Her head fell back, crashing against the fluffy pillows behind her, enjoying the shift of weight off her chest for a moment as his movements distracted her from any thought that wasn’t the praise of his tongue against her. She reached for his hand, resting lazily on her leg, and pulled it toward her breast, squeezing his fingers around her soft skin. He took the note eagerly, desperate to make her feel even a drop of the pleasure she’d drawn from him.
“There,” she gasped as he hit a pace that made the edges of her vision sparkle with the threat of release. She sighed as he found the spot again. His hands squeezed her, giving her everything he could offer as she wound her hips against him. The tension simmered, the space between them buzzing with an energy she’d seldom felt with another partner. There was something so dark about him, so unidentifiable, and it bled into her as she raced toward her intention.
Arcas moaned against her as her cries grew less predictable, less controlled.
“Do not stop, Prince,” she whined, clutching his hand. That sacred space within her opened up, filling with lust and smoke and sapphire stars, shimmering at the edge as she bucked against his mouth. Arcas dug his hands into her body, begging her to give him what he’d worked so hard for.
She broke—splintering from the inside out, bursting against all the lingering guilt and doubt she’d brought into the room. Arcas did not stop until she was writhing in his hands, gasping for breath, and pulling sharply at his hair. He fell over her as she slipped back into her body.
Lunelle pushed him away, too alert to every brush of skin against hers, too sensitive to it. Her chest heaved as she found her breath again, the brazen decisions she’d made since leaving dinner crashing around her.
Arcas rose, snagging her dress from the floor and handing it to her gently.
Lunelle pulled it over her head, not caring to properly adjust the lacings to her soft curves. She stood and planted a hand on the prince’s chest, his eyes wild with all sorts of conflicting ideas.
“So?”
“So?” he echoed.
“Did I sound like you imagined?”
Arcas snorted, adjusting the shoulder of her dress.
“Hmm. I’m not sure. Perhaps I should try again.”
Lunelle glared at him as she pushed his hand away and tapped his cheek with her palm.
“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll let you.”
She made no secret about shoving him toward the door. Her need to be alone—utterly alone—climbed her spine and gnawed at her skin.
By the time she was back in her bed, the rush of his touch was already gone, and she was left once again to contend with the terrifying thought that no matter how intriguing of a distraction Arcas was, it might never be enough.
ChapterThirteen
Sleep would not release her from her misery.
She gave up after an hour of desperately trying to control her breath.
Lunelle swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on a dense pair of wool leggings and a black sweater to ward off the slight chill settling over the courts.
Before she left her room, she plucked a ripe pomegranate off the top of the fruit basket on the desk, tucking it into her cloak.
If she was going to beg a goddess for relief, she might as well bring her an offering.
She was a silent breeze as she quickly cut through the halls, searching for the door Yallara had taken them through. She pushed gently along the walls, waiting for that raised edge she knew would fall into the stairs.
It took three hallways before she finally recognized a painting of a centuries-old Plutonian queen, her gaze fixed on her shoulders as she disappeared into the wall.
It was colder than just a week ago, though Lunelle realized she wasn’t tucked into the middle of a cantering crowd. There was no body heat to buzz against her as she skipped through the near-empty catacombs beneath the city. The occasional creature skittered away from her as she approached, but it was as if she had the entire city to herself at this hour.
Her footsteps echoed against the crystalline cavern, bouncing off bones and glittering stibnite as she wandered down the same route they’d taken before. She hadn’t noticed just how high the ceilings were when she’d been consumed by the crowd, or how hollow the eye sockets of the ever-watching guardians in the walls had been.
When she began her climb to the top of the stairs beyond the city, the echo of the wind whipping outside inspired a quiet dread in her chest.
Maybe this had been a ridiculous idea.
But as she closed her eyes and was met with two floating green orbs, she was reassured that if she didn’t do something—begsomeonefor relief—she was going to make a mess the likes of which might never be untangled.
