Page 14 of A Court of Ravens
I stop walking. She stops, too, turning to face me. We’re close. Too close for someone with my level of self-control. Which is to say, none. Her lips are right there. Daring me.
She stands on her toes, tilting her face up, and I swear she knows exactly what she’s doing.
And me? I’m helpless. Doomed. I cup her face, leaning down to meet her halfway.
Her lips are softer than I remember, but there’s a new sharpness to her—teeth grazing my lower lip in a quick nip, a vicious tease that sends fire curling through my veins.
I growl. Low. Hungry. A warning—or maybe a promise. The world narrows to this kiss, this moment. As if nothing else exists. My title, the prophecy, the impossibility of us crumbles under the force of this raw, desperate need.
And then she pulls back. Her lips are swollen, and her breath is uneven. The air between us is charged. Buzzing. Reality slams into me like a hammer to the ribs.What the hell am I doing?She’s not just some curiosity—not a puzzle to figure out. She’s a light in the dark. A spark that could save me or burn me alive. I step back, running a hand through my hair as my stallion bucks inside me, furious at my hesitation.
That kiss wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. If I’m not careful, this will end in disaster for both of us.
She looks at me, confusion flickering across her face, her lips still glistening. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong?Everything. But I don’t say that. Instead, I flash a wicked grin, because gods help me, I can’t stop.
I dip my head and kiss her again.
* * *
Pssst…I went a little feral for the next five chapters in protest of all the ‘purity’ nonsense and pearl clutching. If filthy, hot sex isn’t your thing, you can skip it, but you’re missing a key plot point and some of the best bits in my opinion.
SKIP AHEAD TO CHAPTER ELEVEN
ChapterSix
FELICITY FORREST
“I burn for you. I would burn my kingdom to ash and stay with you forever if I could, but I need you both to live more than I need your love.”
King Cú Chulainn Darkraven to Talora
Imelt into him. Not like butter—oh no, nothing so soft and sweet. It’s more like wax under a blowtorch. Melting, yes, but with the distinct possibility of combustion. My hands clutch his shirt, my pulse hammering hard enough that I swear I can feel it in my teeth.
His scent wraps around me—earth, musk, and something rugged, like a storm rolling in over dark woods. It drags up memories I shouldn’t be thinking about. The dream. The púca. The heat of something wilder than I should want.
But it’s the cedar and smoke that does me in.
Not like woodsmoke, bonfire smoke, thick and clinging, laced with the promise of ruin. It’s the scent of temptation—a hand at your throat, a whisper against your ear, a flame licking too close to bare skin.
I breathe him in like I’ve already surrendered. And like in the dream, the fire isn’t the thing that scares me. It’s the fact that I want to burn.
But now? Now it’s less a dream and more likedéjà vu.
My lips move against his, but my mind is racing—no,galloping—through fragments of memory. Wind tears through my hair. A sinfully dark mane beneath my fingers. A pounding heartbeat that isn’t mine.
It’s not possible. But damn if it doesn’t feel like it is. It feels like…magic, like the kiss has cracked open something inside me.
His hand tightens around my throat, fingers pressing—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to test me. To see if I’ll yield.
He kisses me like he already owns me. Like he knows Iwantto let him. And I do. Gods help me, I do.
Which isdeeplyconcerning for someone who prides herself on independence, common sense, and the ability to walk away from things that cut too deep.
Apparently, I don’t have that ability anymore.
I gasp, and he takes full advantage, his tongue sweeping in like he’s conquering territory. He tastes like whiskey and sin—burning, intoxicating, and entirely too addictive.
