Dance of a Burning Sea (Mousai, #2)

“You are. You are scared of what a true alliance between us would create.”

“I may have fears, Alōs, but they no longer involve you.” Niya stood from the bath. She would not be forced into a corner any longer.

Her nipples hardened in the cool air, rivulets of water running over her skin as she exited the tub.

Alōs froze, his gaze locked onto her nakedness as she stalked toward him. There was a hiss of steam as she bent low, their two powers clashing, her breasts lightly grazing his chest. She caught his intake of breath.

“Who is scared now?” cooed Niya before pulling free her robe draped on the corner of his chair.

She shrugged into it, but Alōs grabbed her wrist, keeping her from cinching it closed. His gaze burned. Engulfed her.

“You,” he all but growled, “play too well with fire.”

Niya was in his lap, his lips upon hers, before her senses had registered what was happening.

Niya would like to believe she resisted then, that she twisted his arm back to free herself. She easily could.

But she didn’t.

While Niya’s convictions were screaming to push away, to stop this madness, her body, the betraying bastard, leaned in. Despite all her hateful words, her mistrust, she wanted Alōs; her magic desired his. Two opposites destined to collide.

It was utter insanity!

But as his mouth worked against hers, she found herself opening to him, parting hers in kind.

With a frustrated groan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer.

It was like settling into the calm eye of a storm, a moment of exhausted relief.

Alōs tasted like midnight and sea, his skin cool to her warm, and it sent treacherous shivers up her spine.

She might not trust him, but she could no longer deny how he made her feel.

Alive. Soaring. Unstoppable.

And now here she was, kissing the man again, letting him kiss her—and not because it was an act, a way to escape the suspicion of guards, but because she wanted it.

She bloody wanted it, so have it she would.

If only for a night.

With that resolve settling inside her tumbling sensations, Niya did what she usually did in these moments. She fell into the chaos.

Pressing her breasts against Alōs’s hard chest, she continued to claim his mouth as he claimed hers. They were two crashing waves, finally able to drown their victims, to send them spinning in their surge.

Their hands were everywhere, in each other’s hair, down arms, over shoulders. Alōs kneaded along her exposed thigh, deliciously close to where her robe was split.

She wanted more. She wanted everything.

Twisting in Alōs’s lap, Niya straddled him, running her fingers up his strong arms, through his hair.

A carnal growl came from the pirate’s throat as she ground against him. The most sensitive part of her finding the hardest part of him beneath his trousers.

His grip tightened, hands cupping her backside, following the rhythm in her movements.

Niya’s thoughts were no longer. She was only sensations, reactions, desires.

But this time she was not fooled regarding the expectations of after. She would have Alōs, but this time he would not be taking any piece of her.

Not again.

She would give her body but not her heart.

Alōs’s fingers parted the material of her robe to bare her chest.

“By the stars and sea.” His voice was a rumble of reverence. “How I’ve dreamed of touching these again.”

He ran a gentle finger under the curve of her aching breasts where they sat heavy and wanting. He captured her gaze while he took one of her nipples into his mouth, a light nip of his teeth.

She let out a groaning sigh.

Her body was the center of the sun, and Alōs flew uncaring toward the burning flames.

He kept his attention on her as he sucked, played, cherished, his energy held tight, controlled.

Niya was angling to shatter that control.

She leaned into him, drunk under his skilled attention.

A strong arm circled the small of her back, the other running up her neck to hold her cheek as he kissed her again. It was a gentle but possessive gesture, a king careful with his treasure.

“You are a lost goddess,” he said between their kisses. “You have me, fire dancer.”

He tipped her head back so he could look her in the eyes again.

She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to see him.

But he forced her to.

He forced her to see what she had done to him, what she was doing to him. Alōs was a monster on his knees; he was a coil of desire, of desperation, waiting for her command. “Do you understand, Niya?” he continued. “You can take whatever you want of me.”

You can take whatever you want.

The words pierced her heart, a well-aimed arrow.

He was giving himself over. Giving her his powers tonight.

This was different from then, from that night four years ago. Everything about how he looked at her now, touched her, didn’t touch her, said all the difference.

“Niya,” he rumbled, his voice the deepest part of the sea. “I am yours to command.”

Niya realized then just how dangerous it was to finally get what you wanted, because often you ended up wanting more.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Alōs was drowning in madness. For everything he was saying to Niya he meant.

He had been his own master for so long, fighting against any who would dare disrupt his power, his independence, his safety behind walls, that he had forgotten what it was like to truly feel another. Touch another. He was tired of being a frozen island.

Despite Niya’s good or bad intentions, she was the only one who had ever properly threatened to melt his cold veneer. The only one who had strong enough heat to thaw the layers of ice in his veins.

But what truly drove Alōs to accept the crumbling barriers between them was finally accepting that their partnership was more powerful when stitched together.

They were unstoppable together.

Perfect together.

Just like they had been on his boat, fighting back the storm side by side.

And the Valley of Giants, working in tandem.

Just as she felt perfect in his arms now.

Niya had consumed him from the moment he’d seen her those four years ago. He’d known then that she was more than his equal: she was his superior. Which was exactly what had made her his threat. His enemy. Alōs had already lost too much after Esrom. At that time he could not allow any other distractions or weaknesses into his life. Niya, he had instantly known, could destroy him.

So he had angled to destroy her first.

But now . . .

Now he wanted her forgiveness and trust more than he knew. It burned across his skin like the deepest craving.

He wanted her to always look at him as she was now, with desire and strength. He wanted her to laugh with him, as carefree as she was with her sisters, with his crew.

He wanted . . . her.

Tugging her closer, tasting the honeysuckle that clung to her skin from her bath, he finally pushed himself headfirst into her flames.

He didn’t deserve any part of Niya, but he would take whatever she was willing to give.

As he ran hands over her softness, he recalled her at the Fountains of Forgotten Memories, her gentle touch to his shoulder when he had fought for clarity after being in the old queen’s memory. Niya’s perseverance in the Valley of Giants to locate the last stone when he had been defeated. Her fight to save his ship in the storms.

After all he’d put her through, Niya had every right to carry her disdain for him to the Fade. Yet there she had been, helping. Binding bet or no, Alōs knew she would have acted similarly anyway. Because that was who she was. She might be a thief and a mercenary, but at the core, Niya was good.

Whereas he was rotten.

And Alōs was determined to make things right between them.

So he did it the only way he knew how.

He worshipped her.

Angling her chin, Alōs pressed kisses along Niya’s neck. He raked teeth over her shoulder, eliciting a tantalizing moan from her lips.

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