CHAPTER 42
take a bite of the lavender cake, and its sweetness melts on my tongue, with a hint of floral flavor. “Do you want some cake?”I “It’s all yours.” He’s already lying on the floor.
While I eat, I glance out the window again, and my heart skips a beat.
Silver Fox is staring right up at me, peering through a spyglass. “Raphael,” I say quietly, “why are Caradoc’s guards spying on us?”
“What?” He leaps to his feet and joins me at the window. “Step back a bit.”
“They can’t see us in the dark, can they?”
Raphael shakes his head slowly. “No, but maybe that’s the problem. They know honeymooners are staying here. We’ve had the lights off the entire night, which might be a bit weird. Look like you’re getting ready for bed.
We’re going to need to add a bit of realism.”
I drop the spyglass, and Raphael lights the candle. I turn away from the window and pull off the dress I’ve been wearing all day. I’m wearing a silky camisole and underwear beneath it. The air is absolutely frozen in here, and goosebumps rise on my arms.
Raphael turns to look at me, and his silver eyes burn like cold flames. He crosses over to me and presses his hands on either side of my head, against the glass. Heat from his body warms my skin, and his gaze lowers to stare at my lips. “I’m going to need to kiss you.”
“For realism,” I whisper.
He brushes his thumb over my lower lip. “For the mission.”
“For England.”
He presses his lips against mine, claiming my mouth. There’s hunger in his kiss, and molten desire slides through my belly. He reaches under my ass, lifting me up to rest on the windowsill, and his kiss deepens. I run my hands down his abs, even though I don’t think Silver Fox can see the movement.
Raphael threads his fingers into my hair, and I wrap my legs around him.
As his fingers tighten in my hair, he pulls my head back, kissing me more deeply. He presses between my thighs, and I feel him growing harder. My hips roll against him. He smells like rainwater and musk, and I can no longer remember exactly what we’re doing here, only that I ache for him, and I have since the first time he kissed me. A thrill shakes me to my core.
He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes heated, breath heavy. One of his hands is still on my ass, the other in my hair. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a
long time.”
“But it’s not allowed,” I whisper.
He looks half in a trance and shakes his head.
“And Ginevra?” I ask casually. “She was coming out of your room, and
you weren’t wearing a shirt.”
His eyebrows rise. “When was that?”
“When you got me my new wardrobe.”
He hasn’t released me from the windowsill yet, and his fingers flex slightly on my ass. “That was six months ago.”
I shrug. “You remembered the cake from six months ago.”
The candlelight gilds his perfect features. “Ginevra has no boundaries,” he says quietly. “That day, she was delivering a report from the field and burst in when I wasn’t ready for her. I suspect she did it intentionally. She’s
shallow and irritating.”
I nod. “Oh, you noticed that, too.”
He lets out an agonized sigh. “I think that was a persuasive enough show
for the guard, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
He lets go of me, and I slide off the windowsill, already missing the warmth of his strong body. I blow out the candle, and when I turn to look outside, I see Silver Fox lowering his spyglass with a disappointed expression. He wanted more of a show. Honestly, so did I.
In my camisole and underwear, I crawl under the covers and pull them around me. Rain hammers against the window.
There’s a thin blanket on top of the bed. With a little stab of guilt, I watch as he pulls it over himself on the hardwood floor.
“There’s no heat in here,” I say.
“I’ve certainly slept in worse conditions.”
I sit up in bed, and my gaze slides down over his broad shoulders, his powerful biceps.
“I can’t sleep in the same bed as you.” His voice sounds husky. “Perhaps your friends were on to something when they destroyed my letters. After all, Tana does see the future, and after what happened to Alix…” His gaze rakes down my body, lingering at my breasts, peaked beneath the silk. “Fuck.” A line forms between his eyebrows, his pale eyes burning with the heat of stars.
“What’s wrong?” I let the strap of my camisole fall down.
“You look fucking perfect.” He drags his hand over his mouth, then pulls his thin blanket over himself and turns to face the other way. “I’m going to sleep.”
Outside, the cold rain and hail are thundering down.
“That blanket won’t be warm enough,” I say. “There’s plenty of room in the bed, you know.” It’s not entirely true. It’s just a double bed, and I know we’d be pressed against each other. “I’m perfectly good at keeping to my side.”
“Good night, pixie.” The wooden floor creaks as he rolls flat onto his back.
Without a fireplace, the room is only about fifty degrees, and his blanket is more fit for summer.
I’m fairly certain I won’t be able to sleep. Won’t be able to stop thinking about how it felt just then when he kissed me, the way he pressed himself against me, the way his tongue brushed against mine and I wanted to moan. I imagine myself lying in this bed with him, my face nestled into his throat.
