Page 164 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

Ash huffed a laugh, lowering himself just enough to nuzzle her nose against his. ‘I’ve survived worse,’ he teased, before dragging his tongue over the corner of her mouth, the gesture so unexpected that she squealed, squirming beneath him.

‘Ash, stop it!’ she laughed, half-heartedly pushing at his chest, but he only smirked, the wicked glint in his eyes making her stomach twist in ways that had nothing to do with nerves.

She traced her fingers lightly over his skin, feeling the solid muscles beneath, her hand coming to rest over the wound that had nearly taken him from her. Her brow furrowed, worry knotting in her chest. ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Ash stilled beneath her touch, his golden gaze drinking her in, something deep and reverent glimmering in his expression. ‘Not as m-much as looking at you,’ he said.

Mal’s brows knit together. ‘What do you mean?’

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers brushing idly along her bare shoulder. ‘Each time I see you, it’s li-like my chest cra-cracks open and I’m left b-breathless.’

A pang struck deep in her heart. ‘Why?’ she asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

Ash’s lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘Because you are mine. Because I was never t-truly lucky until they f-forced me to an oath marriage. Because I was n-never happy until I met you.’ He paused, his gaze searching hers, waiting—always waiting—for permission to kiss her.

Mal’s heart clenched so tightly she thought she might shatter beneath the weight of it.

She wanted to tell him that it hurt to look at him too. That every time she met his eyes, she felt as though she were standing on the precipice of something vast and unrelenting. That the gods were cruel—so unbearablycruel—to place him in her hands, to let her taste what it meant to be loved, only to wrench it away in the end.

She wanted to tell him all of it.

But she couldn’t.

So instead, she reached for him, her fingers slipping into his hair, pulling his lips back down to hers—silencing him, silencing herself, silencing the truth that neither of them was ready to face.

Mal’s fingers tangled in his golden hair, gripping his horns with the desperation of a woman losing herself in the only thing that still felt real. Ash’s strong hands spread her legs apart, his breath a ragged whisper against her ear before he thrust into her. She gasped, her nails sinking into his back as his movements grew faster, rougher—both of them clinging to the illusion that they still had time.

The doors to their chambers burst open just as Mal’s body trembled, her voice shattering on Ash’s name, pleading, begging him not to stop. He didn’t. His body moved against hers, relentless, desperate, his calloused hand kneading her breast as she turned her head, locking eyes with the intruder who had dared to interrupt them.

Hagan.

The Red Guard’s eyes widened before he spun around and slammed the doors shut, clearing his throat as if trying to banish the image from his mind. But Mal did not stop. She licked the sweat from Ash’s neck, delighting in the groan that rumbled from deep within him as he spilt himself inside her. A smirk played at her lips as she arched an eyebrow at Hagan, silently daring him to speak.

Ash, however, had suddenly remembered he was a drakonian. He climbed off her, gripping a sheet to shield himself from view, his face flushing with an embarrassment thatdid not belong to her kind. Mal made no effort to cover herself, her nakedness on full display, and she was pleased to see the guard’s cheeks redden as he averted his gaze.

‘What is it, Hagan?’ Ash demanded, his voice still ragged with the strain of pleasure and injury alike.

‘I’ve come to warn you,’ the Red Guard replied.

Ash exhaled heavily. ‘About w-what?’

Hagan’s dark eyes flicked towards Mal, his features unreadable. ‘About her,’ he said simply, gesturing towards her as she lazily climbed out of bed, reaching for the white cotton dress draped over the nearby chair. ‘She is lying to you. I heard her plotting to murder you with her brother last night.’

Mal froze.

For a split second, the world stopped spinning. She had felt something last night—an intruding presence in the shadows, a whisper of something out of place. But she had checked. No one had been there. How had Hagan hidden from her? He was Red Guard, yes, but she was a wyverian princess. She was better.

It didn’t make sense.

Ash laughed, a deep, disbelieving sound. ‘Do not be ri-ridiculous.’

‘She mentioned a curse,’ Hagan pressed.

Ash’s amusement vanished. A muscle in his jaw twitched, fury darkening his eyes. ‘That bloody c-curse,’ he roared. ‘There is no fucking cur-curse, Hagan.’

‘There is,’ Hagan insisted. ‘Ask her. She’s willing to stab you in the heart for it.’

The room held its breath.

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