Page 147 of Shadows and Roses

Her hips bucked, and his fingers tightened.

"Don’t move," he whispered. A small shudder ran through her, and she went still.

Pleased, he nonetheless kept a firm grip on her thighs as his tongue stretched out again. This time, he swept a slow path up her sensitive, swollen folds. The gasp that fell from her lips shot straight to his cock. A growl answered her. He wanted to play. He could imagine exploring every inch of her skin, hours passing heedlessly as he reduced her to a puddle of whimpering want.

Some other day.

The taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her trembling muscles—he crawled up the bed, nipping her skin along the way, suckling at her breasts, kissing her neck. His cock met her hot, wet slit and he tensed. He hadn’t been this impatient in years.

Meeting her eyes, he found the same hunger staring back.

Yes. His hips shifted.

A slow, gentle, lazy thrust. She gasped, squirming, arching her back. Her toes curled with his agonizingly slow withdrawal, then the smooth slide back in, a bit faster. This was torture, probably for both of them. Sweet, wonderful, terrible torture. Castien's tongue slipped into her mouth, teasing her lips as his hips ground small, soft circles. She whimpered when he lifted tantalizingly away from her raised hips and dodged her attempts to suck in his lip or tongue. His mouth found her neck when she panted, "Please."

His low chuckle made her clench. "Please, what?"

"Please take me, make me yours," she begged, straining against the soft cuffs around her wrists, her eyes locked on his sensuous, slightly curved lips and the tongue that peeked out, taunting her.

His kiss melted her, her body suddenly limp beneath him as she moaned. When hefinally allowed her to take a breath, she only gasped because, right then, his hips started thrusting hard and fast. Her eyes rolled up and she gripped the bars of the headboard, her body growing taut and tense.

"Be my Consort!" she cried right before that moment of release. Castien growled and held himself still as she quaked below him.

Consort. His lips curved into a sardonic smile. She would ask him now, like this. He moved again, taking his time, watching her carefully. When her eyes started to flutter open, his rhythm suddenly increased, faster, longer, harder. With a strangled groan, she arched again, sending delicious thrills through his abdomen that began to push him over the edge.

One more. Her breathing regained its steadiness. "I'm yours," he whispered, his eyes glazing. "Anything you want. Anything you ask." A thrust with every word. "Take me," he whispered into her ears, blacking out for a moment as her heat melted him into bliss.

"Castien… Ohh…"

He wanted to hear that breathless whisper of his name for the rest of his life. He needed it.

But as a Queen’s Consort?

When her body finally stopped writhing beneath him, and her panting slowed to a sated sigh, he leaned up on his hands and gazed at the perfect woman in his arms.

Yes. No.Anything, he’d said.

He combed her hair. "Consort? You'd make a whore your Consort?"

Her eyes caught his, the flinty cold emeralds making him inhale in surprise. That particular gaze she usually reserved for the court, for those that displeased her; it sent a chill to his core, a sharpening of the senses, and a reminder that a predator shared this bed with him. She’d gladly handed over control, but she could take it back at any moment. Prodding that thoughtfrom a few different angles, he found that he didn't mind, not with her.

Snick. Her bindings fell, and she stroked his face. "Who's going to stop me?" A hint of the cold Queen slid into her voice. "I take what I want, and anyone who mocks you will suffer—"

His finger on her lips cracked the ice in her eyes, the warmth slowly gathering there a soft brush of fur on his insides. The tip of her tongue touched his finger and she grinned. "Habit," she shrugged apologetically. He grinned back, a feral part of him delighted to play with this dangerous, delicious woman.

"I would be honored to be your Consort," he murmured, watching her tongue and lips dance over his finger. His mouth replaced his finger, a branding hot kiss that pulled a whine out of her. He leaned back.

"I love you." His fingers stroked her soft hair. "I've never wanted, needed someone so much." He buried his head in her hair, her throat, tongue sweeping her skin until she moaned. He wanted to stay here forever, nestled inside her, instead of speaking aloud what they both knew to be true.

"But I can't be your Consort," a tortured whisper, and she tensed beneath him. "You know I can't," he reasoned as claws dug into his back. "I rejected your offer before because I wasn’t ready—but I'm still not fit for court, for the dance you perform every day. They would tear me to shreds to get to you, to the nation. They’ve already broken me once, just because I was a shiny new toy. What will they do if you favor me?" She growled and bit him, teeth a little too hard on his neck. Her tongue licked the soreness away and she sighed.

"I could give you a title," she mumbled.

He laughed bitterly. "You know that's not the problem. They don't care who's inyour bed, but Consort? You compared me to a rat when I first arrived here, the court filled with snakes, and you the hawk. I'm still a rat, Anais."

"I'll make you a mongoose. I'll make you more than their equal. Play the game with me, Castien." Her claws scratched gently tingling shivers into his back. "It'll hurt. We'll do unforgivable things to each other and those around us. But eventually, they will all bow to you. Dance with me. I don't want to dance alone anymore."

His eyes roamed her face while a heavy, tight ball settled in the pit of his stomach. Could he do this, be someone he hated, for her, to help her make a better world? He would do anything for her. "Anything. Anything you want. Just don't break me, my Queen," his voice turned harsh. Not again.

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