My thighs clench, and every inch of my skin has become sensitive and
desperate for his touch.
“You’re still awake,” I say.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve slept in a room with you before, and you snore horribly.”
“Bollocks, I do.”
I smirk. “Did you really not know that?”
“I don’t have many nighttime guests.”
Good.
My throat tightens.
He said he’d slept in worse conditions. Now, I’m thinking of what he would have looked like as a traumatized little boy at the edge of the Brocéliande forest, waiting for a sister who never showed up. Starving.
Sleeping on dirt and moss.
I can’t bear the thought of him lying cold on the floor anymore. He deserves the bed. “Will you just sleep in the bed, Raphael? You’re being an idiot.”
A loud sigh. “Well, how could I resist that charming invitation? Have you been taking etiquette lessons from Nivene?” The floor creaks as he gets up.
My pulse races, and I turn away from him, facing the window. The rain slides down the glass, and I feel the bed sink a little as he climbs in. His body feels warm near mine.
I lie completely still. If I move, I’ll scare him, and he’ll run away to the floor again, and I’ll have to think of him as a little boy sleeping on the dirt.
He spreads the thin blanket over the two of us, tucking us in.
The air is heavy with his seductive scent. And in fact, as long as he’s in the bed, I’m very much not thinking of him as a little boy. I’m thinking of how fucking perfect he looks as a man. The way the warm light of the candle caressed his muscles with shadows. I think of his hips moving between my thighs.
He’s not quite touching me, but he’s close.
I don’t even do it on purpose—at least, I think I don’t—but my hips shift back ever so slightly until my ass brushes against his hip.
“Are you trying to tempt me?” he asks in a low murmur.
“Hmm? No.”
I peer at him over my shoulder. His jaw is set with tension, and he’s gripping the blanket so tightly, it looks like he’s going to rip it.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say. “It’s just cold in here, is all.” And yet, all my senses have narrowed to this one point, exactly where my ass is brushing against his hip, and I can’t bring myself to move.
You’re tormenting me on purpose, and I absolutely cannot stop thinking about the perfect shape of your breasts through that camisole, or what your nipples would feel like in my mouth.
I realize, with a thrill of shock, that I’m hearing his thoughts for the first time.
He lets out an agonized sigh and turns to me, curving his body around
mine. Oh, gods, his thickly corded body feels amazing against my back. His arms slide around me, his chest like steel.
My hips shift back into him just a little more, and I feel the enormous length of him against my ass.
Oh, gods, Nia. I want to explore every inch of your perfect body.
He’s rock-hard behind me, and an ache starts to build between my thighs.
And suddenly, that’s all I can think about, because apparently, demi-Fey men are blessed in every way.
I wonder what he’d do if I reached back, slid my hand into his trousers, and stroked him over his underwear—just lightly up and down over that glorious length. And now I can think of absolutely nothing else.
I swear I’m not doing it on purpose, but my hips shift back again. His muscles tense. His hand slides around my waist in a protective embrace. His fingers tighten on me, right above my hip bone. “Nia.” His voice sounds deep
and husky.
“Yes, Raphael?”
“This is a terrible idea.” His breath warms my throat. “Especially since you screamed that I’ve never been good enough for you, and I never would
be.”
My cheeks flush. “Did I scream that?”
“Yes, and it sounded like you meant it.”
“Ten years ago, you kissed me, then entirely stopped speaking to me. It seemed very much like it was happening again.”
He leans closer, murmuring, “You don’t know why I stopped speaking to you back then, do you?”
“Because you thought I was a spoiled American.”
“No, I started to fall for you the moment I saw you. I thought you were perfect. I still do. But your mother explained to me that you were mistaken.
She said you thought I was rich, and she knew I wasn’t. She told me that you were looking for someone wealthy. She said the moment you realized I was a grape picker, you’d be gone. She was very persuasive at the time. I believed her then, but I don’t anymore.”
My jaw drops. “Oh, gods. She really said that to you?” I wish I could say that sort of thing wasn’t in her character. “You know what, I’m not as
shocked by this as I should be.”
My body presses into his.
You’re what I’ve been missing all these years. His thoughts echo in my
mind.
Was this the first time I was hearing his thoughts? My mind flashes back to the vineyards all those years ago, when our fingers touched, and I heard the words beautiful, beautiful, beautiful… “I hear your thoughts,” I whisper.
A quiet chuckle. “Stop listening. They’re about to become wildly inappropriate.” I want to hear you moan my name.
His hand slides into one corner of my underwear. Now his thumb is brushing slowly up and down over my hip bone. With his free hand, he pulls the hair back from my neck. “This is a terrible idea,” he repeats.
