Page 37 of Crown of Light and Ashes
"You really love being heard, don't you,hatun?" he says with joyful disbelief. "You'll think about this every time you walk these halls. So will they. They'll remember how their Shadow Lady screamed my name while I made her come with my tongue."
I should be mortified. Should be planning his slow, painful death for this public humiliation. Instead, I feel strangely, terrifyingly free, as if some burden I've carried for years has suddenly lifted, leaving me lighter than air.
Before I can process this disturbing realization, Kaan is turning me to face the wall, his chest pressing against my back as he kicks my legs wider. I hear him unfastening his trousers, feel the hot length of him pressing against me from behind. I'm still throbbing from my climax, but I want him inside me, strangely even more aroused by our active audience.
"Tell me you want me to fuck you right here, right now," he demands, one hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat to his hungry mouth. "Tell me to thrust my hard cock intoyou, filling you, claiming you where anyone might hear what a perfect slut you are for me."
"Yes," I hear myself say, my voice hoarse but utterly certain. "Yes, I want you. I want them to hear you claim me."
He enters me in one powerful thrust, filling me so completely I see stars. My hands scrabble for purchase against the smooth stone wall as he sets a punishing rhythm, each stroke driving me higher, making me forget everything but this moment, this feeling, this perfect surrender.
"Say my name," he growls, his movements growing more erratic, more primal. "Let them all hear who you belong to, who makes you feel like this."
"Kaan," I gasp, abandoning the last shreds of my dignity. "Kaan, please…don't stop, never stop…"
His response is a growl of pure satisfaction. His thrusts grow harder, deeper, more desperate, his shadows wrapping around my breasts, my throat, between my legs—touching me everywhere at once until I can't tell what's real and what's shadow magic anymore.
I'm vaguely aware of more voices in the corridor, of conversations stopping, of shocked exclamations followed by hasty retreats or lingering whispers. The knowledge that we have an audience only intensifies everything, pushing me toward a second climax that feels like it might break me completely.
"Mine," Kaan snarls against my ear, his control fracturing as his movements grow more desperate. "I own your pleasure now, own every moan, every scream. Say it."
And gods help me, I do.
"Yours," I whisper, then louder as he drives me toward the edge again. "Yours, Kaan. Only yours. Make me come again, please…"
He comes with a roar that surely echoes throughout the entire wing of the palace, his release triggering my own. For endless moments,there is nothing but blinding pleasure, nothing but his body joined with mine, nothing but the perfect unity of our shared climax.
Gradually, reality returns. I'm pressed against a wall in a semi-public alcove, naked and trembling in the aftermath, with the Shadow Lord, my sworn enemy, still inside me. My skin is marked with the imprint of his shadows, my neck bearing fresh bruises from his mouth. And I can still hear voices in the corridor outside, no longer even pretending not to be discussing what they've just witnessed.
What have I done?
Shame crashes over me in sickening waves as the enchantment's effect begins to fade. This wasn't me. This was Banu's magic, making me act on urges I would never normally acknowledge, much less surrender to. And yet... and yet the pleasure was real. The freedom in those moments of abandon was real. The way he made me feel was real.
Kaan turns me in his arms, his expression unreadable as he studies my face with unsettling intensity. For once, there's no mockery in his eyes, no cruel triumph, just a focus that makes me want to hide.
"This wasn't real," I say, my voice hoarse from screaming. "This wasn't me."
He studies me for a long moment, thumb tracing my lower lip in a gesture almost tender. "Wasn't it?" he asks softly. "Or was it simply that you kept it buried beneath duty and vengeance and self-denial? The woman who wants to be worshipped and claimed and owned completely?"
I don't have an answer for that. Don't want to consider the possibility that he might be right—that some dark, secret part of me wanted exactly this.
With surprising gentleness, he helps me dress, his shadows carefully returning my clothing, mending the careful parting of seams so perfectly that no one will know they were ever disturbed. His own clothes are barely disturbed, tunic open at the throat, trousers hastilyrefastened. The contrast between his composure and my dishevelment only heightens my humiliation.
"They'll talk," I say, more to myself than to him. "The entire court will know what happened here."
"Good. Stop denying what you are." His smile returns, though it lacks some of its usual cruelty. "You loved being heard. You were wetter and more eager knowing they could listen to us. Let them talk. Let them wonder what other surprises their new Shadow Lady might hold." He leans closer, until his lips brush my ear. "And let them envy me for having what they can only dream of possessing."
Before I can respond, he steps back, straightening his tunic with casual elegance. "Rest that wrist," he says, nodding toward my now-healed injury with a knowing look. "I expect an even better fight from you tomorrow."
And then he's gone, leaving me alone in the alcove with tousled hair, swollen lips, and the terrifying realization that the line between hatred and desire might be thinner than I ever imagined.
I straighten my clothing as best I can, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the alcove and into the corridor.
I come face to face with Damir, who appears to have been standing guard, trying to disperse the lingering courtiers.
He stands frozen, wearing a look of complete devastation that nearly makes my knees buckle. It's not about this man I barely know, it's the expression he wears, the way his eyes mirror a soul-crushing pain that I've only seen once before. He reminds me so much of Aslan in this moment that my heart seizes in my chest.
"Aslan?" I whisper in confusion, the name escaping before I can stop it.
