A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash Book 2)

The sun was high above our heads, the breeze pleasant, and the sandy dirt and grass warm under my bare feet as I walked willingly toward him.

Hawke.

The Dark One.

Prince Casteel Da’Neer.

Other people waited outside in the courtyard. Jasper was there. Naill and Delano stood behind Casteel, to his left. Guardians were on the Rise, keeping watch, and Vonetta was behind me. But all I saw was Casteel.

He cut a striking figure in all black, possessing the wild and primal beauty that always reminded me of the cave cat I’d once seen. He stood barefoot in the soil reclaimed by Atlantia. And I didn’t think he saw anyone else as I walked forward. He stared at me with eyes luminous even in the sunlight, and an almost startled look etched upon his features as if he were utterly caught off guard. I’d seen that look before, especially when I smiled or laughed. He too seemed unaware of anyone else, even as Vonetta walked ahead and spoke to him. He stared, even as he reached into his pocket and handed her something. And when I let my senses reach him, I felt what I always did from him, except the tartness of conflict was gone, and the chocolate and berries taste was far stronger.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him, not until Vonetta returned to my side and pressed something warm and metallic against my palm.

“The ring. For Casteel,” she whispered. “He had the blacksmith make them.”

I looked down at the gleaming, golden band. There was some sort of inscription on the inside, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

Curling my fingers around the band, I didn’t remember how I got there, but suddenly, I was standing in front of Casteel. He stared at me like I imagined one would if they saw a god standing before them.

“You look…” Casteel cleared his throat as the shadows of clouds drifted over the courtyard. “You look beautiful, Poppy. Absolutely…” His gaze roamed over me, from the braids in my hair, to the diamonds at my neck and then down the fitted bodice to the sheer layers of the skirt that rippled in the wind. A slow grin spread across his lips. The dimple in his right cheek appeared, and then the left. He dipped his head, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he spoke. “Am I seeing things, or is that your dagger strapped to your thigh?”

I grinned. “You’re not seeing things.”

“You’re an absolutely stunning, murderous little creature,” he murmured.

“There’ll be time for all the sweet whispers later,” Jasper said, and when Casteel pulled back, there was a fire in his eyes. “You do look quite lovely, Penellaphe.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“What about me?” Casteel asked, and behind him, Naill sighed.

“You look passable.”

“That was rude,” he replied.

“Would you like to go sit in the shade and nurse your wounded feelings? Like you did when you were young and inevitably injured yourself doing something incredibly stupid?”

Casteel’s brows lowered as he looked over at Jasper. “This marriage ceremony is starting off in a really weird way.”

“True.” The wolven chuckled. “Let’s get this started, because I’m sure you’re more eager to finish the ceremony than you are to start it.”

Casteel shot the wolven a dark look, and I wondered exactly what that meant.

“I need both of you to face me,” Jasper instructed, and then he waited until we did just that. He smiled at me, and my emotions were too scattered to read his, but there was fondness in his gaze. “I don’t know how much you know about Atlantian marriages or how they differ from what is done is Solis, but I’ll walk you through it, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Good. It’s pretty simple. There are no vows. None that are spoken, anyway,” he continued as the clouds overhead cast us in shadows. He briefly glanced up at the sky, raising a brow. “Each of you holds your rings in your left hands and joins your right together.”

Casteel held his right hand palm up as I looked over at him. There was no smile on his face then. Just a certain intent to the set of his lips and in his gaze. Pulse pounding, I placed my right hand in his. The jolt traveled up my arm, and based on the slight widening of his eyes, I knew he felt it, too.

“Lower to your knees. Casteel first,” Jasper said, and he did just that. “Now you, Penellaphe.”

Casteel’s hand tightened on mine as I moved to my knees, our gazes remaining locked.

“Place your rings in the soil between you so that they overlap,” Jasper said, and Casteel placed a golden band, one smaller than the one I held, on the sandy soil. I placed the larger one on top so the openings overlapped.

Casteel knew the next steps. He didn’t look away from me as he picked up the dirt and sprinkled it over the rings. He nodded, and I did the same, feeling the grainy dirt sift between my fingers as I repeated his actions.

Thick clouds gathered above us as Casteel whispered, “This next part may hurt, but only for a few moments.”

Trusting him, I nodded.

