by AJ Nuest
She recognized exactly what desire lingered in her heart, though given Rhys’ predilection for love-making, her doubts were high he spoke of the same thing. “A grand miracle?”
ʼTwas anyone’s guess the escalating potency Gaelloed’s power had achieved in their absence, how sharpened the edge of his magic had grown at her kingdom’s expense. A shiver stole through her body, and Rhys cinched her tighter in his embrace. If the rehabilitation of the dark lord’s appearance echoed the enhancement of his skill, she and Rhys were bound for a battle to test every wit and reason they contained.
“Well, yeah, that too. But I was talking about a long hot bath.” His lips traced a searing path down the side of her throat. He pushed the collar of her dressing gown aside with the edge of his jaw and little sparks tingled her skin as he nibbled the crest of her shoulder. “Some time alone, just the two of us, on the off-chance we can forget about everything for a while except why the hell we’re doing this.”
She smiled. A relaxing soak would surely lead them in one direction, and despite the unfortunate timing, Rhys brought forth a valid point. Untangling his arms from about her waist, she threaded her fingers through his, palm to palm, and lifted the backs of his hands to her lips.
In reigning victorious, how many young lovers would be gifted tender moments such as this? For what more reason could they implore the goddesses’ divine blessing than the endowment of everlasting love?
Clutching his hands to her chest, she curled her fingers more securely between his knuckles. A soft laugh shook her shoulders as he firmed his grip and held on to her just as fierce. So much control lay hidden within his hands. She lowered them back into view. So much potential this world held just beyond his reach.
A flip of her wrists, and she loosened her hold, stroking her fingertips down the calloused landscape of his palms. Given the time and effort he’d expended warping that damnable silver spoon, his magic remained, flowing through his body, and yet he’d experienced difficulty tapping the source.
But, why? She frowned and traced her thumbs along the deep creases bisecting his skin. If her suspicions regarding Gaelleod’s abilities held true, the inhabitants of this world had been fed a jagged lie and magic was, indeed, a part of this realm. So what obstruction stood in Rhys’ way? And, even more vital, what steps, if any, could they take to remove it?
She brought one hand up and held his coarse palm to her cheek. “Tell me.”
The heave of his sigh along her back…the way he dropped his arms and withdrew a pace conveyed he understood exactly what information she requested. But she must know the truth. If only to clutch at any last strands of hope or salvage what small certainties were left them.
He plucked one of the wineglasses from the table and tipped the rim to his lips; his throat shifted as he swallowed. “I can see it.” The burgundy line within his glass angled dangerously near the lip as he studied the wine in a beam of moonlight. “Christ, I can almost feel the vibration of each mineral in this room.” Shaking his head, he pivoted toward the armoire and ambled toward the veil.
The thick sleeves of his robe had been shoved to his elbows, the belt secured in a snug slipknot about his waist. Yet the seams were strained due the width of his chest and shoulders, and the folded collar formed a deep vee atop his smooth, rippling flesh. “When I was in your world, it was like each molecule was a grain of sand. They were loose and easy to manipulate. All I had to do was reach out and scoop them up.” A sweep of his hand through the air and he fisted his fingers before his face.
The slightest tip of his chin, and he squinted at the mirror’s shimmering surface. A low rumble of discontent issued from between his clenched teeth. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he dragged his fingers over his eyelids to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Here it’s like all the sand is stuck together. Like, in order to move one grain, I gotta lift the whole god-damned beach.”
Faedrah’s eyebrow twitched. ʼTwas a true testament to his resilience and the strength of his formidable powers. Despite the odds, the magic he’d labored to summon had been successfully invoked a short span ago. “And the silver spoon?”
“Don’t get too excited.” He dropped his hand to his side. “I found a snag.”
Whatever did he mean? She studied him from the corner of her eye, frowning, and he searched her face before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “An imperfection in the silver. Sorta like…a loose thread in a piece of fabric. Once I noticed it, I was able to pick at the edge until it lifted enough for me to give it a good, hard yank.” He rolled his eyes, sighing. “Only problem is, it took me forever to find it, and no guarantee says Leo’s knife is gonna have that same flaw.”
