Page 35 of Astaroth
“Yes, he has. But he’s never had a foolish heart. It’s a very human thing, I think, to become childlike and vulnerable with someone. I’m sure it frightens him.”
“You think I frighten him?”
“No, dear. Losing you, though? I’m sure the idea has him shaking in his boots. You’re not a thing to be had, but you’re something he could lose. Strange, isn’t it? How our hearts can handle one but not the other,” they said, and offered a polite smile before crossing the room to adjust a pinecone on the tree.
Briar sat with that thought—being something to lose. To Michael, he’d been expendable, a thing to be conquered and molded. But ever since he’d stepped foot in Aster’s manor, he’d felt nothing but longing, triumph, and growth. It was an oddity, the concept of healing and actuallyfeelingit. He dragged his fingertips along the wall as he stepped into the foyer. Music chimed through the house and people held quiet conversations in different rooms. Briar stepped into the dining area andscanned the table until he found Aster seated in a chair, cradling a wine glass.
“Hello,” Aster said, as if they hadn’t been arguing minutes ago.
Briar strode across the room and stepped between Aster’s knees, silently asking him to readjust. “May I? Or are you too injured to take my weight?”
“Don’t insult me,” Aster cooed. He snaked his hand around Briar’s waist and guided him onto his lap.
He was mindful of Aster’s wounded side, shifting to sit comfortably with his leg draped over the arm of the chair and his arm curled against Aster’s chest, fingers poised at his chin, tipping his face toward him.
“You’re a brute,” Briar said.
Aster snorted. “Am I? Heaven forbid.”
“You’ll drive me mad, I think. I’m almost certain of it.”
“You’ve already driven me mad.” Aster tilted his head, brushing his nose along Briar’s cheek. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Briar waited for him to ask about Michael, the morning to come, what his decision might be. But Aster took his lips in a gentle kiss and hummed pleasantly.You’re safe,Briar told himself. He held onto that kiss. Safe and free. Safe and loved. Safe andhappy.
When he drew back, Aster cracked his eyes open.
Briar studied his handsome face.
The manor leaned into midnight. Candlewicks snapped, ghosts danced, and the longest night lingered.
Chapter Twelve
Briar woke before sunrise. Aster’s wide chest rose and fell beside him, and silence stretched as dawn crept toward the horizon. After retiring to Aster’s bedroom a few hours ago, they’d made love tenderly, holding each other close, burning touch into memory. Even when Briar had whined post-climax, straining beneath Aster’s weight, the Great Duke had kept him suspended in passion, drawing pleasure from Briar’s exhausted body until he’d finally said, “Stop, Aster. I can’t, I can’t.”
No matter how long they’d enjoyed each other, the solstice ended, and Briar had to face his fears.
Leaving, staying. Giving in, standing up.
Beautiful soreness bloomed around his tailbone. Briar breathed through his nose, watching Aster slumber peacefully beside him. The slightly pointed tip of his ear. Mouth parted and wings unbound, resting lazily on the bed beside him. Copper chest rising and falling. The aura hiding his angelic truth shimmered and jilted, showing the partial outline of another eye on his forehead.
Briar stroked the bridge of Aster’s nose with his fingertip.
“Go back to sleep,” Aster whispered.
“I need to deal with this,” he said.
Aster cracked his eyes open. “You don’t.”
“I do.”
The mighty duke rumbled like an old, cranky stag. He wound his arm over Briar’s waist and tugged. “I won’t chase you, War Angel. But you have a home here.” He paused, brushing his mouth across Briar’s chin. “With me.”
Briar slipped his small hand along the strong plane of Aster’s chest. He tipped his head, accepting the barest kiss. His mouth parted for the hot slide of Aster’s tongue, and his chest lightened as he arched forward, sliding his bare body against every dent and hollow of the demon beside him. They kissed a fever into each other. Briar moaned at the deep, hungry plunge of Aster in his mouth, greedy and wet, tongue rubbing sure and slow against his own. He felt Aster’s wide hand thread through his hair, holding him captive, and didn’t protest when Aster rolled onto his back, hauling Briar with him. Didn’t try to stop him when his palm drifted over the swell of his ass, between his spread thighs, and fingers probed insistently at his hole. First one, then another.
“Go on,” Briar exhaled, pitching his hips, riding Aster’s knuckles.
Aster pulled his hand free and fisted himself, holding still while Briar sank.
