Both males held her and slowly began to impale her pussy on Blaise’s cock. She keened. It was unbearable. It was delicious. Her head swam with sensation and emotion, but through her sensual intoxication, she kept her gaze fixed on Blaise’s rigid face. Love seemed to stream from his eyes into her. Morshiel moved again, moaning harshly as he fucked her ass. She felt inundated, filled with all that Blaise was, all that he would ever be.
“I can feel your soul,” she managed brokenly.
“Yes. I can feel it too.”
His hands clutched at her hips as climax tore through her like a torrential wave. Blaise’s cock jerked inside her pussy as he came. Morshiel’s howl of release sounded like a man’s dying anguish and living ecstasy blended.
The pleasure must have been too much to bear because she seemed to lose consciousness for a period of time. When she came back to herself, she had the strangest sensation that she’d fused with Blaise. His scent pervaded her. His somatic movements were hers—breaths blended, hearts thumped as one. Slowly, her world began to right itself again.
She lay draped over him, her bent knees at his hips, her face pressed against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He felt her stir. His hands moved up and down on her bare back, as if to reassure her.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to his heat. “I have no idea what just happened,” she mumbled. “But I love you as well. That much I know. Please don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t,” he said as he stroked her. “Never again.”
Her sublime contentment at his words was shattered by a cold voice.
“Now that was a fascinating display.”
Her head jerked up. She gasped when she saw Aubrey Cane standing there wearing his Roman tunic, a silver knife grasped in his hand.
Chapter Seventeen
“What in bloody hell are you doing, Aubrey?” Blaise roared. “Get out of here!”
“I think not,” Aubrey murmured, his mouth curved in amusement. “The days of me following your every order are finished, Blaise.”
Thank goodness he’d had time to cool inside Isabel. Blaise lifted her off his satiated cock. She looked bewildered. Her cheeks were stained red from arousal, and likely from embarrassment, as well, for being caught in flagrante delicto by Aubrey. She stood next to him.
“Get dressed,” he told her, his voice vibrating with anger. He was going to kill Aubrey for this insult.
“No. It is I who am going to kill you,” Aubrey said.
Blaise blinked. His old friend had apparently been reading his thoughts. He had been thinking the words in angry jest. Aubrey, on the other hand, looked completely serious. The knife glittered in his hand when Aubrey stepped toward him.
“Back away, Isabel,” Blaise said. From the corner of his eye, he saw her take several steps back, her dress draped in front of her.
“Don’t move,” Aubrey snarled when he tried to sit up.
“Are you going to tell me what it is you think you’re doing?” Blaise roared.
Aubrey’s smile alarmed him. “I don’t see why not. It couldn’t hurt. Not now. You see…I orchestrated what happened tonight. My magic made it all possible. I arranged for your greatest enemy to enter your sacred territory.”
Blaise started to rise. The knife flashed.
“If you move, I will throw this knife and kill her. I will not miss,” he said, his eyes flashing at Isabel.
“What do you want?” Blaise grated out.
“I want you dead and Morshiel destroyed. I want to be master of Sanctuary.”
“You’ve gone mad,” Blaise mumbled, not entirely believing what he was hearing.
“Am I? I’ve already seen half of my plan come to fruition,?
? Aubrey said smugly. “Morshiel is vanquished.”