“Lift your left hands, palms up.” Jasper knelt before us, and with a brief glance, I saw that he held a dagger—one I’d never seen before. Like the swords the Guardians carried, the blade was gold. “I will make a cut in each of your palms. It will hurt for a moment, and you will do with your blood what you did with the soil. The wound will heal at once, but you both will carry the mark until the union is ended by death or decree.”

I wasn’t sure how a wound of mine would heal immediately. “And that is all?”

“Usually, these proceedings are a bit more drawn-out, but this will be it. At least for the parts I’m involved in.” A teasing glint filled Jasper’s pale eyes. “Casteel will have to fill you in on the rest.”

“I will.” Casteel gave me a quick grin. “Gladly.”

A shiver broke out over my skin as I lifted my left hand, palm up. Casteel did the same as he leaned over, crossing the distance between us. His lips brushed mine as he said, “Just a moment of pain.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I trust you.”

I heard the breath Casteel took, and I knew what that meant for me to say that, for him to hear it.

“Unworthy,” he whispered, and then he kissed me at the exact moment I felt the sharp sting of Jasper’s dagger against my palm. The kiss was as brief as the pain, but so much sweeter.

Casteel withdrew, pressing our hands together, palm to palm. He threaded his fingers through mine as he guided our joined hands to the rings. Air hitched in my throat as I watched my blood—our blood—slide down our palms, to our wrists. A drop and then two fell, splashing the rings.

Jasper was quiet as Casteel eased his hand from mine. He picked up the smaller ring, his right hand still clasping mine. “I’ll put the ring on you, and then you’ll put the other ring on me.”

I nodded.

“Turn your palm up to the sky,” he said quietly. When I turned my hand over, my eyes widened.

The cut had closed, but across the center of my palm was a thin swirl of vibrant gold that shimmered even with the sunlight obscured by clouds. “How…?”

Casteel grinned at me. “Magic.”

It had to be that.

My hand was surprisingly steady as he slipped the dirt-and blood-streaked ring over my pointer finger. It was a little loose, but I didn’t believe it would slip off.

“Your turn.”

I picked up his and held my breath as I fitted it over his finger.

And then I watched in stunned silence as the dirt and blood seeped into the rings. The bands flared an intense gold and then faded, their surfaces now pristine.

“It is done,” Jasper said, rising. “You are husband and wife.”

The day turned to night.

My lips parted as I looked up. The gathering clouds had turned the sky the black of midnight, from the east to the west, to the south and north. Not a single trace of sunlight could be seen, even though it couldn’t be more than an hour or two past noon.

“My gods,” Vonetta whispered.

Casteel rose swiftly, bringing me with him. He pulled me to his side as he stared up at the black sky.

“Is this an omen?” I asked.

“It is,” Jasper confirmed, his voice rough. “I haven’t seen anything like this since…Gods, since your mother and father married. And even then, Casteel, it wasn’t like this.”

Casteel lowered his gaze to the wolven.

“This is an omen. A powerful one.” Jasper shook his head in wonder. “A good one from the King of Gods.” The unnatural clouds started to scatter, and sunlight broke through as Jasper smiled. “Nyktos, even asleep, approves of this union.”

The gold band glimmered in the sunlight cascading through the windows of our bedchamber. Slowly, I turned my hand over. The swirl of shimmering gold followed the line closest to my fingers. I dragged my thumb over the curling line. The heavy dusting of gold didn’t disappear, and I…I couldn’t believe I was married. That I’d gone from being Penellaphe Balfour, to the Maiden, and now, Penellaphe Da’Neer.

“I hope you’re not already having second thoughts. But if so, it’s not going to rub off.”

My head jerked up as Casteel strode out from the bathing chamber. “I’m not trying to rub it off.” I watched him walk around the bed, my heart already tripping in my chest. “And I’m not having second thoughts. I just don’t understand how this is possible—the gold on my hand. How the blood and dirt just…sank into the rings and disappeared.”

“When I said it was magic, I was only half teasing.” He sat beside me, taking my hand. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through me. “It’s the gods. Their magic.” He ran his finger along the mark. “And this is like a tattoo but goes deeper than ink. All married Atlantians have this imprint until their marriage ends.”

“Through death or decree?”

Dark waves tumbled over his forehead as he nodded. “The mark will then disappear.”

That would be a terrible way to discover that someone died. I shivered.

Casteel’s gaze lifted to mine. “Did you not believe in the gods at all?”

