Page 129 of Elysian

A laugh escaped, and I shut the door on her retreating back. Cassiel watched me return to him, head canted a bit to the side.

“They invited us to a gathering for supper. They are honoring you.” I set the boxes on the edge of the bed.

“For being a fool?”

Self-deprecation?

I eyed the smirk on his lips and took hold of the soap to return to running it across his chest. I slid lower, avoiding the thick cleave at his breastbone. It no longer bled so obviously. Continuing around it, I scrubbed the black stained skin. Even with the withering, his length swelled to rise from the water.

“I see that most of you continues to work properly,” I mused, heat rising on my face.

He took my arm that was holding the soap and dragged my hand down with a smile hinting on his mouth.

“There is no existence where I will not be ready for you,” he said huskily. “I would have to be dead.”

He trailed his fingertips over my arm, gentle, gliding caresses that roused goose flesh.

“You should not strain yourself,” I whispered.

“I will not be the one straining, bondmate. Bare yourself.” His husky words left me mute.

He took the soap from my grip. With shaking hands, I reached for the buttons of the dress I wore, slowly undoing the strip down to my waist. It fell open, baring my breasts. I shrugged, and it pooled on the floor.

“We should not be doing this . . .” I said it even as I tossed my leg over the tub and dropped inside.

Cassiel clasped my waist and pulled me before him. I tilted forward into the warm water. Cassiel mustered the strength to grab hold of my hips and drag me onto his shaft. He prodded at my entrance. Trembles struck the bloom in my belly. A hot, needy feeling that only Cassiel had ever kindled.

I rolled my hips, winding down on his knot. Cassiel inhaled and let out a short groan. Water lapped against my breasts as I rolled my hips into a steady pace.

“Does it hurt?” I ran fingertips over the thin spidering lines along his shoulders.

“No,” he said in a husky tone.

He pushed his hips up, thrusting into me. My mouth opened in a gasp, my toes curling. I lowered, hovering over his mouth.

His gaze brimmed with emotion, eyes forming crescents. “I should have loved you from the moment I saw you.”

My channel fluttered around his length, and I sank down until his knot entered. We claimed each other then with frantic touches. So wholly that nothing existed beyond us.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Festivities

Flames spat smoke toward the gaping hole in the cavern’s ceiling. The chamber formed a half-oval, wide enough to hold hundreds. Waylan played a song on his fiddle. The high-pitched notes reached the outskirts where I sat with Vera, Branwen, and Tabby along a rounded wooden bench. A perfect place to sit where there was a view toward the dancing quadrille around the flickering flames.

Bluebloods and redbloods mingled and danced with no reservation between any. Wraithlings ran around the chamber or flew in the air with as much joy as their person.

Any near the edges were there by choice.

This, what I viewed, was true harmony. No barriers between anyone because of their blood.

“But do you?” Tabby asked, “Loathe him?”

I squeezed the tankard of mead between both hands, readjusting myself on the wooden bench. When I first arrived, the three of them continued to eye me until finally Tabby asked me what was wrong. My worries, sadness, and all things Cassiel spilled from my lips.

I mulled over her question, staring into the flames of the bonfire.

“I do not know.” I shook my head, eyebrows furrowed.