Page 61 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
Grabbing Mireithren by the waist, he swung her up into his waiting arms. She was a feather to the muscles accustomed to hard physical labor. A gasp escaped her throat as he pulled her in close. Her lips found his neck, the soft kiss sending a wave of shivers through his body.
He walked to the bed and laid the maiden down, dropping to the floor on his knees. He pulled one boot off, then the other. His fingers trembled as they brushed over the exposed skin of her lower thigh. Mireithren moved to unwrap her leg bindings; Therat tore them off before she could reach them. It took all of his willpower not to tear the rest of her clothes off.
“Do you have any idea how radiant you are?” Therat panted as he spoke, fiery blood swelling in his loins. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, worthy of eternal worship if I could give it.”
“Then worship me,” Mireithren purred.
Therat’s mind dove into a tailspin. He yanked the black skirt down from Mireithren’s hips, soft silk giving way to his hungering touch. Her skin glowed as if the sun itself lit the fires of her soul. She unhooked the half-corset cinched around her waist. The loose fabric of her top pulled off with ease.
The image of his maiden in the night splayed before him forever seared itself into Therat’s memory. Her body was soft and thin, delicate curves cutting the figure of a woman whose beauty could never be denied. Therat leaned his head down and kissed the valley under one protruding collarbone before sweeping across to the other. His lips lingered over her skin—so warm and soft—her sweetness pulling him back for more. Mireithren’s hands tangled through his wild curls, fingernails dragging across his soft scalp. He hissed, the pleasure competing with pain.
“How shall I worship you?” he breathed.
Mireithren reached down and tugged at Therat’s pants. The feel of her hand on his lower stomach sent a lurch through his body. His blood thickened, cock pulsing with fire. He stood and pulled the pants off, fabric ripping with the quickness of his hands. His gaze strayed over Mireithren’s soft curves, every part of his body quivering with excitement.
“Don’t be gentle,” Mireithren whispered, her eyes taking in every inch of the naked man before her.
A hand covered in interlacing tattoos reached up to her throat. “Like this?” he growled. Her breasts trembled with each quake of her chest.
Mireithren nodded, eyes wide. His grip tightened ever so slightly, and a shudder coursed through her body. The Shadow-weave inside awoke, pulled to the surface by the strange look of joy in her eyes. Tendrils of shadows surged forth and wrapped themselves around her neck. She smiled through the gasps.
Therat shoved a hand between Mireithren’s thighs, parting them with no resistance. The slickness of her arousal drew him in; her hips bucked as his fingers circled, searching for the source of her desires. The Song of the Night embraced the two lovers, soft music filling in the gaps between their breathy moans. Mireithren quivered with each passing second. Her hips thrust up, begging for more of Therat’s touch. He closed his eyes and buried his head into her neck, inhaling deeply.
Vanilla.Comforting.
Water lily.Sensual.
Spice.Danger.
Whatever Mireithren offered, Therat wanted it all. Circling her entrance with one finger, he slowly pushed in.
“Gods,” he breathed. “You look fucking beautiful just like that.”
He pushed in deeper, thumb circling her clit. Mireithren squirmed beneath his hand, breath ragged. Therat loosened the Shadow-weave coiled around her neck.
“N-no,” she mumbled.
As if answering on their own, the shadows obeyed Mireithren’s command, wrapping around her neck until each breath struggled to break free. Therat’s cock throbbed as the raven-haired woman with scars on one cheek turned into a puddle by his hand. He slipped a second finger in, pulling an incomprehensible shout from Mireithren.
For five years, Therat told himself the way his heart sang when Mireithren was around meant nothing. But as his fingers felt every squirm, each quake of the fair maiden in the throes of pleasure, the truth could no longer be ignored.
Even as broken as he was, the First Harmonic wove another soulsong to match his own. Aliraes.
My liraes. My siren, be it doom or grace.
Therat could not wait any longer. Pulling his fingers out, he licked them before cupping Mireithren’s scarred cheek. She tasted sweet, slightly salty, but most of all: she tasted like eternal bliss. He wanted to taste every inch of her, but already he felt himself on the verge of losing all control.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking of this moment.” His lips grazed Mireithren’s as he lowered his knees to the bed.
“I know,” she choked out in reply, her eyes challenging him, telling him not to hold back.
He sank into Mireithren, slow at first, gauging her reaction. A moan pushed through the ropes of shadow at her neck, eyes fluttering as he entered her. Her hands snaked around Therat’s hips, clawing to pull him closer. He let himself relax, her soft body melting around him.
Until this moment, Therat never realized being alive could feel so good. Some part of him unfolded, as if these two souls had met before. The way Mireithren held him felt comforting in a way he never thought possible.
Time lost all meaning, ecstasy lighting the air on fire between the two lovers. Therat moaned as Mireithren’s body moved in time with his, her hips gyrating with every thrust. A smile spread across her face, lost in the waves of her pleasure. Her hands ran the course of his body, nails tracing a swirling pattern across his back, down his arms, and over his broad chest. Therat gripped her thighs, the soft flesh of her breasts, pulled her in close by the small of her back.
Someone knocked on the door, a voice calling out for the wine. The shadows around Mireithren’s neck disappeared.
