Page 148 of Skyshade
He gently removed his fingers, and she was left wanting—but not for long.
She was in his arms in an instant. He kissed her, dragging her swollen bottom lip through his teeth. His lips didn’t leave hers as he ripped her dress off her, seams splitting, buttons flying, until it was just shreds of fabric on the floor. She didn’t even yell at him. All she did was fumble with his clothes, before giving up and turning them to ash as he pressed her to the window. The glass was cold against her spine, and she gasped. Her ankles locked behind him.
Grim didn’t waste a moment. Hands curled beneath her backside, he went in and in and in, and she didn’t know if she would ever get used to the size of him, the feel of him.
“Wife,” he breathed against her neck when he was fully in, his arms trembling with restraint as he waited for her to adjust to him.
“Husband,” she said, right into the shell of his ear.
That one word seemed to be his undoing. He dragged his teeth down her neck as he drove into her in one brutal stroke, slow and deep, reaching a place that was all pulsing nerves. She made a sound she had never made before, and he laughed darkly against her throat. “There?” he said, and she nodded furiously. There. He hit that place again, and she buried her face in his shoulder, digging her teeth into it to keep from screaming.
More—she needed more, and he seemed to sense that, because his strokes became wilder, until he was moving so hard and fast, she didn’t know how the windows didn’t shatter behind her.
He held her close, one arm around her back and the other holding her hip, her sensitive chest dragging against his cold skin.
“I love you,” she said in a quiet gasp in his ear.
“I love only you,” he said. Then, both of his hands gripped her hips, and he took her harder, like he could fuse their very souls together, like he could show her his love with every movement. She clung to him through it all, meeting him stroke for stroke, spine sliding against the glass, their foreheads pressed together and gazes locked, until she clenched, and he cursed. He buried into her in one long stroke, and they crested together, holding each other through the pulsing, blinding pleasure.
Only later, when they were washing off, did he say, “We’re infinite, heart. Never forget that.”
She hoped he was right.
The skies were clear above the winter castle. That would change soon, she thought, as she stared out the windows.
She turned around to find Grim already dressed for battle. He wore sheets of metal and armor, with a sword on his back, its hilt peeking over his shoulder.
He looked like death itself.
She was in lighter clothing, fitted for the role she would play. Grim would be on the ground, with Lynx...she would be in the skies with Wraith.
Her leopard didn’t seem too fond of the idea.
Grim had his instructions. “Look for my sign,” she said.
He nodded. “I’ll be there. So will Oro.”
“Good. She’s more powerful than all of us. We only have one chance at this.”
She went on her toes to press her lips to his. He held the back of her head, fingers weaving through her hair, and kissed her like it might be the last time he ever did. When she finally pulled away and fell back on her heels, she felt breathless and even less willing to leave. But she had to.
They went outside, where a layer of fresh snow coated everything, even Wraith. The dragon flapped his wings, sending frost flying.
Lynx gave him a long-suffering look, which only intensified when Grim walked toward him.
Grim slowly offered his hand to Lynx’s forehead—a truce.
The leopard huffed and turned away.
“Be careful,” Isla said, squeezing Grim’s hand, then looking at Lynx. “Both of you.”
Grim portaled onto the leopard’s back. He gave her one final nod that held all sorts of promises—that today wouldn’t be their last, that they would repeat everything they had done the night before again and again, that they were infinite, and death didn’t stand a chance—and then they left. Isla watched them go, fear and regret clutching her heart.
“It’s just you and me, now,” Isla said, rubbing the place between Wraith’s eyes. They sharpened, as if he could sense battle was coming. Hot breath steamed from his nostrils. Then he leaned down, so she could climb atop him.
She settled in the place Grim had taught her. Curved her hands around the right ridges, and said, “Let’s go.”
An hour before, she had gone to Cronan’s coffin. The portal was invisible, hidden, unreliable. Lark’s power, she guessed, had torn the seam wider, her abilities calling to the otherworld. It, answering. They had fed each other.
