“You need more,” she rasped. Instinct demanded she move once more, but he wouldn’t let her. “I’m going to give it to you so good.”
Sweat dotted his face. “You think because you’ve told me nothing and you’re free of chains that you’re winning against me, don’t you, little harpy?” A husky chuckle summoned fresh goose bumps to her limbs. “Think again. Even when we part this night, I’ll be with you. You’ll carry me in your thoughts, and you’ll ache for me, singed by my stardust. When I said I’d never stop touching you, I meant it.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted, a bit unsteady. “But you’ll feel me, too.” His mark was external; as his gravita, she’d branded him internally.
He kissed her then, thrusting his tongue against hers and stopping any other words. Moaning into his mouth, she ground on him harder, faster. Her wings fluttered, empowering her, ensuring every point of contact elicited maximum pressure. Her nipples rubbed him, the friction turning the already-swollen, sensitive buds into buttons. For climax, press here.
In seconds, Taliyah erupted into another earth-shattering climax, coming apart, burning, soaring, only to crash again, completely enveloped by the scent of his stardust and the light glowing from his pores, suddenly so hungry she thought she might die without a sip of his soul.
He made indelible noises in his throat as he clasped her backside in a punishing grip, forcing her to remain stationary. The hand in her hair pulled, tipping her head, exposing her throat to him. Her pulse leaped, cheering him on. How her heart raced!
Head trapped, she slanted her gaze to him, their eyes meeting once again.
“Flesh and blood,” he said, his tone guttural, almost unrecognizable.
Shivers rushed through her as his eyes hooded, his lashes nearly fused together as she gave an experimental rock of her hips. When he arched his own to meet her, she gasped. He groaned—and unleashed.
Possessed by need, he jackhammered her, and Taliyah—just—exploded. Unstoppable ecstasy invaded every nook and cranny.
He thrust with more force. “So close...”
As she cried his name, she dragged her claws along his scalp. He loosened his hold and locked his fiery gaze on her, the strain he projected unfathomable.
“Give me my prize, warlord. Come for me.”
He obeyed. With a roar that seemed to spring from the depths of his soul, he came on her belly, jet after scorching jet lashing her.
* * *
An eternity passed in silence as Roc fought for calm. What had just happened—
He couldn’t think about that yet.
The moment his riotous heart calmed, he adjusted Taliyah on the mattress and stood. He kept his gaze from her, not sure he wanted to see her expression. Smug, as he’d pretended to be? Vulnerable, as he struggled so hard not to be?
“We need to clean up,” he said, the words flat. He strode into the bathroom. Though he yearned to glance at her, he resisted. Half of him expected the harpy to follow; all of him hoped she didn’t.
At the sink, he washed his face with icy water. The droplets trickled down. He caught a brief glimpse of his reflection and glanced away. He appeared...crazed.
No footsteps sounded to indicate Taliyah fled, yet he sensed her loss, the fever in his veins cooling. Possessive instincts demanded he fetch her now. Self-preservation suggested he stay put. They needed to talk, yes. Their marriage required new rules, obviously. But he should probably calm before they spoke.
Roc showered, the water doing little to ease his mind. Alone, he let his thoughts return to what had happened in that bed. How Taliyah had done nothing he’d demanded. How he’d wanted her anyway. How he’d drenched her in stardust, as she’d drenched his shaft with arousal.
As he’d marked her, sometimes purposely, sometimes unaware, he’d made a shocking discovery. He’d marked himself, too, stardust burning through his resistance.
A dangerous game to continue to play.
But play he would. For twenty-eight days.
He fisted his hands. No matter how much he wanted, needed, wished he could spare her, he couldn’t. Forget the blessing and how it applied to him. A good Commander didn’t curse his men.
Does a good Commander kill his wife?
Roc barely stopped himself from punching and shattering the mirror.
He stomped into his closet to dress in—what? Would he walk with the soldiers this night, hunting phantoms that would provide more misinformation about Taliyah? At least he didn’t have to worry she’d visit the other realm. He’d taken her—No, he hadn’t. He’d meant to take her key.
A curse burst from him, and he jerked on a pair of leathers. Shirtless, feet bare, he flashed throughout the rooms until he found her. She exited a bathroom, and it was clear she’d showered, too. Wet hair framed her delicate face. And she was naked. The key dangled between her breasts, taunting him. Lucky key.
“Where did you go before?” he demanded.