Indeed. Faedrah crossed her arms, chewing the inside of her cheek. Given the nature of Rhys’ powers, the blade Gaelleod used during his vile ceremony was their most logical target. Once revealed, Rhys must do his utmost to gain control of it, though it was doubtless a treasure Gaelleod coddled and protected above all else. Certainly, one kept free of blemishes and stains.
Nonetheless, they could not afford to dismiss any idea presented them, however trifling it may be. “Perchance such an imperfection could be inflicted upon the silver, allowing you to gain sway over its abilities.”
“Maybe.” Rhys shrugged, returned to his spot near the table and lifted her glass, offering the wine in her direction. “Either way, once we’re at Leo’s, we’d better have our shit locked and loaded. Considering the time it’ll take me, coupled with the shock and awe Leo’s prepping to launch at our asses, I’ll be lucky to get in one clean shot.”
She nodded, lips pursed in contemplation as she accepted the glass. ʼTwas a small flicker of hope in an otherwise bleak situation. Yet if her years under Denmar’s tutelage had taught her anything, a successful war campaign relied heavily upon the element of deception. Mayhap Gaelleod’s preparedness could be exploited to their advantage. They could draw upon his arrogance…do the opposite of what was expected.
Emerge from the shadows when not anticipated. Appear weak where we are strong.
She hummed, running the tip of her tongue along the sharp edge of her teeth. Many factors would be at play during the rite of the dark lord’s incantations. If close enough, perchance one shot would be all she and Rhys required to sabotage the outcome of Gaelleod’s schemes.
Her jaw firmed in determination. If nothing else, they could use what chance remained to wedge a vexing thorn in Gaelleod’s side.
“Then we shall do our utmost to make one shot count.” She tapped the side of her glass against Rhys’ with a light clink.
He huffed, his gaze riveted to hers as he joined her in a hearty swallow, and Faedrah delighted in the mischief caught by the light of Selene’s moonbeams, glinting within the depths of his piercing jade eyes.
“Christ, it turns me on when you get pissed. Come on.” He clasped her hand in his and tugged her toward the far corner of the room, pressed his back to a wooden door and wagged his brows as they entered the privy.
Applying the tip of his elbow to a small switch upon the wall, he flooded the room with bright light.
Faedrah stumbled to a stop. A heartbeat passed before Rhys glanced over his shoulder, and his low whistle echoed about the gray-veined marble denoting the room. Two pedestal steps lead to a large, sunken wash basin, so vast and deep four or more of them could have easily lounged about inside. “Shit, the things I’m gonna do to you in that tub.”
Arousal spiked in her belly. Her imagination ran rampant with all the ways Rhys relished applying his able mouth to her skin.
He leaned over to twist two silver knobs protruding from the wall and water thundered from the spigot. Steam rose into the air like the mists which oft hovered among the high mountain peaks near her home. A quick yank to the knot at his waist, and her brows shot heavenward as his robe coasted down the length of his arms to crumple in a heap near his feet. “Remind me at some point to send Oliver and Jon a big ol’ basket of fruit.”
Faedrah l
owered her chin against a smile, pausing to absorb the measure of her lover’s naked form from the side. The smooth rounded cap of his shoulder tapered to an arm honed by might and years of hard effort pounding steel. A long, fixed ridge flanked his torso, at complete odds with the ladder of eight well-defined grooves which stepped down the tiers of his ribcage. The line of his back dipped inward with a slight curve, dotted by a tempting dimple perched atop the tight flex of his backside. A rope of corded muscle arced down the front of his hip and, beyond, dark hair formed a mouth-watering trail starting just below his navel, and ending in a nest of dense curls which framed his well-hung manhood.
“Enjoying the view?” Rhys cocked a brow and pivoted to fully face her, and his unabashed sexuality ravaged every feminine wile she contained.
A whimper eked from her dry throat. Her palms grew anxious to explore every hard-edged curve; her tongue starved to taste the heady flavor of his skin. Yet whilst she longed to shed the dressing gown preventing her such pleasures, the same warning she’d fought to deny since his enticing invitation, pealed like the strike of the Apex bell in her head.
