The phantom, p.23
The Phantom, page 23
Because he didn’t understand her mood. Because her beauty had erased his wits. Because...he didn’t know why. “I never thought I’d say this, but we will talk before we do this.”
“I don’t want to talk.” She kicked his feet out from under him, and he let her do it. Let her dive on top of him and claim his lips in a mad kiss.
He kissed back because he couldn’t not kiss back. While his body hummed with frothing delight, his mind wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to be more to her than an outlet.
And he would be. Roux had learned enough about her to know she must be eased from whatever mood this was. He gentled his response and cupped her jawline. Applying the slightest pressure, he took control of the kiss. Reverence marked every brush of his lips and stroke of his tongue.
Her fervor tapered until she matched him stroke for stroke, brush for brush. Reverence for reverence.
With a groan, she lifted her head and pressed her brow to his. Clinging to him, she asked, “Why aren’t you out of your mind with passion?”
Roux rolled her over, pinning her to the grass with his weight. “Your Astra requires more romance. And he’s going to get it.”
Wrapping her arms around him, she molded her body to his and dragged a knee up and down his side. “My Astra. Roux.”
Those whispered words annihilated his defenses.
“That’s right. I’m yours, and you are mine.” With his hands free, he gripped the neckline of his shirt and yanked. “I should inspect what’s mine.”
“You should. Twice.”
He lowered his lips to hers and stole her breath. As she writhed beneath him, he kissed her jawline. The length of her throat. Lower. He tasted the sweetest peaks and most sumptuous hollows. Savored her cries of bliss and pleas for more. Relished the way she moved against him. Her sweet cries filled his ears, creating the most tantalizing music.
This. This was what he’d been created to do. Not to hurt or to inflict hurt, but to please this female. Through her pleasure, he found his own.
But the more he tasted, the more he wanted. Ever-sharpening desire lashed at his fraying control while frenzied desire burned at the fringes of his every thought. Sweat sheened his skin. Muscles pulled taut. Veins throbbed.
His palms, they tingled and heated. And heated. He expected to produce flames at any moment. Blythe didn’t seem to mind.
“Roux, I’m going to... I’m so close...” Her body jerked, and she screamed a sound of complete satisfaction.
He lifted his head from between her legs and licked his wet lips. His chest puffed up. His control frayed further. Climax looked good on her.
He should give her another one.
With a drunken smile, she rasped, “Get inside me, Roux.”
Yes. No. He fought the clawing need to obey. “No sex.” Not until she asked for it before they even started. For now, they could do something he’d imagined.
He jerked to his knees and lowered his zipper.
Her jaw dropped. What did she think of him?
One thudding heartbeat, two.
She smiled with feline-like approval. “I am going to love being with you.”
He gripped his shaft and stroked. She watched, as though riveted. As a ray of sunlight broke through the night’s gloom, stroking her, he did it again. And again. She wiggled, her skin glittering. Brightly.
His jaw nearly unhinged as he swept his gaze over her sprawled form. He had covered her with stardust. Had claimed her as his own. His possessiveness tore off its leash. My gravita. Something he’d never thought to have. Or want. But he had one now—and he would keep her. Forever.
He would die before he gave her up. The task couldn’t have her heart. Though she was soon to become Ation’s queen, Roux refused to kill her. So decision made. No need for further pondering. He would succeed another way, saving both his friends and his female.
“If you’re worried about getting me pregnant,” she said, placing her legs outside his hips, “don’t. It’s not my season.”
Pregnant? He gulped. The thought of creating a child...someone he could—and would—protect in all the ways he had not been. Becoming a family. Want this!
“Lyla, I’m not worried about anything right now. I think I might be happy for the first time in my life.” He climbed up her body, kissed her, and rolled, putting her on top of him.
Magnificent female. All mine. “Though it pains me to say this,” he began, urging her to her knees, “you won’t be claiming my virginity today. But you will be giving me that story you promised me.”
“Is that so?” With her mussed black hair, luminous eyes, and passion-flushed skin, she was all goddess. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, saying, “When the pleasure is too much for you, just say my name...and I’ll keep going.”
23
THE PARTNERSHIP
Blythe meant to torment Roux until he gave her what she wanted. In a good way! But the guy who liked to sit in chairs and stare at her in silence was an animal in bed, and she kept losing her mind over it, forgetting her purpose.
As she licked and sucked him, he stayed rough and growly. Commanding. He displayed zero hesitation, threading his fingers through her hair and guiding her the way he wanted her. He loved what they were doing, and it showed. And even now, he watched her. Oh, did he watch, gauging every change of her expression.
Only want more. What had started as a screw you to her father and his tricks had morphed into a sensual indulgence she never wanted to end.
“You make me feel so good,” Roux rasped. “Can’t live without this. Never letting you go.”
And he wasn’t done. As she sucked him faster, he made observations about her. “You’re desperate for me, too.”
“You enjoy this very much.”
“You’ll need more every day.”
He asked questions. “You’ve been starved for me, haven’t you, Lyla?”
“You’ll give me whatever I want, won’t you?”