I started to say yes, that I did, but it was more complicated than that. “I believed what I’d been taught about the gods by the Ascended. The only magic was the Blessing. Other than that, they were like…silent sentinels who watched over us, and that it was our duty to serve them through the Rite.” I laughed—laughed at myself. “Now when I say that out loud, I recognize how ridiculous it sounds. How blind I’d been.”

“It only sounds that way to someone taught differently from birth.”

“We thought their magic was the Ascension. That the Ascended were proof of that power,” I said as Casteel trailed his fingers to the ring around my pointer finger. I realized something. “It surprised me when you placed the ring on my pointer finger. In Solis, the ring is worn on the fourth finger, but the line the imprint is on is closest to the pointer finger.”

“Clever girl,” he murmured, brushing back the strands of hair that had fallen over my shoulder. “The line in your palm is believed to be the one connected to your heart. That is why the imprint is made there.”

“It’s sort of beautiful,” I admitted.

“It is,” he said, and I could feel his gaze on me. My breath caught. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling all kinds of special,” he added as he skimmed his fingers over the back of my neck and then the delicate chains of the necklace. “It has been several hundred years since Nyktos has made his approval of a union known.”

My pulse skipped. “Not since your parents.”

“So I’ve heard. My father would boast about it. Tell any who listened that the day turned to night when the ceremony was completed. I don’t think Malik or I believed him, but he wasn’t lying.”

“And Nyktos hasn’t done that for anyone since then?”

“Apparently, not. That is good news, Poppy.”

“Unlike the Blood Forest tree that appeared in New Haven?”

“We don’t know if that was good or bad,” he replied. “We just know it was really weird.”

I laughed, unable to help myself, and it felt good to do that. To not fight a laugh or a smile, and to be happy.

That look crossed Casteel’s features again. The one he wore when I approached him before the ceremony. The one he wore every time he heard me laugh or smile. “Why?” Curiosity filled me. “Why do you look like that when I laugh? Or smile?”

“Because it’s a beautiful sound and smile and you don’t do it nearly enough.” A slight flush crept across his cheeks as he looked at my hand. “And every time I hear it, it feels like I’ve heard it before—and I mean, like before I even met you. Like deja vu but different.”

That made me think of what Kieran had shared. “What does heartmates mean?” I blurted out.

Casteel’s gaze returned to mine. “How have you heard of heartmates but not the marriage imprint?”

“Well…” I drew out the word. “You see, you have this bonded wolven that often says very vague, mostly unhelpful things.”

He laughed at that. “He does, doesn’t he? He spoke to you about heartmates? When?”

“A few days ago.” What felt like an eternity ago. “He said he thought we were heartmates, and I thought he was crazy. He didn’t tell me what it meant other than something about it being more powerful than bloodlines and gods.”

“That was vague.” A smile played across his lips. It was a tired expression, but real. I saw a hint of both dimples. “Heartmates is…it’s almost more of a legend than Nyktos giving his approval for a union. Not fable, but so rare that it has become myth.” He toyed with a diamond teardrop as his lashes lowered. “It started at the beginning of recorded time, when one of the ancient deities fell so deeply in love with a mortal that he pleaded for the gods to bestow the gift of long life on the one he chose. They refused, even though he was one of their favorite children. And they refused each and every year, as the one he loved grew older, and he remained the same. Then, when his lover was old and gray, the body no longer able to support life, his lover left to join Rhain, where not even he could travel. Heartbroken, the deity did not eat or drink, and it didn’t matter that the gods pleaded with him. Even Nyktos himself came to this land and begged him to live. He told him that he couldn’t, not when a piece of his soul had left him when his lover died. It was a piece he would never get back, and without it, he had no will. Eventually, he became dust.”

“That’s…that’s really sad.”

“Some say all great love stories are.”

“Some people are stupid.”

He laughed again. “But I’m not finished. The gods realized their mistake. That they had underestimated the capacity for love—of two souls and two hearts that were somehow meant to be joined. They were heartmates. The gods knew they could not bring their child or his lover back, but when it happened again, with another of their children, an ancient daughter who’d had many lovers come and go throughout the years, they relented. When she came to them to ask that her mortal lover be given the gift of life, they agreed, but on two conditions. Both were presented with nearly impossible trials designed to prove their love. If they succeeded, the deity had to agree to be the source of her lover’s life. Her lover would need to drink from her to remain by her side. Of course, she agreed, and they completed their trials. They would do anything for the other half of their souls and hearts.”