Numerous passings of Helios’ bright face had elapsed since the time of her womanly course. For her and Rhys to so recklessly lose themselves in throes of abandon could initiate a result neither of them were prepared to undertake.
He seized the belt at her waist, and her hands met his chest as he jerked her against the unyielding tower of his body. “I’m gonna lick every delicious inch of you.” His lips danced near. Her knees all but gave as he dipped his head to skim the tip of his tongue up her throat. “I’m gonna make it so that no matter what bullshit Leo throws at us, you never forget this night.”
A throb pulsed hard and fast between her legs. Her nipples peaked against the soft cotton folds of her robe. The tight cinch of her belt went slack, and her breath caught as the heated caress of his fingers stroked a downward path along her belly. Sweet Goddesses wept, the man kindled the yearnings of her body with more skill than the bard plucked the strings of his lute.
He buried his scruffy cheeks in her hair and her head fell back. Warm tingles sparked and sizzled along her skin. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, relishing the slight sting as he nuzzled the shell of her ear. “Rhys, we cannot.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” His words were clipped, a grating rasp thickened by desire. “Shit, I’d like to see anyone bust in here and try to stop us.”
Her back bowed. The sides of her dressing gown brushed past her thighs to be replaced with the hot press of rigid muscle. “The timing is not right, my heart.” One of his arms threaded about her waist and he yanked her to his hips, his arousal thick and stiff between them. “For us to continue may result in the conception of our heir.”
He froze, yet he did not withdraw from her, and as his deep exhalation warmed her hair, she wrapped her arms about his neck to keep him near.
Water splashed and swirled over the trip of her pulse in her ears. The steady thump of Rhys’ heartbeat instilled a bittersweet ache in her chest. Of all the nights they must abstain this, by far, would be the cruelest…on the eve of impending doom, when all light and love could be forever banished from their worlds.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Faedrah. The thought of being a dad scares the shit out of me.” Rhys pulled back from her, releasing her waist to cup her cheeks in his hands. “And there are a lot of things in this world people can use to prevent pregnancy. Hell, I’m sure Oliver and Jon would move heaven and earth to get us anything we wanted.” He lowered his forehead to hers and Faedrah’s heart leapt as magic glittered and sparked in his gaze. “But when it comes to you, I’m a greedy son of a bitch. You should know that by now. The last thing I want is a layer of latex between us. Not tonight. Not after knowing how fucking good you feel without it.”
He closed his eyes, the fringe of his lashes two dark fans atop his shadowed cheeks. His teeth clenched with such force a muscle spasmed in his jaw, and Faedrah curled her fingers in his hair against the urge to crush her lips to his and let their passions soar toward whatever bliss awaited them…the consequences be damned.
“But I’m not convinced any of that counts for squat.” Rhys blinked and lifted his head. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he swept the ball of his thumb across her lower lip. “Remember that day in the cave? When you told me the best way I could beat Leo was to live life to the fullest?”
An ember flared and burned bright in her heart, and she nodded inside the safety of her lover’s hands.
“Well, I made you a promise that day. What kind of asshole would I be if I let Leo force feed me those words?” He cocked a brow. “So, here it is. You were right, Faedrah. But you were right about more than just me or any guilt Vaighn might be carrying around because of his dad. Truth is, I’m over letting Leo suck the joy out of every fucking second. He doesn’t deserve it. And, god dammit, I’m sick and tired of him always being one step ahead. The buck stops here. Right here and now. With you and me and whatever kids we might make.”
Tears burned, and Faedrah dug her nails into the muscles of his shoulders as the truth of his words arrowed home. She and Rhys had been granted a rare blessing through their bond. One refused the prior descendants of his bloodline.
If the worst were to happen, Gaelleod would one day endeavor to fill her womb with his successor. What better way to circumvent his father’s ploy, to begin afresh and protect them all than for Rhys’ to gift her his true child? Their child, conceived in love, born pure and free of Gaelleod’s ill-begotten curse.
