Page 120 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
A laugh escapes him, rough and real. “Since when do you think I have a choice?”
Those words—so honest, so bare—slice through the last of my defenses. The crack Phoebe created in my fortress expands, growing so wide it all falls apart.
I grab his face between my hands and pull him down to me. Our lips crash together, desperate and hungry. The kiss deepens instantly, his tongue seeking mine as a groan rumbles through his chest. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, closer.
Wind whips around us, stirred by my power responding to the storm inside me. Leaves and grass swirl in a vortex that shields us from the world. Nothing exists but this—his mouth on mine, his body pressed against me, the taste of him filling my senses.
I pour everything into the kiss—my fear, mylonging, my uncertainty. And he takes it all, giving back nothing but acceptance and desire so fierce it makes me tremble.
When we finally break apart, gasping for air, I see the truth in his eyes. There’s no hiding from this, from him. Whatever I am, whatever I’ve done, Vaylen Stormsong is entirely mine.
His hands work quickly, unfastening my leathers with practiced fingers. My own fumble at his uniform, tearing at clasps and buttons, urgent and graceless. I need to feel his skin against mine, need to erase the distance between us with heat and touch and breath.
His hands slide beneath my loosened jacket to cup my breasts. I arch into his touch with a gasp as his thumbs brush over my nipples. My shoulder throbs dully, but I ignore it. The pain is nothing compared to the need building inside me.
Wind swirls around us, tightening our cocoon of privacy as clothing gives way to bare skin. Every inch of him revealed is a feast for my starving senses—the broad planes of his chest, the hard muscles of his stomach, the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband. Those powerful dragon wings tattooed on his chest and spanning to his shoulders. The chain with my mother’s ring dangles from his neck, and I love that he wears it.
I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around his length when he’s finally, gloriously naked above me. His sharp intake of breath sends a thrill through me. I stroke him slowly, savoring the velvet hardness, the way his eyes darken with each movement of my hand.
“Rhea,” he groans, the shortened version of my name falling from his lips like a prayer. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Not yet,” I whisper, guiding him between my thighs. “Not before this.”
When he finally pushes insideme, I cry out, clutching at his biceps. The fullness, the stretch, the perfect pressure… it’s everything I’ve been missing, everything I’ve tried to deny myself. Vaylen’s forehead presses against mine as he holds still, giving me time to adjust, his breath ragged against my lips.
“Move,” I command, digging my heels into the small of his back. “Damn you, Stormsong, move.”
He does, pulling back only to thrust forward again, setting a rhythm that steals my breath. Each stroke drives me higher, pleasure coiling tight at my core. His hands grip my hips, angling me perfectly as he whispers filthy, beautiful things against my ear. How much he’s missed me, how good I feel, how wet I am for him, how he’s dreamed of this for months on end.
My power responds to my passion, wind lifting us slightly from the ground with each thrust, cradling us in a cushion of air. Vaylen’s eyes widen in surprise before darkening with renewed desire.
He drives deeper into me, claiming me completely. I hook one leg higher around his waist, gasping as he hits that perfect spot inside me. My injured shoulder forgotten, I arch up to meet each powerful thrust.
“Look at me,” Vaylen commands, his voice husky with need.
I open my eyes to find his intense blue gaze locked on mine. The raw emotion there—desire, possession, vulnerability—steals my breath more effectively than his body moving inside mine.
“Don’t you dare look away,” he growls, punctuating each word with a thrust that sends sparks shooting through me. “I want to see you come undone.”
I dig my nails into his forearms, leaving crescent marks onhis skin. “Make me,” I challenge, my voice breaking as pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.
His rhythm falters just for a moment before he captures my mouth in a bruising kiss. One hand slides between us, finding the sensitive bud at my center and circling with perfect pressure.
“Come for me, Rhealyn,” he whispers against my lips. “Now.”
My body obeys instantly, clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash through me. The wind cocoon contracts violently, leaves and grass swirling faster as I cry out his name into the dawn air.
Vaylen follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself deep inside me. For those perfect moments, we’re one being—no secrets, no fears, no missing memories between us.
He pulls out, and we lie tangled together, my back against Vaylen’s chest as his arms encircle me. Satisfaction hums through my body, muscles loose and warm beneath his touch.
“I’d forgotten what this feels like,” I whisper, tracing the veins on his forearm, and the scratches I left there.
But even as contentment wraps around me like a blanket, something dark lurks at the edges of my mind. The King’s orders. The sleeping dragon beneath stone. The eggs. I haven’t told Vaylen about any of it.
Goddess!What if I became someone else while I was gone? What if whoever that is would have willingly allied with Tahranis and Craven Stonefall? Two men that every instinct tells me I shouldn’t trust. What if that is really my destiny for the good of Embernia?
I press closer to Vaylen, stealing his warmth while I can. Sometimes pleasure is just another way to hide from the truth.