Because if I can’t strip you naked and fuck you hard, I will lose my mind.
I turn to face him, and his mouth is so close to mine. “Why is it such a terrible idea?” I whisper. The moonlight washes over him. I find myself tracing the sinuous curves of the tattoos that coil over his shoulder and chest.
“We’re just cold. They can’t blame us for being cold. Do they want us to freeze to death?”
I’m desperate for you. Desperate the way a starving man craves fruit.
I’ve dreamt of this for years, and I want to taste every inch of your skin.
“Right,” he says. “Of course, we’re just getting warm. For the mission.”
“For England.”
He pulls me in even closer against his hot, steely body.
I sigh, closing my eyes. I’m thinking of him ripping off my underwear, parting my thighs, and filling me with his enormous cock. I’m also glad that he can’t hear my thoughts because his sounded significantly more romantic than mine. Really, I’m mostly thinking about his dick.
His fingers stroke slowly up and down the hollow of my hips, and heat flows through me. My nipples push against my silky camisole. I’m trying to play it cool, but the sexual ache has my thighs clenching, and all I can think about is how desperately I want him to fuck me.
His hand is too high, and yet, with each slow stroke of his fingers over my skin, my core tightens. His fingertips glide over the top of my underwear, warmth over silk, a light touch. My breath hitches.
Take my time with you… I imagine his mouth between my thighs, kissing me. I turn back to him and tangle my fingers in his hair. My hip presses against his erection.
I need your mouth wrapped around my cock.
My heartbeat races, and desire flushes my chest.
I want all the silk off my body. I want the heat, the glow, the delicious stroke of his bare skin against mine.
I turn, looking up at him, and lick my lips. He stares at my mouth. “My
camisole is making me cold,” I say.
“Take it off, then.”
I reach down to the hem and pull it away. I lie on my back, staring up at him. My breasts peak in the cold air, and Raphael’s burning gaze rakes down my body.
Bloody hell. You’re going to be the sweet, blissful death of me.
“You’re beautiful,” I say.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.
He leans down, and his mouth closes around one of my nipples. He licks, his tongue swirling. My breath goes shallow. I need him inside me.
Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you, Nia?
His mouth is on my breast, and one of his hands is curved around my ribs.
And after I took you to the lake, I couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked with your dress clinging. The droplets of lake water on your eyelashes. You looked like you were born from that lake. Sexiest thing I’d ever seen. He pulls his mouth from me again, staring at my breasts. At least, until now.
He traces my lower lip with his tongue. Desire courses through me, and I open my mouth to him. He’s kissing me tentatively—teasing, shallow.
Tantalizing. He’s holding back, and yet my body lights up for him like a lantern. He kisses me deeper, his tongue sliding in. As our tongues meet, erotic currents of magic skim over our bodies, filling us. He tastes like perfection.
As he kisses me, he caresses my breasts. I moan lightly into his mouth. I don’t want any of this to stop—ever.
And this is why his kiss had the power to ruin my life all those years ago, because already, my body is desperate for him, and I can hardly remember the mission. His kiss grows insistent, desperate. His hand slides between my thighs, finding my wetness, and I groan into his mouth. My hips shift at the contact.
As he touches me, his thoughts echo in my mind. I’ve wanted this for so long, and right now, I literally don’t give a fuck about anything but you.
I move against his hand, my body swelling with pleasure. He’s teasing
me with agonizing sweetness, stoking my body into a fevered flame.
He pulls away with a little bite to my lower lip. My core pulses, and he stares into my eyes. Even in the dark, I can see the silver and dark blue.
“Can you still hear my thoughts?” he whispers.
How about I fuck you now?
“Right to the point.”
He gets up to his knees, and I don’t even wait for him to take off his trousers. I reach for them, freeing his erection, and my jaw drops in awe.
I run my finger down his shaft.
Godsdamn it, she will ruin me.
He reaches for my panties, gripping them hard. But he’s not taking off my underwear yet. Take my time… Instead, he slides between my thighs and leans down to kiss my throat.
His tongue sweeps over my skin in lazy, languorous strokes. My body is electrified, my heart pounding and my chest flushing with desire. I tilt my head back as he kisses me.
Gently, he palms my breast, his tongue flicking over my nipple. Liquid heat pulses through me. I want him inside me.
Need to take my time with you…need restraint…want to bury myself in you… I don’t want him to take his time. As I wrap my legs around his hips, I ache for him. I reach out and stroke his cock again.
He pulls his mouth from my throat. “Nia.” His voice is husky, and he says my name with a certain reverence. He sits up, his gaze stroking my body.