My eyes widened as understanding swept through me. “Her lover was the first Atlantian.”

He nodded. “Yes, the elemental line. It happened again and again throughout the centuries. An ancient deity would find their heartmate in a wolven, and they’d complete their trials to prove their love. Some believed that was how the changelings and other bloodlines began. Or, an Atlantian would find their heartmate in a mortal, therefore creating another line once the gods gifted them with life. That kind of love was rare—is still rare. When acknowledged by both, it’s the type that means they would do anything for each other, even die. And heartmates have always been linked to those who have created something new or ushered in great change. It is said that King Malec and Isbeth were heartmates.”

“But if they were heartmates, then why didn’t the gods offer the trials and then grant her the same gift of life they did for the other heartmates?”

“If they had, then the first vampry wouldn’t have been created, and the world…the world would be a vastly different place.” Casteel followed the direction of my thoughts. “But creating life is complex and full of unknowns, even for the gods. They never foresaw Malec being inventive enough to drain Isbeth of her blood and replace it with his in his desperation to save her. But the problem was, they’d already gone to sleep by then and were too deep in their slumber to hear Malec’s pleas.”

“Gods,” I whispered. “That is sort of tragic. I mean, his actions started…all of this. And yes, he was already married, but it’s still tragic.”

“It is.”

“And the gods are still asleep, unable to offer the trials and grant those gifts now.”

“But not too deep asleep to not be aware of what is happening,” he said. “Do you no longer think what Kieran said is so crazy?”

My heart flip-flopped. “I…I don’t know. What about you?”

A smile full of secrets appeared. “I don’t know either.”

My eyes started to narrow, but then something occurred to me. “Wait. There’s something I don’t understand. Malec was a descendent of the ancient deities, right?”

“Right.”

“Then how did he turn Isbeth into a vampry? The other deities—when their heartmates were given their blood, they weren’t turned into vamprys.”

“That’s because the others were not drained of blood. They were given the gift of life by the gods,” he explained. “The transformation is not the same.”

“Sort of like one is sanctioned by the gods and the other isn’t?”

“Sort of.” He shifted closer, dropping his hand to rest on the bed beside my hip. His head lowered slightly, and I allowed myself to read him.

He was feeling a lot of things, one of them I rarely felt from him. It reminded me of what it felt like to sneak into the city Atheneum and find an interesting book, or when I watched the night-blooming roses open. Times when I was content. He was content. He was also wary, and I thought that was for what could come tonight. And he was…he was so very tired.

 “You still haven’t slept. You need to sleep.” I started to reach for him, but stopped, unsure of myself. We were married now. More importantly, it was real—this was real, what we felt for each other. “The Ascended could be here tonight.”

“I know.” He lifted his head. “I will rest, but there is something else I want to do.”

My chest got suddenly tight as my mind went in a completely inappropriate direction.

“We are married. It’s official, except for the crowning, but there is another tradition.”

My throat dried. “The Joining?”

He blinked once and then twice. “I’m trying very hard not to laugh.”

“What? That is a tradition, right? I asked Vonetta about it—”

“Oh, my gods.” He dragged his hand down his face.

“And she said—”

“It’s not about that,” he cut in. “It’s about us. Just you and me, and the tradition of sharing ourselves with one another.”

“Oh,” I whispered, and now my mind was happily playing around in a very inappropriate place. “Like…sex?”

He stared at me. “I really enjoy the way your mind works, but that’s not exactly what I was talking about.”

“Well.” My face heated. “This is awkward.”

Casteel laughed as he cupped my cheek. “Don’t feel awkward. I meant it when I said I love the way your mind works. But it’s a tradition for a couple to share blood after a wedding. It’s not required. Like I said, it’s merely tradition, one meant to strengthen the bonds of marriage. Not doing it doesn’t change anything—”

“But doing it changes what?”

“It…it’s an act of trust.” His hand slid from my face. “It’s a pledge to share everything. It’s mostly symbolic.”

My heart was pounding again, and the bodice of the dress suddenly felt too tight. It was clear that this was something he wanted, even if it was only symbolic. Possibly even something he’d once envisioned himself doing with Shea before…well, before. I felt a surge of anger and pity for a woman who’d been dead for more years than I’d been alive, but it still took a lot for me to push those feelings aside.

