The Darkest Whisper

“I told you. I can’t lie. I pass out if I try. That’s part of my curse—and another weakness.”

“You said you wouldn’t use my secrets against me. That was a lie, but you didn’t pass out.”

“I meant it at the time.”

She remained silent.

“I hold two daggers while fighting because I have a tendency to grab my opponent if a hand is free. I’ve lost fingers that way more times than I can count. If you can disarm me of a single blade, you can more easily defeat me.” He’d never told anyone these things. Even his men, though they’d probably noticed over the years. Still, he was surprised by how easily—and willingly—he shared with her.

“I–I think I noticed that.” Her tone was softer, gentler. “During practice.”

Encouraged, he continued. “Everyone is sensitive in some place, some way. It’s a weakness, an Achilles heel. Mine is my left knee. The slightest pressure can send me to the ground. That’s why I fight with my body half-turned.”

She blinked, as if she were reliving their practice sessions in her mind, trying to judge the truth of his claim for herself. A few minutes ticked by in silence. Sabin concentrated on breathing deep and even, drawing her scent into his nose.

“To be honest, though, there is one weakness that slays me more than any other. Right now, always, that’s you.” His voice dropped, husky, intent. “If you still want to leave, leave. But know that I’ll be leaving with you. Try to lose me, and I’ll just hunt you down. Where you go, I go. If you decide to stay and wish me to stop fighting, I’ll never again fight the Hunters. You are more important. I’d rather die than live without you, Gwendolyn.”

She was shaking her head, disbelief warring with hope in her expression. “My father—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But…but…”

“I love you, Gwen.” More than he’d ever loved another. More than he loved even himself. And he loved himself a great deal—most of the time. “I never thought I’d find myself grateful to Galen for anything, but I am. I could almost forgive him for every wrong he’s committed because he brought you into the world.”

She licked her lips, still hesitant to accept his claim. “But other women—”

“Don’t even tempt me. I am your consort. Not for any reason, even to win a battle, would I turn to someone else. Ever. I’d rather lose the battle than lose you. You are it for me. The only one. Hurting you destroys me. I know that now.”

“I want to believe you. I do.” Her gaze fell to his chest, to where her fingers rested. Those fingers relaxed their grip, even traced squiggly lines. “I’m afraid.”

“Give me time. Let me prove it. Please. I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m willing to beg for one. Anything you desire, anything you—”

“What I desire is you.” Her eyes met his, pupils consuming the irises. “You’re here, and you’re alive, and that’s all I can seem to make matter at the moment. Let me have you.” She ripped his shirt in half and dove down, mouth suddenly sucking one of his nipples. “I don’t know about the future, but I know that I need you. Show me what you want me to believe. Show me you love me.”

Sabin’s hands tangled in her hair, and he rolled them over. Joy burst through him. Joy and shock, love and white-hot desire. She hadn’t offered the everlasting declaration he’d hoped for, but this would do. For now.

He tugged at her clothing, his own. Soon they were both naked, hot skin pressed against hot skin. He sucked in a breath at the bliss. She moaned, her nails spearing deep in his shoulders.

Sabin kissed his way to her chest, laved his tongue over each of her nipples, kneaded her breasts, and then continued his trail of kisses. His tongue swooped into her navel, and she quivered, writhing against him.

“Grab the headboard,” he commanded.

“Wh-what?”

“Headboard. Hold it. Don’t let go.”

She was blinking up at him in confusion, the scent of desire wafting from her. She was lost in the pleasure, drowning in it, but finally she obeyed. Her back arched, her breasts now high in the air, nipples hard as little pearls.

“Drape your legs over my shoulders,” he rasped out, reaching up to roll one of those beautiful nipples between his fingers.

This time she obeyed without hesitation, gasping, trying to grind up against him. When he felt her heels digging into his lower back, he parted the damp folds guarding the new center of his world and bent his head for a taste.

Her flavor was intoxicating. Addicting. Rich and sweet, the perfection he remembered. He circled her clitoris, teasing it, while he sank two fingers inside her. Her cry echoed throughout the bedroom.

“I can’t believe I resisted you, even for a second.”

“More.”

“Have I told you yet how beautiful you are? How much I love you?”

“More!”

He chuckled. On and on he tongued her, his fingers never ceasing their ministrations. Her head thrashed back and forth, strawberry curls flying in every direction, body writhing.

“More,” she chanted. “More, more, more.”

When he brought a third finger into play, she immediately began spasming, holding him inside, muscles locking tight. He sucked her clit harder…longer…drawing out her climax.

Only when she screamed his name, only when she collapsed against the mattress limply, did he release her. He crawled up her body, cock begging to penetrate her tight little sheath. But he didn’t. Not yet.

Her eyelids blinked open. Luminous amber irises peered up at him, white teeth nibbling at her bottom lip.

“I’m not going to hurt you, ever again,” he vowed, and then flipped her to her stomach. “Let me prove it.”

She gasped, instantly reared back to knock his weight off her, but he reached down and flattened his chest to her back, stopping the frantic flutter of her wings. She stilled. Don’t panic on me, darling. Next he flattened his hands over hers, meshing his cock between her lower cheeks, his legs outside hers. He was panting, warm breath trekking wildly over her shoulders.

“I owe these precious wings a proper apology,” he said, lifting his weight. “Will you allow me to touch them?”

Thankfully, she didn’t try to buck him off again. She did stop breathing, though. He heard the hitch of it in her throat. Unable to speak, she nodded.

“Make them stop,” he said. “Please.”

Gradually, the wings calmed.

Inch by inch, he covered each delicate wing with a kiss. They were soft, like silk, and cool to the touch, the perfect contrast to his heat. There wasn’t a single hint of feathers, which surprised him. They were nearly translucent, blue veins intertwining from top to bottom, flowing like crystal rivers.

Just then he hated himself for what he’d done to her. How could he have bound these beautiful wings, even for a moment?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “So sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. No excuse is good enough.”

“I–I forgive you.” The words were husky, wine-rich. “I do understand why you did it. I don’t like that you did it, but I do understand.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear it. I—”

“Need you inside me. Now.” Frantically she moved her backside against him, seeking the head of his shaft. “You’ve made me desperate. I need more.”

“Yes. Yes.” Wait. Slow down. “Fertile yet?”

“No.”

Speed back up. Sabin gripped her hips and slammed all the way to the hilt. They cried out in unison. So good. Felt so good. Better than before, hotter, wetter. More fulfilling. They were connected, one being, fused together. She belonged to him, and he to her.

Bending down, he pressed his stomach to her back, reached around and thrummed her clit with one hand