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Oh, to hell with it all.
If this was her most egregious sin, then she’d go to her doom happily.
Her wolf sent tingling bays of confirmation and encouragement to her frozen limbs, urging warmth into her body that she no longer cared to ignore. If they were being forced to play by others’ rules, then she was certainly within her rights to make up some of her own.
Clara turned into her room but left the door open, offering up the unspoken invitation she had no idea whether he’d accept. Would he understand what she was asking? Would he decline out of respect because he was too much of a gentleman to cross that particular boundary?
Only the Moon Mother knew, and Clara was driving herself crazy trying to figure out the mental faculties of another female—a deity, no less—when she hardly had a handle on her own.
Please. Just this once, let me have something for me alone.
Clara barely made it to her dresser across the room when she heard heavy footsteps follow close behind and the soft click of the door’s closure.
He was there, in the room with her. She’d recognize the heavy presence at her back anywhere, even after only a few days. He’d made his mark, and there was no removing it. He’d survived and won the first game for her. Tomorrow would be the second trial, but for now, he was there, and the fact that she’d almost lost him made her desperate to ensure it didn’t happen again.
Chapter 23
Clara lifted her eyes, met Bronze’s gaze through the mirror, and saw a gathering storm reflected back at her. It was a punching answer to any doubt that had still swirled around them in the hall, and she’d be damned if she’d let her analytical mind cough up any more questions.
She needed to feel, not think. Lord knew she’d done enough thinking for a lifetime, and it had nearly gotten them both killed.
“Bronze—”
“Tell me you want this, princess.” He prowled closer to her, never letting his eyes leave hers through the glass.
Before another question could rise up, she swatted the thing away like the pest it was and met his challenge with one of her own. “Tell me you don’t want this, warrior. I think it is, perhaps, something we both need tonight.”
“Not perhaps,” he said sharply. “Absolutely fucking sure. I need certainty from you because I got out of the regret peddling business a long time ago. So I’ll make this crystal clear. Tell me you want my hands on you.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He stepped closer. “Everywhere.”
“Yes.”
“My mouth. Tell me you want my mouth on you.”
It was no longer feet that separated them but the barest of inches. Then his chest bumped against her shoulder blades, and the heat from it nearly incinerated the fabric of her dressing gown.
“Yes.”
“Every—”
“Yes, everywhere. I want all of you, but you must promise me one thing.” She turned around to face him, and they both sucked in a sharp breath when the tips of her rigid nipples scraped across his chest through the fabric of her dressing gown. He didn’t shy away from the contact, and neither did she. The challenges were simultaneously issued and accepted.
A single arched eyebrow was all the answer she would get, and Clara’s wolf growled her lupine approval. This male, with his eyes flashing citrine and a body born of an immortal power so primal it predated predators, was hers to command, to invite inside of her.
“Promise me you won’t stop.”
The declaration hung heavy between them, like an irrevocable oath. For a moment, she feared he wouldn’t accept her terms, that he was too honorable. Then he gifted her with that devastating half-smile that always managed to unravel her, and she knew she’d never be able to forget that grin for as long as she lived.
His fingers tightening on her hips was the only warning she got before his mouth was on hers. They met in a clash of kisses that was so violent, so needy, it could have brought down the stronghold with the force of it.
Her hips writhed in a seeking rhythm against his, searching for the only answer she and her wolf would accept. When the blunt barrel of his sex pushed her farther against the dresser through his trousers, she groaned into his mouth with eager frustration. Yes, this. This was what she wanted. Something larger and heavier than anything she’d ever been allowed to experience. The bruising nature of it didn’t come close to matching any of the curse words she knew, but leave it to her champion to come up with some creative new combinations that had her flushing hot in places he hadn’t yet touched.
“Mages above,” he growled into her mouth as his hands skimmed over the peach-colored silk dressing robe. It seemed he tested every part of her, analyzed every curve, and then doubled back like some studious engineer. Not that she was complaining. Then his fingers curled into the open V neckline and paused, like a roller coaster cresting the top of its first rise before eventually plummeting to the ground.
“Yes. Do it.” She licked a trail of heat down his throat, then slid her tongue into the divot at the base of his neck. His slight jolt made her gasp as well, and it was all she could do to keep her fingers coordinated enough to rip the shirt from him.
