Page 38 of A Crown So Cursed
Considering that, her Gwendolyn’s fingers found and pushed at her canines, as though by sheer force of will, she could coerce them into forming. But of course, nothing happened.
No matter how she wished to, she couldn’t change her appearance at will.
She was still, as previously determined, as mortal as Loc—the age lines forming about her eyes could attest to that. Málik was right. Words and actions were not the same.
He sauntered to the bed, his fingers finding the thorny cloak that Gwendolyn had worn, tracing the sharp points—as though he, too, were thinking the same. But how ludicrous that she considered plucking out every thorn and establishing them in her mouth. How silly a thought, but how desperate she was…
“They will not rest until Lirael has claimed what she believes is owed to her.”
“Well…isitowed to her?”
Málik’s eyes flashed. “How can you ask such a thing?”
“I only wondered if?—”
“I promised her nothing,” he assured. “My heart belongs to you, Gwendolyn.” He came to her then, reaching for her hand, his touch gentle despite the turmoil in his eyes. “I swear to you, no words of love or commitment were ever exchanged between us. Lirael may have coveted the crown, but it was never hers to claim.” Gwendolyn nodded as he knelt before her, taking both her hands in his.
Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at their fingers entwined.
The contrast between his pale, almost luminescent skin and her sun-kissed complexion was stark in the dim light of his room—still more evidence of her mortality…that the sun could burn her delicate, mortal flesh. Even her skin could die…
“I haven’t any clue how to prove myself,” she confessed at last.
His gaze snapped to hers, his ice-blue eyes softening. “I blame my?—”
She saw regret in his eyes. “Don’t,” she said, and she reached out, her fingers touching his beautiful lips. “Wewillfind a way,” she whispered. “I did not come all this way for naught.”
He swallowed, inclining toward her, his lips unerringly finding hers, and bestowing a slow, gentle kiss. Gwendolyn’s lips parted with a soft moan, and their tongues danced together…until she withdrew.
“What of my father?” she pressed. “Can he speak for me?”
Málik shook his head. “Manannán mac Lir is not welcome here, though even if he could traverse the Veil, there is no one who will accept his word when it was his scheming that exiled us to this place.”
Gwendolyn’s hand fell away, a frown creasing her brow, the heaviness of their predicament settling over her like a heavy cloak, suffocating in its weight. She turned her face, and Málik drew her up from the bed, turning her about and wrapping his arms around her waist.
Sighing, Gwendolyn leaned back into his embrace as he nuzzled the soft skin of her neck, his warm breath sending shiver after shiver down her spine. “Do you feel that?” he asked, and his meaning was not lost to her. How could she not?—forsooth. It took her back to another time, before her uncle’s house in Chysauster…before the raid on his village…when Málik held a blade to the small of her back, pressing with intent. A thrilling blend of danger and desire had coursed through her, even as now.
Even despite this situation, she felt an answering warmth between her thighs. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She nodded, pressing herself back against his arousal.
“I have been this way since the moment I laid eyes on your beautiful face. So, it seems… not even the court’s challenge may diminish my hunger for you, love…”
“Málik…”
“I would so much prefer putting this beast to use…”
Gwendolyn purred. “We can,” she said. “Put it to use…worry about this later?” It was more a question than a suggestion. Gwendolyn didn’t wish to confess how desperate she was to feel him atop her, inside her—to know the consummation of so many years spent apart, melded into a single moment of pure, unbridled bliss. His lips touched her ear, his whisper ragged with desire.
“We could,” he whispered, his hands beginning to explore the contours of her body, tracing every line and curve, and Gwendolyn tilted her head back to grant him better access to her throat, feeling the hardness of his desire pressing more firmly against her rear.
With a gentle hand, Málik untied the laces of her gown, allowing the soft silk to slip from her shoulders, and she turned to face him, wanting to see him—wanting him to see the hunger in her own eyes. Their gazes locked as his hands continued their exploration, cupping her half-naked breasts before trailing his fingers down to the curve of her hips, pausing there for a long, delightful moment to feast his eyes on her before walking her back to the edge of the bed and lowering himself to his knees, then pulling her down and her skirts up to place shocking little kisses along the insides of both her thighs.
Gwendolyn gasped with delight.
Blood and bloody bones.
It felt so good to be in his arms…
To feel his touch again.
