I wanted.
It didn’t matter how much I told myself I shouldn’t.
I needed.
And, gods, I welcomed the feeling because it left no room for the dread, uncertainty, or the ugliness of the day.
“I should leave,” Nyktos ground out, his voice sounding like smoke and gravel.
I looked at him and realized I shouldn’t have done that either.
He shifted back from me, just enough that I saw the thick ridge of his cock straining against his leathers. I nearly moaned at his visceral reaction to my lust—to me. Gods. I pressed my thighs together, but I was empty, and it was all too easy to recall the feel of him inside me, stretching me—
I moved without thinking, grasping Nyktos’s arm. The charge of energy, and the feel of his flesh under my hand sparked another rush of damp, hot desire.
“Sera,” he hissed.
Pulse pounding, I lifted my gaze to his. His eyes were quicksilver, heated and whirling with so much power, so much need. My nails pressed into his skin.
Stay.
I didn’t speak the word. I thought it. I prayed it, even though I knew I could bring an end to my torment. Give myself pleasure. But I wanted it. I wanted him despite the dangers of what that desire led to. In spite of what I’d seen with him and Veses and still didn’t understand.
Stark lust carved into his features, hollowing his cheeks as he stared at me. “You know what will happen if I don’t leave,” he growled. Warned. “No matter how much you hate me now, you will hate yourself more later.”
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered.
“My blood is making you think you don’t.”
He was wrong. I wished he was right. Everything would be so much easier if I did, but I didn’t. “I think I proved earlier today that I don’t hate you.”
His arm trembled in my grip. “You should.”
“I should.” I ran my tongue across my teeth. “You could leave if you wanted to.”
His eyes darted to mine. “I know.”
“But you haven’t.”
Tension bracketed his mouth as his gaze dropped to my chest. The tips of my breasts were clearly visible beneath the nightgown. A predatory gleam pinched his lips and filled his eyes as he watched me shrug off the robe.
“Sera,” he rasped, his lips parting and gaze sweeping down the translucent nightgown to the throbbing space between my thighs. “I don’t know if I love these things you swear are gowns or fucking hate them.”
My entire chest rose and fell sharply as our gazes locked. A second passed. Another.
“But there are a hundred reasons why one of us needs to leave,” he said, his breath matching mine. “And only one reason neither of us is.”
“Want.”
He gave me a curt shake of his head. “Need.”
Then I was in his arms.
I didn’t know who moved. Wasn’t sure if it was me who climbed into his embrace, him who’d grasped my arms, or if we’d both moved at once.
But it didn’t matter.
His mouth was on mine, his kiss wild and desperate. Starved. I could feel his cool flesh beneath his torn tunic, soothing my overly sensitive skin and then igniting another maddening rush of desire. Both of our hands went to his pants. My fingers curled around his thickness, stroking him through the soft cloth. He tore at the buttons, and raw lust scorched the breath I took as he freed himself.
Nothing mattered then. Not Veses. Not the hurt. The pain. The ugliness. Not how close Reaver had come to death. Not what saving him would do, or how close I was to the Ascension. I didn’t think about anything as Nyktos’s hands went to my hips to steady me. He consumed my thoughts and my body. This did. Us. I gasped when I felt the broad head of his cock, easing through my wetness and pressing into me. I clutched his shoulders. Nyktos trembled, holding himself still as I lowered myself, moaning against his lips between kisses. The pressure, the burn was exquisite. His fingers pressed into the flesh of my hips as I took him, inch by decadent inch, to the hilt. I panted as I held myself still.
He felt…gods, my head fell back. He felt like we were made for each other.
Nyktos’s arm encircled my waist as he buried his hand deep in my hair, clasping the nape of my neck. He drew my mouth to his. “Fuck me,” he ordered.
This was one of those rare moments where I was more than happy to obey.
I lifted, slowly retreating before lowering myself once more. My ragged cry got lost in his harsh groan. The friction of our bodies moving, and the full impact of him, as deep as he could go, nearly undid me. I moved, slowly and steadily, my pace matching that of his tongue.
I moved faster, rocking and grinding against him, clamping down on him. There was no rhythm. No more kisses. Just our shared breaths and pleasure as my knees dug into the hard floor.
“Fates,” he groaned harshly. “Nothing—nothing—feels like this.” His hips punctuated his words with a deep thrust. “Nothing feels like you.”
I shuddered because he was right. Nothing felt like this. I could spend an eternity searching for it, but I knew I would come up empty-handed. Because it was him that I rode. He who was inside me. And that made me even more desperate to capture this moment somehow.
My fingers tangled in his hair. The arm at my waist loosened. His hand slipped under the fluttering hem of my nightgown, splaying across the center of my ass. I rubbed my chest against his. Nipped at the skin of his throat, tasting the salt there. I moaned as he dragged my mouth back to his. We kissed, his fangs clashing with my teeth. Our lips swelled. Our bodies shook. His fingers dug into the flesh of my ass as he pulled me down on him, harder with each plunge. We feasted on each other. Devoured. All my tiny inner muscles began to quiver, clenching him. I was gasping with pleasure. He was snarling with it. And all of this…
All of this felt like more.
Nyktos pulled me tighter against him, holding me in place with him deep inside as he moved to his knees and then drove me onto the floor. His hand remained around the back of my head as he pounded into me, creating a shield between me and the hard surface. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I took all of him as he thrust deeper, harder, faster until the only sound was that of our bodies coming together.
I cried out as he pulled my head back, exposing my throat. His fangs grazed my pulse and then pressed in. Nyktos shook. He didn’t break the skin, simply held his fangs there, and that was all it took. I exploded, shattering into silken shards of pleasure that dragged him over the edge and into the storm with me. Nyktos came with a roar against my throat, his body buckling as he spent himself.
His weight settled on me as spasms of pleasure rolled through both of us. I still held on to him, my fingers lost in his hair, my nails pressing into the skin of his arm, and my legs still wrapped around his, still slowly rocking my hips. Our breathing was ragged, slow to calm, and his fangs…
They were still at my throat.
My belly fluttered, and I tightened on him, drawing a hoarse groan from him. “If you need to feed,” I whispered. “You can.”
Nyktos’s hips went still, but I felt him throb inside me. He just didn’t need to. He wanted to. And I wanted to feel the pleasure-pain of his bite. The deep, languid draws. I wanted him at my throat, my breast, and between my thighs, sucking me, taking from me as I took from him. I bit my lip, moaning. His fangs scraped my skin, and every part of me trembled.