before they swept all the way through me. Even after Paris, I still wasn’t prepared for that loss of control, even as I recognised the first soft flutter of it. Arcturus pressed me close as I tightened around him.

‘I have you.’

His voice in my ear sent me over the edge. A drumbeat overtook my body. Even as it arched my back and sang along my limbs, he spun out the cascade of sensation, as patient as he was resolved, until I was heavy and soft in his arms. When I sank against his chest, he withdrew in a slow glide that almost undid me all over again.

‘What was that,’ I said faintly, ‘about mercy?’

‘I trust that I granted it.’ He caressed my collarbone. ‘Are you satisfied, Underqueen?’

‘Not even close.’

His eyes smouldered. In reverent silence, he eased my hips to the edge of the mattress and knelt in front of me. I watched in a haze, glazed with sweat, as he stroked the backs of my calves. A sudden flicker of nerves pressed my knees together, but one scorching look from him, and I let them fall apart again. I already knew he liked doing this.

Arcturus kissed my breastbone, hands encircling my hips. As I gripped the sheets in anticipation, he lifted my thighs on to his shoulders, laying me bare to his mouth. He followed the notes I had written in Paris, but he knew how to play by ear, and he improvised.

‘Is ceol m’anama tú.’ I trailed my fingers through his thick hair. ‘Fan liom, a rúnseirce.’

I wasn’t sure why it came out in Irish, but it emboldened me, knowing he had no idea what I was saying. When he glanced up at me, the light in his eyes dappled my lower stomach.

‘Are you asking me for something, Paige?’

‘I think I might be … praying.’ My legs were trembling. ‘Jaxon does … think you’re gods.’

‘Perhaps to some. But here, I am the supplicant.’

My head fell back as he tasted me, accepting my libation even as he knelt in worship. This time, he prolonged his mercy, keeping me on the cusp of release, caught in the crescendo.

And I began to understand what it was to be a Reph. It could have been moments or hours that were slipping away, and I would have been none the wiser. In this room, I was immortal.

After that short eternity, he lifted me to his chest again, so we faced each other. My breaths came quick and fast. I hadn’t known that there were sweet and painless kinds of torture.

Arcturus stilled then, a question burning in his eyes. Without the dam on the golden cord, I knew what he was asking. I knew that he expected nothing, and that everything we had shared was enough. In answer, I slid a hand down his front, savouring the silken finish of his sarx, until I reached a part of him that I had never touched. This was where things had gone wrong with the amaurotic, but I felt safe with Arcturus. He had composed a hymn to my body; now I wanted us to be one instrument.

He kissed along my jaw, letting me get used to him. Though I was no expert in this department, nothing came as a particular surprise. He was big, but that was hardly the shock of the century, given his general proportions.

As goosebumps spread across my skin, the unrelenting ache grew stronger. I drew Arcturus close. With the lightest touch under my chin, he stopped me.

‘I do not believe we have any need of it,’ he said, ‘but I can use protection, if you wish.’

‘You’re grand,’ I said. ‘Like you say, I don’t … see the point, in our case.’ My face warmed a little, but I returned his gaze, and it steadied me. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Quite sure. Are you?’

‘Yes.’ I kissed him. ‘I’m very sure.’

Arcturus held me to his sarx. We had defied the doctrine of distance so many times. I refused to be afraid.

As I guided him, I felt my body starting to resist, like my gift so often did. A tight pressure mounted between my legs.

‘Paige.’

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