Page 36 of Broken Shadows

I roll my shoulders back and force myself to lean against the tub. My eyes trace the v-lines dipping into the top of his unbuttoned pants, the subtle shifts of his movements flexing the slabs of muscle. Lust blooms in my core.

Lorcan’s shadows fetch another bottle, this one a gorgeous, jeweled azure, then he deposits a puddle of citrus and sage scented liquid into his palm and lathers it onto my roots.

“I can smell your arousal,” Lorcan mentions causally.

I moan as his thumbs and strong fingers massage my scalp and I relax into his touch as his strong, nimble fingers clean my hair. “I’m positive that’s true.”

He laughs. “Close that bratty mouth and let me pamper you. Well, for now. I’ll need it spread nice and wide when I fuck your throat later.”

My moan dances among the bubbles floating on the water, and I release a satisfied sigh as he continues to wash my hair. “Promises, promises.”

Lorcan hums, “Mmm. That's it. Relax your muscles and allow the heat to soak into your bones.” His fingers pause their soothing ministrations, almost hesitantly, then resumes. “You've been through so fucking much… I won't ask you about it now. But at some point, we need to have a discussion,” He coils a tendril of my wet hair around his index finger, “but not until you're ready, Little Witch.”

My gaze fixates on the large flakes of heavy snow falling behind the two expansive arched windows making up a nook for the tub, their tracery thick between the panes of clear glass. I rest my neck on the rolled towel and close my eyes, exhaustion and emotional overload zapping my energy.

There is something about watching it snow while cuddled up in the warmth indoors that makes my heart throb with contentment.

I look away and play with the bubbles tickling the upper curves of my breasts and let the conversation drop completely.

My demon skillfully rinses the shampoo and croons, “Rest, I’ve got you.” Then works conditioner into my hair.

***

His warmth teases my senses awake, surrounding me in a cocoon of safety. Lorcan swirls his index finger slowly in the hollow of my throat, lightly stroking whirls and other unknown patterns onto my delicate skin.

“What time is it?” I ask him groggily and blink my bleary eyes. The bedroom looms around us, one shadow indistinguishable from another. I note the absence of moonlight, only the glittering, inky cloud-free sky meeting my tired stare through the ornate window.

“Almost three. Plenty of time for more sleep…” Lorcan splays his fingers on my lower back. “Or anything else you might want to indulge in.”

Figures. Fucking insomnia. I usually wake around this time each night. In fact, it was close to three when he scolded me for drinking coffee back in my apartment. Longing for the place that was my home, the only thing close to a safe haven I had at the time, sweeps through me. Memories of Gomez and I living our lives pre demons curve my lips in a small smile. “Nearly the witching hour,” I say through a yawn. “Did you get any sleep?”

“I have better things to do than waste the night reliving nightmares,” Lorcan grumbles. With his words, I realize my sleep was inexplicably dreamless, despite the recent torture and all the bullshit from my past haunting my waking hours. I wriggle my body backward into his, my ass rubbing against his groin in the process. Lorcan growls softly in my ear as his cock twitches between my naked cheeks.

“What could possibly be better than sleep?” I ask.

Lorcan inhales but holds the breath in his lungs as if he needs the time to formulate a response. “I was watching your chest rise and fall,” he says through an exhale. “Counting each heartbeat. It soothes a part of me I thought died centuries ago,” he grumbles as if put out by the feeling.

I sigh contentedly, the languid exhale kissing his skin where my head rests on his biceps, then skate my fingertips over the goosebumps rising on his skin. My demon hums and guides my hair—the heavy mass silken from his expert washing and moisturizing hours earlier—away from my neck to the fluffy cloud-like pillow behind us.

Lorcan growls lightly and grinds against my ass while parting my thighs with his knee. His precum covered tip glides against my me, pleasure sparking everywhere it touches, then notches himself at the entrance of my wet pussy. “I missed this,” Lorcan says hoarsely into my neck, and peels his hand from my hip to skate his palm down my belly. I gasp, my core warming pleasantly as he cups my sex possessively and my clit throbs under the heel of his large hand.

This demon is overwhelming at the best of times, but the sweet and sexy way he’s acting now? Catastrophically devastating.

Lorcan leans over my torso, his chest pressing onto my side, then hovers his lips over mine. “The tortuous days you were… gone,” he says brokenly, the rich bass of his voice cracking in places. “I dreamt of nothing but fucking murdering them all, then making you come all over my cock while you’re draped over their corpses.” He kisses me softly, the action in direct contrast to his violent rage filled words.

Lorcan swallows thickly, pulling back and our eyes lock, the same searing lust setting my skin ablaze reflecting in his hungry stare. Tension filled angst simmers between us like the frothing waves of an ocean during a hurricane before we reach for each other with greedy hands.

Taking.

Claiming.

Consuming.

I reach backward and grip the nape of his neck as we kiss, forcing the weight of his sculpted, tattooed upper body onto my awkwardly twisted torso. I don’t give a shit if my spine snaps from the position.

I need him.

All of him.

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