Page 29 of Cursed Shadows 1

His hand drops slightly, the tips of his fingers dancing over the corner of my mouth—and my core is on fire, a deep ache so painful that I almost whimper.

“Pretend I don’t want to touch you?”

My mouth parts to his touch. He presses his fingers firm against my lips, and I just blink up at him with dazed, stupid eyes.

“Pretend,” he adds, his voice a sudden growl, “that I don’t smell you?”

I shudder with a shaky exhale. Between my legs, I feel that trickle of wetness escape me. I wear nothing beneath the chemise.

Daxeel clenches his jaw—and swallows, hard. It’s not a swallow of nerves, but of restraint, like he’s pulling on every rein he has over his control, fighting hard to not scare me, hurt me, fuck me.

But I do want him to touch me.

Eyes never leaving his, I spread my legs wider—and flick my tongue out over his fingertips. I taste the natural bitterness of his skin.

A deep growl shudders up his chest. It snares in his throat as his lips curl into a snarl and his nails cut into the flesh of my lips.

He always wears his fighting leathers, maybe because he’s in the light lands, but I notice they tighten as his body tenses, as each one of his muscles bolts to his bones.

Whatever scraps of self-control he found deep within himself, he holds onto it with desperation.

“You’re daring,” he says huskily, “even for a litalf.”

I blink at him, feeling his fingertips fall away from my lips, then drag down my bodice. They linger there for a moment before trailing down my middle, all the way to the bunched hem.

He watches me closely. His eyes search mine for any hesitations, any doubts.

I smile something small. “Do you like it?”

Do you like how daring I am with you, dark one? That even through the seduction and games I play with you, that I fear you all the same?

I like it.

He inches his face to mine, moving closer to me on the grass, and his fingertips dance down my inner thigh. Against my lips, his answers is a soft growl, “More than you’ll ever know.”

Then he kisses me.

I don’t gasp against him. I stiffen on the grass, my lashes fluttering to the touch of his soft mouth against mine. For a beat, it’s a still kiss. Chaste and firm.

I know what you’re telling me, dark one.

I know what this means…

My lashes flutter shut. I breathe a sigh of relief against him. And I lean into his declaration.

His groan is tender in answer, and his lips part around my gasp.

A kiss to a dark fae… is to love.

I love you, vicious one.

Unspoken words, found in our shared kiss.

He hasn’t only confessed his love to me in this moment, with this kiss, but he has declared that I am his completely, and that he is mine.

I’m so consumed by the soft flesh of his lips moving against mine, the warmth of his tongue sweeping over mine, that I almost forget about his fingers. How they dance down my inner thigh.

He reminds me of them. Adds pressure to the apex of my thigh, a gentle prompt. Now is the time to tell him no, that’swhat he means with that gesture. Now is the moment to pull my mouth away from his, to clamp my legs shut on him.

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