Page 23 of What Whispers in the Dark
The moment his mouth touched hers, the moment she leaned into it, accepting him, it fractured the worthless part of himself.
Garrik let his tongue swipe along her lip, let himself enjoy the feeling of warmth there when his encounters had been sosocold.
This was supposed to feel disgusting. Vile. But it … itdidn’t.Not this time. Not with Alora. If anyone else touched him, his body would have felt as if it were under siege. Instantly nauseated and rejecting every minor sensation that feathered across his skin.
But … no. No. This was not the same. He wanted this.
The touch of Alora’s hand … Alora’s lips …
A low hum rumbled in his throat, and he decided he would not conceal it. Not like he did withher.It trickled down his spine, through every fiber of his being, deep through the marrow of his bones, and out his nerve endings. Punching his flesh with a heat he had never experienced before. A slow burn he wanted to be wrapped in.
Starsdamn.Her lips were better than a peaceful dream. Better than soaring on Smokeshadow wings through a star-gilded night sky. Better than breathing. They felt like salvation. Every perfect thing the skies had ever blessed Elysian with.
A groan slipped through his lips, impressed by the amount of control his body displayed because his mind was hopelessly gone.
Before he could convince himself otherwise, his grip unanchored from the tree, as if to test that precious control.Too fucking risky, yet his silvery rings glistened in the torchlight as he cupped her cheek and rested it under her jaw and trembling neck.
Garrik could not stop himself there. Of their own accord, his fingers laced in her gleaming hair, angling her head so he could have a better taste. Marveling at the silken touch, gripping—pulling—her to him with desperation while her lips met his every desperate kiss, stroke for stroke.
So much for control.
He wanted to consume her like she had consumed him.
Every. Damn. Day. Every damn hour.
To the point it was painful in his longing because, after that night, it would be over. There would be no more.There could not be.For a wild moment, he warred with every nerve and bone and primal instinct, needing to practice restraint; otherwise, he would tear into her right there on that forest floor. He almost did. Almost asked his shadows to?—
No. No.
A growl escaped him. He let it rumble through him as he savored every forbidden taste.Needing to be closer—so much closer—he barely felt his wrist rotate, twisting his sword between them before he threw it from reach.
Alora made some sound of approval that emptied his mind of any curses he could muster, emptying it of every thought, even his kingdom and his starsdamned name.
He neededmore.Wanted to wrap himself around her until he did not feel himself anymore but only Alora.
But hewasin control—hewas.This could not go any farther thanthis.No further than a single touch, a kiss?—
His icy hand did not receive the missive, found her other cheek, and cupped it, too. Pulling her even closer as she leaned into him and intensely kissed him back.
Garrik’s heart hammered as she urged him on—almost demanding it. Molding her lips to his as if they were designed for each other. Feverish and heavy and as desperate as him.
There was no containing it. Garrik inhaled her as if she were oxygen. Entering not his lungs but his entire being, as soft noises escaped between her lips that he swept his tongue over.
She invited him in.
TheSavage fucking Prince.She lethimin.
He wanted to scold her for such foolishness, for notthinking, yet only gratitude surfaced.
Alora made a wordless sound, eyes fluttering, edging on the same delirium that mirrored his, as something pulsed between them. Their magic—it was the only explanation.
Just as he had felt the first time she kissed him in his tent when it was only a game for her but … so much more for him. With that solitary taste, he knew he would do anything she asked of him. It set a new rhythm in his heartbeat, and burned on the skin of his chest above it as if he were being marked by one of Thalon’s ink pens.
Without meaning to, he heard it. That hurt and doubt slicing through her mind. A moment he foolishly did not anticipate as the name of her demon tore through whatever thing was surging between them like an inseverable tether.
Kaine.
Like he was not already one thread-thin slip away from losing it, Garrik’s entire being raged to butcher that worthless piece of Elysian shit. Destroy him. Prepared to send his shadows across every hill, and forest, through the charred remains of Telldaira and unleash his darkness. For her, he would.
