Page 102 of Throne of Dreams
Her muscles clenched, tightening around him, gripping his cock while he pumped inside her. “I trust you.”
She felt it then, the stirring of his magic as it reached for her. Silky tendrils of power slipped through her, taking control of her body, leaving her mind untouched. He wrapped her in the velvet of the night as his magic stroked her, fondled her from the inside out. Maeve cried out, the pleasure unlike anything she’d ever experienced. His hips jutted forward, filling her completely, and the windows of the room opened, chilling them with a cool Autumn breeze. Beautiful wings unfurled behind him, and he lifted off the small balcony, taking to the skies.
His wings continued to beat soundlessly as he suspended them between the twin mountain peaks with the glow of the morning sun on the rise behind them. He placed a kiss on her lips, and then her body was arching backward, obeying his every command. Her arms fell away from him as he dipped her further still, intensifying the angle, and clouds of silver sifted through her fingertips. Grasping her hips, he began pumping inside her once more. With each thrust, his magic intensified, teasing her. Taunting her. She could feel the power of him in her breasts and nipples. His magic coursed down her spine and up her thighs, until the force of it centered upon her clit, sliding and stroking so she gasped and screamed his name.
“Fuck,” he ground the word out between clenched teeth, driving himself into her so hard and fast that the burning orgasm ripped through them both.
She cried.
He roared.
And the last remaining stars in the sky shattered, falling down around them like crushed diamonds.
ChapterThirty
Tiernan carried a sleeping Maeve back to the palace, and while he was able to catch a few hours of sleep, his mind refused to let him fully rest.
Tomorrow, they would venture to Kells to defeat the Scathing. But he was no fool. He knew whatever lay in wait for them there would not be easy to overcome. They would have to go to the Moors and enlist the help of the Furies, the wrathful beings who he hoped did indeed answer to Maeve. Then, as promised, they would find Saoirse. There was no doubt in his mind the silver-haired warrior would want to fight alongside them in the Scathing, so putting off trying to find her was out of the question. If she remained in the castle like Merrick said, then bringing Saoirse with them would be the easiest part of their journey.
Once they returned to Faeven, their focus would shift on Parisa’s impending attack against the Winter Court.
Unable to lie in bed any longer, Tiernan dressed and slipped out the door of his room, quietly closing it behind him so as not to disturb Maeve.
It was still early, and he expected half of the palace to be asleep given the previous night’s events, but when he strode out onto the balcony where they usually dined, Lir, Merrick, and Brynn were already there. A basket of rolls with an assortment of jam and a bowl of ripe berries and cream were spread before them.
“Morning, sunshine.” Brynn poured a steaming cup of coffee, then set it down on the table in front of him. “Sleep well?”
Tiernan’s brow quirked.
“Hell of a thunderstorm we had last night.” Merrick stretched his legs out before him and kicked one ankle over the other. He took an obnoxiously large handful of grapes and popped one into his mouth, smirking. “Anybody else hear it?”
“Oh yeah,” Brynn drawled, and her eyes changed colors from their usual golden brown to a shade of mocking blue. “Absolutely raging.”
Lir ducked his head, but there was no mistaking the way his shoulders shook in silent laughter.
Merrick smiled, flashing his dimples. “Sounded like afuckinggood time.”
Brynn snorted and swiftly jabbed her elbow into his side. Merrick cracked up and Lir just shook his head.
Tiernan lowered himself into his chair and met Merrick’s laughing gaze from over the rim of his coffee cup. “Jealous much, Mer?” He took an intentionally slow drink of the scalding liquid.
“You’re fucking right, I’m jealous.” His grin only widened. “Not all of us are lucky enough to find oursirra.”
Brynn tossed an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone who will put up with your bullshit.”
Merrick snorted.
“Moving on from the fact that our king’s sex life is none of our concern,” Lir said, all humor vanishing from his face, “when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow at first light.” Tiernan quickly relayed everything Maeve told him about Fearghal and the Scathing, and was only slightly disheartened to learn Lir had already known all of it. But the consequence of not being the first informed was his own doing, so he let it drop without another thought. “Lir, Maeve, and I will fade to the Moors first in search of the Furies. Then we’ll go to Kells for Saoirse. After that, we’ll move on to face the Scathing and rid it from the continent of Veterra once and for all.”
He twisted the ring he wore on his pinky—the one that belonged to his mother—back and forth. He’d been born to fight. To lead. To win wars and maintain peace. And now, in part due to her death, he’d been gifted the ability to destroy. And so he would. He would destroy Parisa. He’d destroy the army she created and the Court she’d built. He’d destroy it all.
“Ceridwen will be in charge during my absence. Merrick, I want you and your best scouts to unearth any information you can about this new Dark Court and Parisa’s plans.” Tiernan downed the rest of his coffee. “Brynn, I want you to secure the Court and ready our forces. There will be no time to waste once we return from Kells.”
Merrick snatched another roll. “If I leave after breakfast, we should return before dawn.”
Tiernan nodded sharply, then focused his attention on Lir and Brynn. “We need to find a way to protect Niahvess while we’re gone. Our borders are strong and secure, but they are not impenetrable. And until we learn the depth of Parisa’s forces, no risk is too great.”