Rhys tucked his hands inside the collar of her dressing gown and urged the sides from her shoulders, and Faedrah released him to let the sleeves tumble past her fingers to the floor. Enveloping her in his strong embrace, he swept a tender kiss across her lips. “As much as being a dad might scare me, I’m not stupid. I get how this might be our last chance, our best chance to hit Leo exactly where it’ll count the most.” He thrust his fingers into her hair, his thumb propped under her chin to ensure she remain devoted to his gaze. “I’m not about to let that rat bastard win. Do you understand me? Not now. Not in the past. And, most definitely, not in the future.”
And neither would she.
His eyes flew wide as she leapt into his arms. Circling her legs about his waist, she held on to her beloved with all her might. A warm tear snuck from between her lashes and traced down her cheek. “I love you, Rhys.” His courage and commitment could ultimately save her kingdom. “More than Helios’ bright diamonds number in the sky.”
He chuckled and palmed the length of her hair, rocking her side to side. “The feeling’s mutual, Princess.” A smack of her bare backside, and she jerked back from him in surprise. “Now no more doomsday prepping. Together, we’re gonna go kick Leo’s ass and then we’re heading back to the castle to get married.”
A smile bloomed, and she shook his shoulders. “Agreed.”
He smirked, yet the devilish curl of his lips did not mask the sharp bite of hunger in his gaze. She released the tension in her thighs and he grunted, jostling her onto his hips.
His pupils dilated. The tip of his tongue skimmed his bottom lip.
With a teasing arch of her brow, she laced her fingers behind his neck and shimmied farther down his torso.
Their centers met, the head of his manhood a delightful pressure prodding her folds, and her internal walls quivered as he dove forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss.
His hips shifted as he strode forward. The solid muscle of his thighs bumped the curves of her bottom as he climbed the steps and lowered them into the bath.
Water eddied through the ends of her hair, tingling her scalp. The heated line rose to tickle the crease of her bottom as Rhys shuffled beneath her, his hands curled behind her knees to keep her straddled atop his hips.
The ridge of his cock slid sleek and smooth along her hidden pearl and she gasped, slapping both hands to his chest. His soft laugh was decidedly evil. The
glint of desire in his gaze, wicked beyond compare. He ran his splayed fingers up the sides of her waist; cradled her breasts in the wide dip between his fingers and thumbs.
A sweep of those calloused digits over her nipples, and they peaked and hardened. Sparks glimmered near the edges of her vision. The water licked and fluttered against her skin. His second taunting caress of her breasts, and a shudder dislodged the set of her shoulders. She slipped her hands behind his neck and wrenched him to her chest.
The angle between them deepened and she writhed, fighting the buoyancy of the water to remain seated against him. Rhys drew her breast into the hot cavern of his mouth. His hands met her shoulders and his hips jerked. Heat expanded low in her belly, trickling into her legs, and she tossed her head, arcing into him.
His low moan shivered the hair on her arms. The enthralling swirl of his tongue sent fireflies dancing down her spine as he nipped and suckled.
Rhys seized her hips; his thighs widened. He forced her knees farther apart, and her muscles trembled as he floated his hand up her inner thigh. His middle finger circled her entrance. His thumb tapped and rubbed her aching bud. She grabbed his wrist to force him deeper, but he resisted.
His other hand rose to the base of her ass. His fingertips teased and stroked her higher, his cheeks hollowing as he pulled her breast deeper into his mouth.
A whimper caught in her throat, and she swayed, setting a mounting rhythm. Her core spasmed as he dipped the tip of his finger inside. “Shit, you’re sexy. I love how I can make you come with just my hands.”
She glanced down to find his heavy-lidded gaze glinting with arousal, his jaw tight and teeth clenched. A furious rap of his thumb and she tensed. The quick thrust and curl of his finger inside her, and a loud rushing built in her ears.
Shimmers ignited and zipped across her skin. She hissed, her arms shaking, her body perched upon the edge as Rhys wrenched his thighs closed and sheathed her onto his rigid member.