Page 125 of A Song of Air
“But why?” she whispered. Her hold tightened on him, like she could rip out the truth from his throat, from his body. “What did he do to you?”
Cassimir’s eyes shuttered and the air changed with menace, danger, and she felt death merging along the horizon and it had nothing to do with the iron in the air.
And when Cass answered, that chill turned to ice and Bryson felt like she would crack and shatter into thousands of little pieces.
“He helped kill her.”
Cassimir spun her out and pulled her back. This time, he left a foot of space between them. His entire body was stiff as he bowed, the perfect picture of princely manners. His crown gleamed on his head, his horns shining like obsidian. That smile of his was feral. Knowing. Threatening.
“I thank you,” he purred. “For the honor of this dance. I believe my brother has need of you.”
She didn’t get a chance to reply before he turned and walked away.
A moment later, she was enveloped in the scent of sweetness and spice. Weylyn’s arms came around her, whipping her around. She could make out the worry on his features up close, the groove in between his eyebrows as he looked her up and down as if searching for injuries that weren’t there.
His gaze zeroed in on her eyes and a muttered curse left his lips.
“Are you alright?” he whispered low. His gaze darted around cautiously.
Up close, his scent made her as dizzy as the powder sifting through her nose. This close, she felt her anxieties and fears fade away. There was no longer the oppressive, cloying scent of the iron and powder. She no longer felt the creepy slide of his brothers’ unwanted touch against her skin.
This close it was just Weylyn and her. Weylyn. Her mate. Her chosen. This close, she felt protected. Her arms came up to rest against his shoulders. She had to stretch because he was so tall, and she enjoyed feeling just a bit delicate next to him, though she wouldn’t ever admit that out loud.
Her fingers played with the skin at his shoulders and slid down, over his chest, pressing against the thumping where his heart beat in a steady rhythm she wished she could match. Her hands went lower still to his waist only to wrap around him and pull him closer.
“Hmm,” she hummed, moving her hips. Pressed this close, she felt every pane of his body against hers. The silver, shimmering material of the dress she wore was practically nothing but a layer of webbing. It did nothing to conceal his warmth. Nothing to hide his arousal as his cock rose beneath his pants and pressed against her stomach.
She felt dizzy at the proximity and felt her body sway.
Weylyn’s hands came down against her own waist. His eyes flashed brightly, and she sucked in a breath.
“Bryson...” His fingers twitched against her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Hmm.” She pressed her hips against him, looking for friction. The warmth of the night air caressed her every inch, twining between her legs. A gush of wetness seeped from her, near begging for his touch. “Dance with me?”
“You’ve been drugged,” Weylyn whispered. His fingers came up to swipe at the golden powder that had been landing in gusts down against her face. “These are Unseelie drugs.”
“Is that why I feel like I’m floating?” She giggled, unable to stop the sound.
So that was why she felt high... high... high.
Her body swayed again, rubbing against him. She tilted her head back and let out a groan. Her skin felt like it was on fire and the only thing that could ease the burn was his touch.
“Weylyn,” she all but whimpered. “Touch me. Touch me, please.” Everything faded away. The music. The bodies pressing around them, dancing with as little inhibition as she felt swirling through her own head. They all moved, powder of all colors shimmering against bodies, pressed against their skin and sticking there.
His fingers came away golden as he tried to rub the magic off.
“Bryson.” His voice was firm. “No.”
Tears pricked her eyes at the rejection, but she only pressed closer, standing on the tips of her toes so their noses touched. She inhaled deeply, wanting him to invade her every crevice.
She hated it before. Hated him before. But now she was alone. Now she needed him. Now she relished in him, in his scent. All the reasons she had protested their bond seemed so far away now. And if she was going to die, then she rather it be drowning in him instead of by the cruel hands of those around her.
It wasn’t fair. A far part of her knew that it wasn’t fair to press this close. To let her lips hover over his own. It wasn’t fair when she might not want him after they left Unseelie. But there was no guarantee of survival.
And Bryson was so very tired of fighting the darkness. And Weylyn was dark. He was chaos. He was everything she tried to avoid but so desperately wanted to give in to. And why shouldn’t she give in? Why shouldn’t she be selfish? Why shouldn’t she want what was fated to be hers?
Her lips skimmed across Weylyn’s, sucking in the soft gasp he let out.