His jaw clenches, and then he reaches for my underwear and pulls it down slowly to my thighs, then to my knees, my ankles, and off. He moves between my thighs, and his silver eyes gleam in the dark as he takes in the sight of my naked body. He looks almost awestruck.
I let my legs fall open wider in invitation and start touching myself while he watches.
Have you thought of me before while you pleasured yourself?
“Often,” I say out loud.
I want to hear you moan.
He grabs me by the waist, pulling me closer to him. I can still hear his thoughts, but they’re basically incoherent at this point, and the only fragment I get is want you.
Slowly, carefully, he slides into me. I gasp at the size of him as he
sheathes himself in me, one inch at a time. “Raphael.”
My desire for you will burn me alive.
His metallic eyes pierce me, searching me. A pleasure that is painfully intense grips my body as he fills me completely.
“Nia.” He says my name like a prayer.
I will lose myself in your heat.
He moves slowly, and I twist my fingers in his hair, breathing hard. My
desire feels incendiary, dangerous.
You’ll be the end of me.
When he leans down to claim my mouth, I feel perfectly connected with him. With the way he’s kissing me, fucking me slowly and carefully, I know exactly how he feels. I am filled with a sense of being cared for, as if his healing magic were pouring into me, stroking and caressing me. The erotic caress of his magic slips around me.
“I’ve thought of this for so long,” he whispers. “Of you.”
Rocking with pleasure, I move my hips against him, seeking release. His fingers curl into my hair, tugging it a little bit, He moves faster now, thrusting into me, and his eyes meet mine.
“Nia.” My name is a whisper on his tongue.
I wrap myself around him, hands dancing over the hard muscles of his back. His lips meet mine again, kissing me as I seek my pleasure.
My body clenches around him, thighs tightening, fingernails raking down his back as he reaches his pleasure at the same time as I find mine. My back arches, and stars dance in my vision. As my orgasm crashes through me, my mind goes blank. I wrap my legs around his hips, never wanting to let him
go.
“Raphael,” I gasp.
His eyes search mine, and he brushes a damp lock of hair from my face.
“Who could blame us?” he whispers. “We had to stay warm.”
ONE WEEK LATER.
I stand, staring through the spyglass. This time, Silver Fox and Rosy Cheeks are on guard.
We’ve spent the entire week giving them a bit of a show, every now and
then making out in front of the window, just a couple of newlyweds. And I actually felt like a newlywed at this point because the moment Caradoc’s lights go off, Raphael pulls me into bed and starts stripping away my clothes.
Not that I’m complaining.
The door creaks open, and I turn to see Raphael standing in the doorway.
His expression is grim.
My heart kicks up a notch. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m afraid our honeymoon is over. I’ve just met with Ginevra. She brought an update from MI-13. They say that one of the task forces was discovered.”
My stomach swoops. “Which?” I think of Serana and Tana, my heart clenching with fear.
“The sixth. A new agent named Benedict and a knight named Aldous.
The only good news is that they didn’t allow themselves to be taken alive.
They slit their own throats before the Fey could torture them for intel.”
I knew Benedict. He was sweet, shy, with a surreal sense of humor. I cannot in my wildest dreams imagine him slitting his own throat. Did Aldous have to do it for him?
Suddenly, I feel as if someone had poured cold water over me. We’ve been in here for a full week—watching Caradoc, yes, but also very much enjoying every night when Raphael made it his mission to give me as much pleasure as possible. Strangely, this had started to feel like a real vacation, a trip for pleasure. But that’s not reality, and all the warmth drains out of me.
What would happen if we had to slit our throats? Would he do it for me?
This is why love is not allowed: neither of us would want the other to die.
And sometimes, agents have to.
This also has me wondering if I should have stayed at home in the bookstore, where I was safe. But I suppose a life suffocated by boredom and
isolation isn’t much of a life at all.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“The other task forces are stumped as well. All the veil mages are very closely protected in mansions warded with magic. They rarely leave unless they’re surrounded by guards. Freya and Serana managed to sneak to the inner perimeter of their target’s mansion but couldn’t get through the wards.”
“Maybe a Sentinel can.”
He nods. “There’s one more thing. Tana reported that our time is growing short. If we don’t act soon, we will all die.”
Tana and her dire proclamations. Blood roars in my ears. “Time to act, then.”
“Tonight. We’ll use the darkness to our advantage.” His jaw clenches.
“And yet, I just want to keep you in here, where you’re safe, and not let you get anywhere near the Fey. But that’s not why we’re here, is it?”
I let out a long, slow breath. “Raphael, this is what I’ve trained for.”