Blythe couldn’t think past her growing need. She sucked faster.
Hoarse groans left him as he fisted a handful of her hair.
Between panting breaths, he told her, “I never understood...why males waged wars...for their females...but this...you... I understand now.” Strain radiated from him. “Need to see you.”
The next thing she knew, she lay on her back, Roux looming over her, a fantasy made flesh. His pale hair was tousled. His pupils pulsed over his golden irises, reminding her of a heartbeat. Never had there been a more sensual sight. Or sensation. His erection pressed against her core, without penetration, perfect, and wonderful and terrible because she craved more.
Fierce, wild eyes locked with hers. He stared at her in that all-consumed, all-consuming way, and any remaining defenses she possessed crumbled, leaving her shockingly vulnerable. All she could do? Rock against him as emotion after emotion swamped her. Hope. Tenderness. Anticipation. Nothing she’d thought she would crave again...but everything she needed?
He dipped his head to kiss the corner of her mouth, rocking, rocking, and whispered, “I understand, Lyla.”
Blythe opened her mouth to ask what he thought he understood, when she herself understood nothing, but the pleasure. “Roux. Forget your principles and get inside me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He kissed her hard and fast, preventing a debate. Always rocking against her, driving her toward the brink. “I meant what I said. You’ll ask me before we start. You’ll say, Roux, will you please give me what I need?”
“Asking doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” Pleasure spiked. “But I might just issue a demand.”
“Even better.” He thrust against her with more force, his shaft slipping over her sex, rubbing against all the right places. Again. And again. Sweat trickled from his temples. “Lyla. Not sure how much longer I can hold out. The feel of you...”
As she screamed, coming apart at the seams, he threw back his head, and came apart, too.
He collapsed atop her but quickly collapsed to his side. They both lay there for a moment.
“I am undone,” he rasped.
“You aren’t the only one.”
Still laboring for breath, he swiped up a discarded T-shirt and cleaned her. When he finished, he tugged her against his furnace of a body.
She could do nothing but mold against him and marvel. With Laban, she’d always experienced the pangs of addiction at this point, as if she could never get enough. As if—she cringed with merely the thought—something had been missing, and she’d constantly sought to fill a void. Here and now, she wanted only to luxuriate in this seemingly endless sea of contentment.
But how could that be? What did it mean? Why wasn’t the guilt attacking her with renewed force? Where was the tide of regret?
Roux must have sensed the source of her unease; he ran his fingertip along the jewel, frowning when it remained firmly attached. “Is there anything I can do to earn your forgiveness?”
No. Yes. Maybe? “I don’t hate you. Not anymore,” she admitted, the act disgracefully easy. “But I’ll always hate what you did.” How could she not? Her daughter had to live without her father.
“I am sorry I hurt you and your family, Lyla.”
“I know.” And she did. Looking back without her malice-colored glasses firmly in place, she could see that he’d accepted her vengeance as his due.
“Shall we discuss the tournament?” he asked, tracing his fingertips along the ridges of her spine. “You mentioned the harpy and Phoenix aided you today.”
Not wanting to ruin the mood, she took the bait: the changing of the subject. “Yep. It was quite a shock, too. Since we were in the middle of a round, they claimed they had no time to explain. I should hunt them down and get answers.”
“Or stay here with me. Carrigan, the Phoenix. She’s dangerous. Be leery of her.”
“Oh?” Remembered jealousy flared. Blythe traced the tip of a claw around one of his nipples. “Do tell.”
“She says she received instruction from an oracle before voluntarily coming to this realm. That she has always known she will escape with me, and she alone will decide your fate.”
“In case you’re curious, she’s wrong. I decide my fate.” And she’d decided to win the tournament, find a way to save Roux’s blessing task without dying, and defeat Erebus.
Should Blythe tell Roux about her most recent dealings with the god or not? And what of the Laban sighting?
No. Better to wait until she had processed everything. Roux would insist on deep diving into the encounter, and currently she had no answers. Honestly, she didn’t know what to think about anything anymore.
Could she truly work with Laban’s executioner? Could she willingly help save the Astra army who’d destroyed her daughter’s life? Would Isla grow to despise her for such a deed?
Blythe, the first harpy in history to halfway forgive rather than fully retaliate? The madness!
“I think the oracle told Carrigan to align with Erebus,” she said. “He expects me to kill you. An assignment he believes only I can carry out successfully.” Something the Astra had already known. “It makes sense that he’d order Carrigan and Lucca to help me, and they’d actually obey. He probably promised them one-way tickets off realm. Which means they now grace the top of my hit list. Friends of my enemy are my enemy.”
“According to Penelope,” Roux said, kissing her temple, “not even Erebus is able to flash from this place. He visits her through doorways he fears to exit.”
Yes, Blythe had firsthand experience with those doors. “Do you know of a way home?” Yeah. Decision made. Firm this time. Win the tournament, return to Harpina with Roux, complete his task, stay alive, deal with Erebus. Then figure out all the rest.
“I have ideas. Namely, creating a doorway of my own. Something best done after the tournament, so no one else uses it.”
