Page 146 of The Oracle of Dusk

“You’ve been a very good girl. Are you ready for me?”

“Yes. Please,” she begged, mindless.

He laid her back on the bed and crouched on top of her, one arm outstretched to balance himself. He slid his free hand down to her bud, and with a single slide Aurora saw stars. She dug her nails into his arm and screamed his name like a prayer. As the aftershock sent delicious pleasure coursing through her veins, he slid the rod out of her. He put it aside and grabbed the liquid once more, his movements jerky as he coated his cock.

“Ride me.”

Aurora, shaking mess that she was, scrambled atop his thick body and positioned her trembling thighs above his length. It felt impossible as she pushed down on the thick head of his shaft. But now was not the time for thoughts of impossibilities. Her lust had eroded good sense. She bore down on him, pushing him inside her, needy and reckless. Theron swore.

“So fucking tight,” he cursed. “Slower, Aurora. We have time.”

But she’d reached the end of her tether. Her patience had long since run out. She needed him fully inside her, and she needed it like she needed to breathe. Refusing to give into the sting of pain, she pushed harder, until he was inside her and she was collapsed on his chest, her breaths heaving. She was pinned in place, unable to move.

“T-Theron, I can’t move. It hurts,” she whimpered.

“Stay still,” he groaned. His magic curled around her, finding her hurts and soothing them. “Better?”

“Mmm,” she moaned.

“Just breathe,” he said, panting. “Don’t…don’t move.”

Goddess, she’d never felt anything so alarmingly divine. Cheek pressed to his chest, she could feel his racing heart, the quick rise and fall of his sweat-slicked skin. He burned inside her, hot and hard and gloriously thick. She was lucky he was a healer, for she’d never have been able to take him otherwise. She lifted her hips experimentally.

He gripped her hips in his hand and rocked into her, surprising a gasp out of her.

“Yes?” he asked, desperate.

“Yes!” she cried as he rocked again.

She didn’t have the energy to take him in the way she wanted, so she let him take control of her hips, his rocking turning to thrusts, and his thrusts becoming more powerful the more enthusiastic her cries of pleasure. She scored his chest with her nails, her throat raw from crying out his name. Her mind was gone, her body his, her whole being remade by the pleasure he gave her. When he neared his limit, he ground against her overstimulated bud, bringing her to climax one last time as he pumped his release inside her with a roar.

They lay there, her on top of him, hearts galloping, breaths ragged. Where she ended and he began was anyone’s guess. Aurora was utterly spent. A pleasant, sleepy fog descended on her as he pulled himself from her. She must have fallen asleep, because she woke when he pressed a warm, wet washcloth between her legs and kissed her forehead.

“Hold me?” she asked, her words slurred by sleep.

“Always,” he murmured, pulling her close into his embrace.

Aurora fell asleep to sound of Theron’s heartbeat, a smile on her lips and her heart full of hope.

Chapter 24

TheronwatchedasAurorafell asleep in his arms. The gentle cadence of her breaths and the warmth of the late afternoon sun lulled him into deep relaxation. He’d never imagined Passion would dye his thread. Never could have conceived of a life like the one he now lived. He’d thought he would marry for politics, for his bloodline—for power.

His aunt and his parents had long been at odds over his eventual marriage. His aunt had instilled in him a need to find, if not a passionate love match, then at least a companionable one where emotional and sexual compatibility was given as much weight as political considerations. His parents had predictably told him that a match with a partner was about politics first and foremost, and finding someone he could respect or tolerate was a distant second. Theron hadn’t had the chance to even contemplate marriage until his rebellious kingdom’s nobles had been whipped into shape after his parents’ passings. None could be trusted but Batea and Myrina back then. Once he had the nobles eating from the palm of his hand, he’d turned his mind to marrying one of King Enalos’ daughters and refused to seek out any other. At the time it had felt like Fate was punishing him to make him wait until late in his third decade to take a wife, but it seemed She’d had other plans.

When Myrina had said Aurora was meant for him and he for her, his mind had gone numb as his whole world was turned on its head. Good kings didn’t marry for anything approaching love. Not that what he felt could be called love, surely, but it was there—a whisper of a promise, a seed of what could grow between them. Theron wanted to protect that little seed with a ferocity that surprised him. He wanted to bask in her light, her soft touch, her demanding kisses, her sighs and her smiles. He liked her, craved the way she made his blood heat, wanted more of her mischief, her laughter. Theron wanted all of her.

His wife.

His fated.

She’d gifted him with her eager surrender and fiery defiance in equal measure. He didn’t know which he craved more, but he was looking forward to finding out. Theron hadn’t expected the pleasure they’d shared. In truth, he was shocked she’d managed to take him at all. He’d thought it would be days, maybe weeks, before she could comfortably seat him. To find a woman who shared his inclinations was already rare enough—to find one he could trust was rarer still. He pet her head, her blonde hair like silk in his rough hands. He trailed a knuckle down her forehead, her nose, lips, stubborn chin, enjoying the softness of her skin. She was soft sweetness in one moment, fiery in the next, all teeth and talons. Maybe next time she would gift him another glimpse of the fierce queen, demanding and indomitable. He did so enjoy it when her claws came out.

Theron pressed a hand to the red welts she’d left on his chest. The sting was a medal of honour, the memory of her disobedience, her goading, heating his blood. How had she known that he craved her violence? He’d never before wished for scars, but he hoped she left more of her marks on him.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his rest. Theron sat up and slipped from the bed, getting back into his kilt to answer the door. When he opened it, Myrina was there. He sighed.

“Aunty, if this can wait…”

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