Page 49 of A Heart of Crimson Flames
I feasted on the sight of her smooth muscled skin as she slid her trousers down and stepped out of them.
“I need you,” I panted, and a smile tugged the corners of her lips.
She prowled forward, crawling up my body, lighting up my skin with every inch she touched. She kissed me fiercely, pressing me down into the mattress. Her touch was so different, her mouth more demanding than she’d ever been before, but I relished it. My desire overriding everything else. I needed to be fucked, needed her mouth and tongue and hands, needed her naked and dripping for me so badly I might implode.
My hands dove into her hair and raked down her back, touching her rougher than I ever had before. She let out a little groan of pleasure as she nipped at my lips. I rocked my hips into hers angling myself to rub my clit against the rock-hard muscle of her thigh.
She moved lower, angling herself so her own wet pussy met mine, rocking in rhythm to my own feverish tempo. This headyunion made me moan, chasing my pleasure against her slick sex. Maez broke our kiss to drop her mouth to my hardened nipple. She sucked the peak into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it twice before testing it with her teeth—hard.
I cried out, pain and pleasure mixing in equal measure as her hand dove beneath me to grab my ass and rock me harder against her. I let her take control, moving me in just the way she wanted, her hips jerking against me as her lust drove her wild.
“More,” I moaned and Maez moved, rolling and pulling me on top of her, the hand gripping my ass dropped to my core and she pushed two fingers inside of me, hooking them and massaging my inner walls.
With a cry of pleasure, I pushed back against those fingers as they thrust in and out, taking me faster. My hand slipped between us, and I found her throbbing clit. I circled it with my fingers as she fucked me with her own.
“Harder,” she groaned, and I pushed down on her swollen nub harder than she’d ever liked it before. “Yes,” she panted, grinding against my hand. “Yes. Fuck, Briar.”
Her fingers worked me faster and I gasped, struggling to catch my breath as the pleasure crested in me like a violent wave. Her other hand rolled my nipple in her fingers as she lifted her head from the mattress and claimed my mouth. At the brush of her tongue, the tug of my nipple, the thrusting of her fingers, I exploded.
My orgasm took me by surprise, roaring through me so wickedly that I saw stars. Maez followed after me as I circled her clit, bring her to climax right along with me. Our sweat-slick bodies slid against each other as we moaned in unison—the sweetest harmony.
When we finished, I rolled off her and lay tucked into her side. She didn’t reach for me. Didn’t brush a loving hand down my arm. Didn’t kiss the top of my head. Didn’t tell me I was beautiful or incredible or that she loved me.
The come down from that euphoric high was brutal.
I could embrace Maez’s strength and violence, but I still needed her softness, too. She unspooled me, revealing more of my true self to her, but something still held me back—the hope that we could reverse time, the inability to let go of what we once had in order to form something new. One hand still gripped on to the past. I knew I’d need to release it and free-fall into this unknown to ever truly have all of her again.
A sudden bout of tears welled in my eyes, a knot forming in my throat. I didn’t want to let that hope go. Not at all.
Maez looked down at me with a frown. “Delightful,” she muttered. “Go to sleep, little puppy,” she snapped and shoved off the bed. “You’re not ready to play with this kind of power.” She stalked out the door without even opening it, disappearing in an emerald haze.
I curled onto my side, hugging the pillow into me and sobbed. I knew then for certain—Wolf or no—I was never getting the old Maez back.
Calla
VERENA PROPPED HER BOOTS UP ON THE STONE TABLE, FOLDINGher arms and leaning back in the only chair. Her bone white crown slid back on her head until it rested upon the upholstered velvet behind her. It was far too big. A new one would eventually have to be made. But I had a sneaking suspicion that she was waiting until after the attack on Highwick. It would be bad luck indeed if she had a new crown made only to die a few days later.
The Ice Wolf Queen still hadn’t sat on her throne for the same reason, existing in a constant balancing act between rebel soldier and newfound royalty. I wondered once her claim was cemented and her borders protected, if she’d finally accept her new title fully. I still grappled with mine. Perhaps it would never fully sit right with us. We’d live forever in a state of trying to prove our worth to our citizens and to ourselves.
“Here,” Grae said, stabbing his finger to a point on the map, “is the best point of entry. This end of the castle is all servant’s passageways. No Wolf would stoop to use them, not even the guards.”
“Andwhywouldn’t they guard every exit?” Verena asked. “Especially during such tumultuous times?”
“It’s beneath them,” Grae replied. “They don’t fear human retaliation, nor do they care to protect the humans in their employ.And a Wolf attack is meant to take place on an open field of battle, as is custom. Nero thinks we will show decorum and respect for the Wolf ways, even when he does not.”
Verena let out a long whistle. “Three cheers for Wolf arrogance, I suppose. Only a king would believe he can crush people under his boots and then expect the courtesy of an invitation to their revenge.” She looked around to her advisers who circled the table. “Make note of it.”
One of them began jotting down the details on a piece of paper to relay to the rest of the pack. Grae had drawn a detailed map of Highwick castle from memory—floor after floor with little notes and suggestions of where guards would be stationed. We planned our attack on the castle from every angle. We’d need our Olmderian soldiers and Verena’s pack to be on the same page, having memorized each passage, dead end, and dogleg.
“What is this?” I asked, tapping what appeared to be a window in the center of the third-floor hallway that bisected the western wing.
“That is a portrait that hides a doorway to the library balcony,” Grae said. “A painting of three white stallions being chased by a Silver Wolf. I used to sneak into the balcony and listen as the tutors taught lessons on art and poetry.”
Verena snorted and I shot her a death stare. She held up her hands. “I just wouldn’t think of a Silver Wolf prince as someone who wanted to learn about art and poetry.”
“Hence my need to sneak. It was a nice reprieve from war and politics,” Grae said tightly. “It was also an excellent spot to hide from my sword instructor.”
“Ah.” Verena chuckled. “Now that I believe.”
