He shifted, and when he thrust this time, he played every string to her deepest pleasure in one fell swoop. A shudder consumed her. He swallowed the tiny mewls that filtered from her throat.
Then, he performed that same sinful stroke again, and she threw her head back with a gasp, a moan. Her arms clung tohis shoulders, hands tangled in his hair, as she met each thrust of his hips with a roll of her own.
“Thaddeus.”
That erotic gravelly groan filled her ears, his cock her body, over and over. He responded to the press of her heels at his back, the desperation in her undulating hips. His mouth devoured her neck, merciless with his kisses and nips.
“Goddess, so bloody perfect,” he murmured below her ear. He found her mouth and crushed her in a kiss that unleashed every ounce of restraint. She fought for grounding as he took to her body as he took to her mouth, pistoning his hips, feeding the friction between her legs, stroking that secret point within her core.
The universe exploded from every direction as he launched her beyond the clouds and straight into the realm of the highest heavens. The fierce throb of each virile contraction. Each crashing wave of delight. She flew so high she never wanted to come back down.
Until the echoing roar from Thaddeus reverberated through her rapture, entwined with the euphoria of her climax, and the bone-melting heat that poured into her sent her soaring higher.
“Storín,mo storín,” he murmured against her ear. His essence surrounded her, cradling her vulnerable mind, protecting her in the moments of bliss while her body shook, her muscles turned flaccid, and a satiated moan fled her lips.
Thaddeus lowered himself to the bed beside her, gathering her limp body into his arms, his chest. She listened to the fervent beat of his heart against her ear, absorbed the rise and fall of his chest with his labored breaths. Enjoyed these tender moments as he smoothed her hair and lazily stroked her back.
Content.
She couldn’t recall the last time a man made her feel like this. Content. Happy. Spoiled.
“I wish I could hold onto the heavens you sent me to,” she whispered, her voice still unsteady, thick with lust. “It was bliss.”
Thaddeus lifted his arm and did some fancy finger work, ribbons of blues and blacks, silvers and golds rising to the ceiling. Rori watched in silent awe as he created a multi-dimensional projection of a stunning night sky, thousands of stars twinkling through cloudy streaks of navy, indigo, and black.
She reached out toward a star that appeared to be within arm’s reach, only to have it lift from her outstretched fingers.
“You’ll know naught less than those heavens. ’Twill be our sacred place. A place you’ll find with me. Alas, as you rest, I gift you a different version of the heavens, but no less beautiful. An essence of tranquility.”
Tranquil it was.
As she settled deeper into Thaddeus’s chest, her eyes grew heavy, her mind satiated but tired. She traced the two scars over his left pec, the source of that cursed rebound spell. She’d discuss it further with Cael, but for now, she wanted to enjoy these precious moments.
For in Thaddeus’s arms alone, beneath his care at her most vulnerable, her soul knew she was safe.
19
Staring up into the spell-projected nighttime sky across the bedroom ceiling, Thaddeus sank into his thoughts. Stifling, despairing, regretful. Digging deep into his past, seeking the moment, the event, that caused him to choose the path he had without considering the future. Alas, to him, his future had been with Daeanna. His world, his life, his existence, it had all revolved around the Seelie princess. The deceitful, selfish princess who he had recklessly followed, adored, worshiped while she had her sights set on another person from the start.
The person who had been his closest friend growing up. Who, despite their drastic difference—he being pureblooded while Shaye had been a cast-out half-breed—held so much in common. Their fathers had been bloodless brothers, both seeking justice and fairness. Both possessing enviable powers and magical capabilities, which made them highly sought components of Dagda’s Council.
Thaddeus’s father declined the position, using his abilities to aid the Fae realms, including the Talaenian realm alongside Shaye’s father.
Until the eve of the ambush. A blitz attack at the far ends of the Talaenian settlements that drew Shaye’s parents out of their peaceful home and to the front line of a vicious assassination. ’Twas the plan, after all. A plan he came to learn decades into his entanglement with Daeanna that had been the seedling that opened her idea of creating a powerful realm of pureblooded Fae while casting out any dilution of the bloodlines.
’Twas also when he learned she had set her eyes on Shaye far before she attempted to lure him into her bed, only to be rejected. Not once, but twice. She confided in Thaddeus long after their affair began that she had set Shaye up to take the fall that eve at the inn as a means of punishment for humiliating her, but he hadn’t known about her means of torture until a short time ago. How…intimatetheir meetings had been.
Still, Thaddeus swallowed that truth because he believed he had meant something to her. Having always been in the shadow of the dark Talaenian Fae—a wee bit smaller, a wee bit softer, a wee bit weaker, a wee bitless—he clung to his position beside the beautiful princess. A coveted woman whom everyone wanted and only a few had the pleasure of enjoying. She treated him as her world when they were together, but he should’ve known ’twas naught but a bloody fucking show. She’d crafted a monster out of him. A weapon at her disposal. A beast who haunted men’s nightmares and sent them scurrying in fear because he had rightfully earned the reputation of being ruthless, callous, cold and emotionless. He cut down enemies before they knew he was even there. He understood torture like he knew the corridors of Dagda’s castle. He had blood on his hands and sins stained into the fabric of his soul. The good, soft-hearted young man from the days before Daeanna had beentwisted and scarred, hardly resembling the man he once was.
’Twas his own fault. For following Daeanna out of sheer gratitude for being on her arm. ’Twas foolish of him, but he had been naïve, and she took advantage of a prime situation. A smart strategy, if he were honest. She saw his potential and used it to make her more powerful. He didn’t regret her aid in enhancing and building his power and magical abilities. He’d evolved into someone who feared naught because he knew his own capabilities and held full confidence in using his magic.
He regretted his inability to see through the smokescreen and baseless promises. He regretted falling victim to her sensuality and beauty. Beauty he could no longer bring to clarity in his mind. Her memory was naught more than a golden haze with undefined features. Her voice naught more than a muffled vibration of sound that hit so many different pitches, he couldn’t make sense of whether ’twas a memory of her or not.
Daeanna had all but faded from his memories, washed away by the woman who lay asleep beside him, fiery red hair splayed over his arm, the pillow, across the creamy expanse of her chest, the mounds of her breasts.
His heart sank further still.
He should have been stronger than to have fallen to his own selfish whims. He should have been the strength for them both, yet he crumbled beneath the desire to know her, to feel her, to learn every fine detail of her while he came as close to claiming her as he could. His hands had never touched her so thoroughly, yet he anticipated each and every curve and dip as if he had created her from a vision of perfection centuries ago. He recognized the finest cut, the supplest mound, the arch of her hip bones, the divot of her bellybutton. Every bloody beautiful inch hummed with familiarity. Sang with righteousness. The taste of her skin against his tongue, the tremors he sensed rippling beneath the surface erased every woman he’d ever lain with.