“And I know the idea of drinking blood isn’t exactly appetizing to you. So, I understand if you don’t—”

“I do.”

He leaned back, his eyes turning bright. “Is it because you want to or because I’m asking.”

“How often have I done things you’ve wanted, but I haven’t?”

He laughed. “Good point.” The humor faded from his eyes, replaced by a devouring sort of intensity. “If you’re sure. One hundred percent sure?”

“I am.”

“Thank fuck.” He started to reach for me but drew up short. “We need to take off that dress. Netta will have my ass if I return it to her wrinkled.” His gaze lifted to mine. “And I have a feeling it’s going to get very wrinkled.”

So did I.

Pulse thrumming, I stood and reached for one strap. Casteel followed, taking hold of the other. “Are there buttons?”

I shook my head.

“Thank the gods again,” he murmured as he dragged the strap free of my arm. “Because I would likely just give up and tear the thing.”

“You usually have better patience than that.” The dress gathered at my hips.

“Sometimes.” Eyeing the slip, he helped me step out of the gown. “But not when it comes to you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I said as he started to toss the gown. I stopped him. “I’ll take that.”

His lips pursed as I laid the gown on the chaise. He waited for me at the corner of the bed. “I really have a thing for you and little ridiculous straps.” He reached out, placing his hands on my ribs. He pulled the material taut against me. “And your breasts, but they are not ridiculous or little. Regardless, I have a thing for them, too.”

“Thank you?” I said as he walked around me, sliding his hand across my stomach. He laughed, and the sound was part relief and part need. I didn’t need my abilities to know that. I started to reach for the clasp on the necklace.

“Leave it.” He glanced down. “And the dagger.”

My brows raised. “Seriously?”

“When will you realize I speak the truth?” The tilt of his lips was wicked. “It turns me on when you’re armed with something sharp.”

“There’s something so entirely wrong with you.”

He came around to my front. “But you like what’s wrong with me.”

“There is something wrong with me, too.” I looked up at him. “Because I do.”

“I know.” He touched my cheek. “I’ve always known you like that I enjoy when you make me bleed.”

Casteel kissed me and it felt like the first time our lips had ever touched. In a way, it was a first kiss, and Casteel and I had more than one first. With each truth, each change, it was like starting all over again but with all the experience and memories. And kissing Casteel was like daring to kiss the sun. I placed my hands against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt and this—all of this—was another first, because I kissed without once worrying if I should, without wondering if I would regret it. I kissed with abandon, and there was a freedom in that I had never known before.

He pulled me against him, one arm around my waist as his mouth trailed over the curve of my jaw and then down my throat. I tensed with wicked anticipation.

“There are other places, you know? Where I can drink from you.”

“Like where?”

“Places that are far more sensitive than the neck.” He dragged his hand down my shoulder, cupping my breast through the slip. His thumb found the aching peak. “Like here for example. Would you like that? Don’t answer yet. There are other places even more sensitive. More interesting.” He moved again, over the curve of my hip and lower still. He gathered up the silk. “Lift your arms.”

I stretched my arms above my head, shivering as his clothing brushed my newly bared skin.

The slip landed on the floor, and then his hand was at my hip again. My thigh. I closed my eyes as I felt his lips at my neck.

His fingers trailed along my thigh, the ring around his finger cool against my skin. “There’s a vein there, right along your leg, with all these little veins branching off. I’m thinking you’d really like that.”

I shuddered. “Will you do that now?”

“I would, except I’m feeling incredibly archaic right now, and I want the world to see my fresh mark on your throat,” he said. “And if the whole world saw that mark between your pretty thighs, I’d have to then kill the whole world.”

“That’s excessive.”

“I feel excessive, Princess. There’s another place, one that won’t supply that much blood, but I think it will be your favorite.” His hand cupped me then, between the legs, and his thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves, driving me to the tips of my toes. “Right there. I could taste you and feed from you at the same time.”

A sharp curl of pleasure twisted through me. “Sounds indecent.”

“Extremely indecent,” he agreed. “You don’t have to choose. Later, because there will be a later,” he promised, and my chest squeezed, “we’ll try every single one of those places, and you can tell me which is your favorite. What do you think about that?”

“I think…” A breathy moan escaped as his finger slid inside me. “I’m going to enjoy being very indecent.”

