Page 17 of The Nightmare Bride
I paused, but I hadn’t forgotten this morning’s resolution. “Sure. Why not?”
Astonishment flitted across his features—unsurprising, given that I only occasionally said yes. Mostly I said no. But I was getting married tonight, and the urge to mark that transformation rushed through my veins. I wanted Merron to brand me. Not as his, but as...my own. As something uncaged that would now submit of its own accord.
I closed the door behind him and leaned against the wood.
He approached the bed and studied Amryssa’s gown. “This is quite the dress. What’s it doing in here?”
“It just needs some alterations.” I crossed the room and ran my fingers up his spine to distract from the lie.
Merron gathered a breath, turning with it still trapped in his chest. He stared down, his pupils flowering to wide black pools.
“Harlowe,” he rasped.
A smoky sound escaped me. “Merron.”
“It’s been so long.”
It had, and there was a reason for that. “I don’t want to talk. I just want everythingbutthe talking. Do you think we could do that? Please?”
Hunger came alive in his eyes. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
Oh, thank goddess.
He lowered his lips. I tilted my face up to meet him, palming the back of his head, sucking his tongue into my mouth. I wanted heat. I wanted sweat and pleasure and effort, the glorious mindlessness of skin on skin.
Merron’s hands rose to circle my ribcage. I kissed him hard, fervently, and when he released my waist to spear his fingers into my hair, I pulled him down onto the bed atop me.
Amryssa’s wedding dress rumpled beneath us. Merron half-straightened, propping himself on an elbow as he considered the crushed gown with alarm. “What, right here?”
“Yes, here.” I tugged at his gray steward’s jacket.
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
He searched my eyes, gauging my determination, but ultimately gave in. He dove for my mouth again, his hips slotting between my thighs as he fumbled with the fastenings of my dress.
I closed my eyes. This felt...right, somehow, desecrating the symbol of Amryssa’s subjugation like this.
Soon, my red dress lay in a heap on the floor, joined shortly by Merron’s livery, then my corset and underthings. I welcomed him, opening my arms, parting my legs, taking everything he could give.
His sweat mingled with mine as the sunshine cooked us to a simmer. I fell inward, into that endless warm ravine filled with sensation and half-formed whispers. My fingers roved over hot skin and shifting muscle. Merron’s labored breaths scorched my ear as we moved together. Each minute melted into the next.
He finally spent himself with a guttural cry and collapsed on top of me.
I held him for long minutes. I didn’t usually, but today, gratitude shone within me, spilling out in my embrace.
“I might not be able to do this again,” I murmured. “Not for a while.”
He raised his head, his brow pleated. “What? Why not?’
I bit my lip. I shouldn’t have admitted that, but I cared for him. Not in the way he cared for me, exactly, but enough that Iwantedto tell him the truth.
Which I couldn’t, of course.
“Because,” I hedged. “Amryssa needs me.”
What would happen tomorrow, once Olivian discovered my treachery? Whatever my punishment, it probably wouldn’t leave me free to couple with our head steward in the middle of the day. “She’s losing weight, and her mind is getting worse. Which means I need to be with her. Now more than ever.”
