“Lorcan.” She whispered the words since that was all she could manage. “Since when did you become an alchemist?”
“Since you kept recklessly throwing yourself into danger?” He snapped back his hand, and the hem of the nightdress fluttered back down around her hips. “Since I want nothing more in this world than to throw you onto that bed and claim you as mine.”
Her breath hitched. Heat stormed through her chest, and any last remnants of the ice wall she’d built around her heart shattered in an instant. She wanted to be his, she knew, regardless of what he’d done, who his father was, and what that might mean when all was said and done. She just wanted him.
As if his words were a promise, he wrapped his strong arms around her and tossed her onto the bed. Her back bounced against the soft, feather mattress as Lorcan unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the floor. She drank in his every movement, anticipation thrumming through her veins. His trousers came next, and then his tunic over his head.
Heat spread through her core as she took in his raw masculinity. He was already hard and bigger than she remembered. Wetting her lips, she scuttled back on the bed.
“Where are you going?” he murmured, wrapping his hands around her knees and spreading her thighs wide. He leaned forward between her legs and braced his elbows on either side of her hips.
She could not bear to stay still but she didn’t dare move at all. His mouth was agonizingly close to her core, and a sudden wave of need crashed all around her. Softly, slowly, she wound her fingers through his raven locks and tugged him toward her.
With a smile, he glanced up. “Is there something you want?”
“You’re teasing me,” she whispered.
“No, this is teasing you.” His mouth dropped onto the skin just above her navel, and his searing tongue drew a line all the way up to the peaked nipple of her right breast. He pushed the nightdress over her head, and then tossed it halfway across the room. Shuddering, she clung to his hair as he dragged his tongue in a circle and then sucked hard.
“Oh god,” she moaned, arching her back. Heat sizzled between her thighs. She tucked one leg around the back of his hips and tried to tug him forward, but he growled and clasped her wrists between his hands. His mouth continued its long, excruciating tease, from nipple to nipple and back down to her navel again. By the time he dragged his tongue closer to her core, she was a shivering mess of anticipation beneath him.
“Let me ask again,” he murmured, his tongue darting closer and closer to her core, where she could feel she’d begun to soak the bed. “Is there something you want?”
She squirmed beneath him. He was enjoying this, having stubborn-as-hell Reyna Darragh practically begging for his touch. But she didn’t care. She did want him. She needed him, unlike anything else in the world.
“Yes.” She arched toward him again, letting her need consume her. “I need you.”
His tongue dove between her thighs, tasting the sensitive spot between the folds of her core. Shockwaves of pleasure poured through her trembling body, and a moan of pure, raw need ripped from her open mouth. A growl emerged from Lorcan’s own throat, an animalistic roar that matched her need. Suddenly, his tongue pushed inside of her, and then dragged once again across her heat. Reyna’s entire body contracted tight, and then delicious, all-consuming pleasure pulsed through her body, her breath heaving, stars dancing in her eyes.
As her orgasm began to slow, Lorcan inched closer, his aroused length settling between her thighs. He waited, tense with anticipation, his eyes so full of need that it made her own desire rise up within her once more.
“I want you,” she whispered again, and that was all he needed to hear. He pushed inside of her at once, and his groan was like music to her ears. He thrusted hard, once and then twice, and then his pace picked up as a feverish need overtook him. Gasping, she dug her nails into his back, her pleasure rushing up to meet his.
Lorcan buried his face between her breasts, kissing her nipples and then her neck, and then trailing kisses up to her lips. As they crashed together, he gazed at her with adoring eyes, dropping his forehead to hers.
She clung onto his sweat-drenched muscles as a new wave of pure pleasure snapped tight within her, and then began to pulse around him. He followed close behind. Every muscle in his perfect body tensed, and then relaxed, his seed pumping deep within her.
They stayed like that for long moments, bound together. Lorcan leaned down to kiss her shoulder and then slowly settled on top of her body with a gentleness Reyna didn’t know he had.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time,” he said with a contented sigh. “Let’s not wait so long for the next time, eh?”
She smiled. “Maybe don’t capture me for the enemy again, and it won’t be quite so long.”
He chuckled, and the deep rumble of his voice shot new sparks of heat through her core.
“In fact...why don’t we just stay here in my bedchamber forever?”
“That sounds fantastic.” He pushed up onto his elbows and gazed down at her, shifting between her thighs so that she could feel his arousal had already returned to him as well. “But I don’t want to wait forever for next time.”
“I don’t either,” she whispered.
And so he claimed her as his once again.
31
Tarrah
Tarrah Glas thought her eyes would never dry. She would spend the rest of her dreary life crying herself to sleep, only to awake to another dull, endlessly grey day to sob some more. The loss of Teutas felt like someone had carved a hole in her heart with the sharpest blade in all of Tir Na Nog. She didn’t understand how he had been taken from her. He was to be her lover, her husband, the father of her future child.
Together, they were to conquer the Empire of Fomor. They were to rule the world. She pressed a hand against her belly. Now that child would never live. The loss was insurmountable.
Her heart hardened as she imagined the life she would never lead and the child she would never have. The Ruin had taken everything from her.
She didn’t understand why Unseelie had not warned her of the Ruin. Was this some sort of test? Was he forcing her to stare into the face of her faith and to see which way she would fall? Or was Nollaig right? Could Unseelie simply be the god of nothing? Nothing but pain and strife and death.
With tears in her eyes, she knew what she must do. She stormed straight to the throne room where the High King lounged drunkly on his Seat of Power as he had far too often since retaking Findius. He squinted in her direction when she strode inside, but that was the most he could muster.
“Drinking so you can just forget what has happened to your great army?” she asked in a snap. “Well, that won’t change what happened. Two thirds of them are dead.”
Bolg Rothach sighed dramatically. “Go. Leave me be. I have better things to do than get berated by a young girl.”
“No, you don’t.” She squared her shoulders. Until now, she had done her best to show Bolg Rothach as much deference as he pleased. But no longer. Her gentle guidance had not been enough. “As your Champion, I demand an audience with you.”
He sneered, his head lolling to one side. “You cannot demand anything of me. I am your king.”