“I can tell.” He chuckled against my skin as he moved me backward, his finger moving slowly, shallowly. He guided me onto my back and then withdrew from me. “Both of us will.”

As he moved from the bed, he slowed to kiss the scars along my stomach and then those on my legs. Then he stepped back, standing above me. I was completely on display, wearing nothing but the necklace and the dagger. Shyness crept into me, but I didn’t move to hide anything from him. I let him look his fill.

“Beautiful. I want you to know that. You’re beautiful. Every inch of you.”

Like before, I couldn’t help but feel that way when he looked at me like that.

His hands dropped to the flap of buttons on his pants. “Watch me.”

I watched him undress as I’d done in the cavern. If he thought every inch of me was beautiful, then he hadn’t looked in a mirror. All that sun-kissed skin and lean muscle. His scars weren’t flaws. Not even the brand. They were a map of his strength, of what he’d overcome and a reminder that he’d found pieces of himself.

It struck me then how he could find my skin so flawless. He saw what I saw when I looked at him.

And he had since he first saw me without the veil.

Emotion clogged my throat, and I was half-afraid I’d start crying, but then he moved to me. The hard length of his body came over mine. My senses were nearly overwhelmed by the coarse hair of his legs against my skin, the weight and warmth of his body as he settled between my thighs, the feel of his chest brushing mine, and the hardness pressing at the softest part of me.

He curled his hand in my hair, tipping my head back. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this. To be inside you as I take a part of you inside me. To feel you come around my cock while I taste your blood on my tongue. It feels like forever.”

A shudder wracked my body as I drew my legs up over his. He gasped as the motion brought him closer. I wrapped my legs around his hips and lifted mine. We both made a sound then as he entered me just enough to send a wave of shivers up my spine. Casteel’s head dropped to my throat as his fingers tightened in my hair.

“Then why wait any longer?” I asked.

He didn’t.

His fangs pierced my skin at the same moment he thrust forward. I cried out, caught between acute pain and keen pleasure. I couldn’t breathe or move, even as his mouth closed over the punctures, and he drew deeply, his hips rolling against mine.

And then there was no more pain. Just pounding, relentless pleasure that erupted from deep inside me, and he got what he’d wanted at the start. Release powered through me as I gripped his shoulders, breathed his name as he drank from me and moved inside me, and then—

His hand was at my thigh. He lifted his mouth from my neck, his lips glossy and red. He held the dagger, and in a daze, I watched him drag the blade over his chest. Just an inch or two. Blood welled.

“Drink,” he gasped, lifting my head to his pectoral.

“Drink from me, Poppy.”

It had to be his bite and the feeling of him inside me, of my body tightening around him. There was no hesitation. I kissed the cut, and my mouth tingled as blood touched my lips, my tongue. Warm and thick, it coated my mouth. I swallowed the decadent, lush taste of him.

“Gods.” Casteel shuddered as he held me there, folding his other arm under my shoulder.

There was a burst of vivid colors—blues and purples. Lilacs. Was that the sweet taste of his blood? Was it more? There was a sound in my ears suddenly, a trickle of water—

Casteel started to move again. His blood…it was pure sin and addictive as I imagined the flower my nickname was derived from was. I could drown in it, in the sensations he elicited from me. When he pulled my head back, I started to protest, but then his mouth was on mine, and we were both lost.

There was no sense of rhythm or pace. We were frenzied. The effects of his blood and bite and my blood became madness. Tension built again, coiling deeply, stroking tighter with every deep, plunging thrust of our hips. The pressure spun until it whipped out, rocking me to my core again, and he was right there with me, toppling over the edge and falling and falling.

And he didn’t stop.

He kept moving over me, in me, his mouth gliding over mine. He took me, and I seized him. We were a tangle of legs and arms, of flesh and fire, and the build was slower. Everything was slower as we took our time, acting as if we had all the time in the world, even though we didn’t. And when we were finally spent, we didn’t let go of each other. Not even as he finally drifted to sleep, his arms still tight around me. Not even when I joined him, my cheek resting upon the place I’d once thrust a dagger into.

And that was how we woke hours later, after the sun had set, to the long trill of a songbird. A call that was answered.

A signal.

I sat up, staring into the darkness beyond the terrace doors.

Casteel’s chest pressed to my back a moment before he kissed my shoulder. “They’re here.”