The heavy bolt in place, Aren stalked toward her, his hazel eyes predatory, ever the hunter. Lara stepped backward into the bedroom, daring him to follow. Luring him in because she was not, and never would be, anyone’s prey. Her calves hit the solid wood of his bed, and she stared him down, stopping him in his tracks.
The howl of the wind was muffled now, and over it, she could hear him breathing. Each inhale and exhale ratcheted up her need as her eyes roved over his body, marking the way the muscles in his jaw flexed as he watched her with equal focus.
Reaching blindly for the lantern, Lara turned the flame up high, then set it to one side, her eyes never leaving his. Clasping hold of the sodden bodice of her dress, the neckline clinging to her peaked nipples, she slowly peeled the silk from her body, discarding the garment on the floor. Then she lay back on the bed, resting her weight on her elbows. With deliberate slowness, Lara allowed her knees to fall open.
She watched his control snap, watched as he held his ground only because of the strength of her stare, his desire apparent against the rain-soaked trousers that were all he wore. “Take them off,” she commanded, his low laugh making her skin prickle with the need to have his hands on her once more.
He unbuckled his belt, then hooked his thumbs over it and pushed, the weight of the knife fastened to it dragging his trousers to the floor, where he kicked them aside. This time it was Lara’s turn to catch her breath as she took in the hard length of him, for while she’d seen him naked before, it had never been like this. Her thighs trembled beneath the floodgate of her need to have him, and she nodded once.
In three strides, he was across the room, but rather than pinning her to the bed, as she’d thought he would, he fell to his knees before her. Ithicana—and its king—bent to nothing and no one. But he bent for her.
Aren kissed the inside of her left knee. Then her right knee, lingering on an old scar that ran halfway up her inner thigh. His hands, rough with callouses earned defending his kingdom, caught hold of her legs. And with her quivering beneath his grip, he lowered his face and slid his tongue inside of her.
Her hips bucked, but he held her against the bed, licking and sucking at the apex of her thighs until a moan tore from her lips. She fell back against the sheet, hands reaching for him, pulling at him, but he only lifted his head long enough to give her a feral smirk before sliding his fingers into the spot his tongue had just vacated.
Lara’s back bowed and she grabbed at the edge of the bed, the world tilting as he caressed the inside of her, his mouth consuming her again, the pressure building deep in her core. Lightning flashed as his teeth grazed her and the world shattered, her vision fracturing as waves of pleasure washed over her until she was left gasping and trembling.
Aren didn’t move for a long moment, then with tenderness that broke her heart, he kissed her stomach before resting his cheek against it, her fingers tangling in his hair.
But she wasn’t done with him. Nor he with her.
He climbed over her with the grace of a panther on the hunt. Catching hold of her hands, he pinned her arms over her head, his knuckles digging into the mattress. For a heartbeat, she resisted, pushing against his far superior strength. And then her body yielded. Not to him, but to herself. To what she wanted. Her life had been spent as an unwitting pawn in her father’s machinations, but no longer. Every victory or mistake, every tender touch or fit of violence . . . They would be hers now. She would own them. She would own this moment.
Lifting her head, she kissed him and felt him shudder as she locked her legs around his waist, drawing him down so their bodies pressed together. The kiss deepened, all tongues and teeth, heavy breaths more felt than heard over the rumble of thunder.
The tip of him brushed against her, and Lara moaned into his mouth, her body knowing what it wanted, desperate for him to fill her. She ground her hips against him, gasping as his cock teased inside of her before pulling away.
“Not everything will be on your terms, love,” he growled into her ear. “I will not be rushed.”
“You are a demon after all,” she whispered, but her ability to speak vanished as he released his grip on her wrists and his face lowered to her breast, mouth sucking and teasing her nipple, his hand back between her legs. Her own hands drifted to his shoulders, fingers trailing over the hard curves of his muscles, tracing the lines of old scars and new, then down his spine, relishing the way he shivered beneath her touch.
But it wasn’t enough. She bit at his neck, wanting him closer, wanting their bodies and souls to merge, never again to part.
“Aren. Please.”
He reared back, taking her with him. On his knees, he held her against him, eyes locked on hers as he slowly lowered her onto his length. Head falling back, Lara shrieked into the storm, clawing at his shoulders as he sank into her and then stilled.
“Look at me.”
She did, pressing her cheek against his hand as he reached up to cup the side of her head. “I love you,” he said, his lips grazing against hers. “And I will love you, no matter what the future brings. No matter how hard I need to fight. I will always love you.”
The words undid her, broke her apart completely, then forged her into something new. Something stronger. Something better. She kissed him, long and hard and deep, their bodies rocking together.
Lowering her back to the sheets, he pulled out, then thrust back in with torturous slowness. Then again. And again. With each pounding stroke, their bodies grew slick with sweat. She gripped his hand, her other hand dragging through his hair, down his back, needing to possess every inch of him as her own body tightened, burning, burning toward release.
She would fight for him.
She would bleed for him.
She would die for him.
Because he was her king, and even if it meant assassins hunting her for the rest of her days, she would damned well be Ithicana’s queen.
Release washed over her, violent as the tempest battering her kingdom, and she felt her body’s pleasure pull Aren over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt, howling her name as the room shuddered beneath the onslaught of the storm, then collapsed, his breath ragged pants in her ear.
They barely moved for what seemed hours. Lara curled into the warmth of his arms, her mind drifting as he stroked her naked back, as he covered her with a sheet when the sweat on their bodies began to cool. It was only when his breathing turned to the soft measure of slumber that she lifted her head.
Brushing the hair back from his forehead, she gently kissed him. And because she needed to say it, but wasn’t ready for him to hear, she whispered, “I love you.”
With her head resting against his chest and his heartbeat in her ear, she finally allowed sleep to take her.
34
Lara
The typhoon raged for four days, most of which Lara and Aren spent in bed. Very little of it did they spend sleeping.
Moments outside the bedroom were spent playing cards and peculiar Ithicanian board games, for which Aren was a terrible cheater. Hours of her reading aloud while his head rested in her lap, his eyes distant as he listened, his fingers interlocked with hers. He told stories of his childhood in Ithicana, which mostly seemed to involve avoiding his tutors in favor of running amok through the jungle until Jor chased him down. He told her about the first time he, Taryn, and Lia had raced for their lives on Snake Island, taking turns while their friends watched from boats on the water.