Smart. “If that fails, maybe I can drag you into a spirit realm and Ation will lose its hold on us.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “but either way, we will leave this realm together. I will allow no other outcome.” Determination hardened his voice, and she shivered. “Now, tell me what happened the other night, after I returned from feeding the wraiths.”
When she’d stared at his alevala? “I saw an endless, spinning slideshow of your death and torture courtesy of the other Astra, who looked like shadow puppets.”
He inhaled sharply, exhaled heavily. “My task usually involves entering an echo realm where memories of our tasks are recorded.”
“Recorded? Why?”
“Someone always complains about a rule being broken. For a fair ruling, our deeds are rewatched, examined, and picked apart.”
Okay. Yeah. That made sense. She’d bet her life Erebus demanded to view that replay every time he’d lost.
Roux continued, “I’m drawn into the echoes of the slain to experience their last moments alive. If I remain silent until the cycle is complete, I am successful. If I make a sound, any sound at all, I fail.”
“And what is the purpose of such a task?”
“To break me, I suppose. And it’s almost worked. The prisoners in my mind usually escape from the start, the noise as tormenting as everything else. Things get...jumbled for me.”
Yawning, she snuggled closer. The trials of the day must have caught up with her. Fighting to stay awake, she smoothed a hand over his shoulder, petting him, offering comfort. “You’ve mentioned the prisoners before. Who or what are they, exactly?”
A moment passed. Then he said, “Tomorrow is a big day, and my harphantom needs her rest.” He kissed her temple, more of his heat enveloping her. “Sleep, Lyla.”
For some reason, she obeyed, letting herself drift off.
* * *
Hours later, a cozy, well-satisfied Blythe opened her eyes and stretched sore muscles, inadvertently rubbing against her deliciously ferocious Astra.
“There you are,” he said, gliding his thumb over her jaw.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He kissed her brow. “Time for you to go back to the palace.”
“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a slice of chocolate cake first. Or the whole cake.” Well, well. Her sweet tooth was officially back in business. “Probably best to acquire two, so I don’t have to fork you for attempting to steal a bite of my dessert after I’ve stolen multiple the bites of yours.”
“I will bring you all the cakes upon my return.” He gently disentangled his limbs from hers and stood, leaving her lying on the ground, suddenly keenly aware of the cool breeze and setting sun.
The sky was a haze of dark blues and muted golds, a breathtaking scene as Roux gathered his clothing. “Return from where?”
“Wraith Island,” he intoned with his back to her, sliding into his leathers.
“I’m going with you,” she informed him. Fully awake now, she popped to her feet and tugged on her garments.
“Fine,” he replied, surprising her with the ease of his agreement. “I believe there’s a firstone weapon hidden within. You can search for it while the wraiths are otherwise occupied.”
Uh... He was trusting her with firstone? “Look. I kind of know there’s a firstone dagger hidden within Penelope’s domain. Because I brought it, and she stole it.”
The muscles in his shoulders bunched before he tugged his shirt overhead. “Will you strike at me while we’re here?”
Okay. Fair question. Highly deserved. “I told myself I wouldn’t, and I do plan to help you, but I don’t know. Maybe, if you made me mad enough,” she said, securing her own top in place. Hey! Frowning, she examined her arm in the dwindling light. “Am I glittering?”
She was! And just as brightly as Taliyah did after Roc—Blythe jerked her gaze to Roux just as he pivoted to face her. His expression switched from chagrined to prideful.
“About that.”
“You marked me as your gravita and didn’t inform me the second it happened?” She jerked on her skirt, then her boots, reeling. He’d claimed her. Roux the Crazed One had officially, eternally claimed her as his fated mate. And now, everyone would know it.
“I considered telling you. And planned to. Later. Which is now,” he told her, cautious as he finished strapping on his weapons. “I was kind of busy when it happened.”
What was she supposed to even do with this information? Preen? Sob? What did this mean for her? For Isla?
Blythe was the sole being in all of history that Roux couldn’t live without. The female he craved above all others. The one he required. An honor Laban had never given her. Not his fault, of course. Manticores didn’t possess fated mates. They tended to jump from one companion to another. Something Blythe had feared in the beginning. But time and time again, Laban had proven his love for her. His utter devotion. And most days, she’d told herself the lack of a reciprocal meant-to-be connection hadn’t bothered her. But deep down, she’d been troubled.
To share more with Roux...
She continued to examine her arm. The stardust was admittedly lovely.
“Don’t try to wipe it off,” Roux grated.
Her lungs compressed at his defensive tone. “I’m not,” she assured him. “It matches my outfit.” Then she shocked herself. She stepped into Roux’s personal space and wound her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort.
After a minute of immobility, he shifted, returning her embrace. Tightly.
“I must admit, this isn’t the reaction I expected,” he said. “And I had no idea what to expect.” After kissing her lips once, twice, then lingering and cursing, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“Ready,” she said with a nod. More than ready, actually. There was no better way to end this day than screwing over Penelope and reclaiming the dagger.
