Page 64 of Blood Currents
Marigold
The kiss broke something openinside me.
All the careful distance I’d been holding, all the rational reasons why this was complicated—none of it mattered when Cyrus kissed me like he’d finally stopped fighting what he wanted.
He tasted like desperation and relief, like someone who’d been holding everything in for too long and had finally snapped the leash.His fire magic pulsed against my skin—raw, overwhelming, nothing like the carefully trained control he showed everyone else.
“Mari,” he breathed, rough and unguarded, my name spilling from him like he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
The way he said my name—like it was confession, like it was worship—made my knees go weak.
“I know,” I whispered back, my forehead resting against his.Ididknow.I knew he was unraveling—his mother’s death, his father’s betrayal, the truth about everything he’d been taught to believe.I knew I was still aching from Elio’s quiet withdrawal, from everyone thinking they knew better than I did what I could handle.
And I knew that right now, in this moment, we needed each other in a way that transcended all the careful reasoning that had kept us apart.
“Here?Really?”he muttered against my lips, glancing at the couch, the table, the fireplace.“Where anyone could walk in?”
“I don’t care,” I said, my hands fisting in his shirt.I was tired of hiding and even more of being hidden.The one thing I knew I could count on Cyrus for was brutal honesty.“Do you?”
His answering grin was sharp and wicked.“Not even a little.”
He kissed me again with the kind of intensity that rewrote everything I thought I knew about desire.His mouth moved against mine like he was trying to memorize the taste of me, his hands roaming over my body with reverent desperation.
I arched into his touch, my magic reaching for his in ways that felt as natural as breathing.Silver threads of necromantic energy wound around his golden flames, creating patterns of light that painted the common room walls in shifting shadows.
“God, Mari,” he groaned against my throat, his lips finding that spot just below my ear that made me gasp.“You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I whispered, surprised by my own boldness.
He pushed me back until my legs hit the side of his armchair in front of the fire.
“You remember?”he rasped, his fingers tugging my blouse open fast enough to pop buttons.“The time we made you clean in here?”
Heat flooded my face.“Cyrus—”
“All I wanted to do was stop it.”His eyes burned into mine as his hands slid over my skin, possessive but careful.“Now all I want is to see you like this, on my terms.Because you want me too.”
My answer was to drag him closer, kissing him until I felt his fire spark hotter against my skin.My fingers tugged his shirt free from his trousers.The shirt hit the floor, revealing the lean muscle and scattered scars I’d glimpsed but had never been able to truly appreciate.I traced the line of a particularly prominent mark across his ribs and felt him shiver under my touch.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice rough with want.
He didn’t waste time, stripping away my clothes with rough, efficient movements that still managed to feel deliberate—like he wanted to see every inch of me as it was revealed.The chair arm dug into my lower back as he pressed me against it, the fireplace roaring hotter in response to his magic.
When his mouth trailed down my throat, across my collarbone, lower to the sensitive skin just above my heart, it wasn’t gentle.It was claiming.Each kiss was firm, purposeful, like he was mapping me with heat and refusing to let me doubt what he wanted.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against my skin as he lifted me and set me on his chair.“So fucking beautiful.”
Then he dropped to his knees in one fluid motion, his hands parting my thighs with a command that brooked no argument before his mouth found my core.
My head fell back, a broken sound tearing from my throat as his tongue moved with the same ruthless precision he brought to every fight—decisive, relentless, learning exactly how to undo me.His hands anchored me in place against the table, holding me still like he couldn’t stand the idea of me pulling away.
The fire beside us roared hotter, throwing wild shadows across the walls, but I barely noticed.The door was unlocked, the entire common room wide open to anyone who might walk in, and I didn’t care.Not when Cyrus was between my thighs, devouring me like I was the only thing that had ever mattered.
“Please.”I gasped when I couldn’t take any more.“Cyrus, please—”
He slid two fingers inside me as his tongue circled my clit, ruthless and focused, wringing every sound out of me until I shattered around him.My cry echoed off the stone walls, my nails digging into the arms of the chair for something to hold on to.
When he stood, he was grinning—wide, cocky, like he’d just won a fight.Heat flared through me at the sight of that rare, arrogant smile meant only for me.
