Page 62 of Gilded in Blood

I shrug. “Maybe you got it before you became one.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m not an atheist. I’m not overly religious, but I do believe there’s a God.”

His words don’t match what my brother told me.

I stay quiet, my mind spinning. Nothing about him is adding up.

But right now, lying in his arms, I don’t push. I just let myself stay in this moment a little longer.

I trace my fingers lightly along the cross tattoo on his chest, the raised lines of ink warm under my touch. My mind is spinning.

Could my brother have gotten the information wrong? Maybe Konstantin gave him incomplete details. But that doesn’t make sense.

My brothers are meticulous. They wouldn’t hand me over to someone without doing their own thorough research. So even if Konstantin said something, they would have verified it.

He pulls me out of my thoughts, his hand gently catching mine, stopping my fingers from tracing the tattoo.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice.

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Just… thinking about what you said, about us living in a fucked-up world.”

He watches me for a moment, his eyes searching my face like he can see straight through me.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, voice low. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead, then another to my temple. “Stop.”

I pull back slightly, forcing a small smile. “I’ll try.”

He kisses me again on my forehead. “Go back to sleep,” he says softly.

“I can’t. My mind won’t stop whirring.” I press my body closer to his, needing his warmth, needing him. “Will you help me quiet my mind?”

His arm tightens around me. “What do you need?”

“You inside me.”

He groans, the sound low and rough. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please… Ilya.”

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, then slowly starts kissing his way down my body.

Soft, lingering kisses along my collarbone, between my breasts, down my stomach. Every touch sends little sparks through me.

When he reaches the waistband of my pajama shorts, he looks up at me.

“Lift your hips,” he murmurs.

I do, and he slides the shorts down my legs, taking my panties with them. The cool air hits my bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he looks at me.

He settles between my thighs, pressing a kiss to the inside of one, then the other, before his mouth finds me.

I gasp, my head falling back against the pillow as his tongue strokes slowly over my folds. He takes his time, savoring me, licking and sucking with lazy movements that make my toes curl.

His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as he devours me, taking his time, licking and savoring every inch of me.

When his tongue circles my clit, I moan loudly, my fingers threading through his hair.

He doesn’t rush. He licks and sucks, alternating between gentle strokes and firmer pressure, driving me higher with every pass.