Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

It didn’t matter, though.

My fingers undid the sash, my body and mind clearly knowing what they wanted. What I wanted. The robe parted and I let it slip past my shoulders, down my arms, and then to the floor, where it pooled at my feet. Warm, damp air teased already sensitized flesh. Dark strands of hair clung to the damp skin of my breasts and back as I turned.

The Prince was watching me through half-open eyes, his lips parting as I approached him. I thought I . . . I saw surprise flickering across his features, but it was gone before I could be sure. It very well could’ve been my imagination, but I did see that faint golden glow. My gaze tracked over the radiance outlining his shoulders. The soft light was beautiful— and a stark reminder of how otherworldly he was.

“I find pleasure in looking upon you,” he said, having noted what I was staring at.

I felt a strange, silly jump in my chest. I didn’t know if he could detect the shivers that came and went, but he didn’t blink. Not once as he lifted his hand to mine.

My pulse hammered as I placed my palm in his. Long, callused fingers closed around mine. The simple act of our hands joined together was a shock. His grip was steady and firm as I stepped over the side of the tub and into the warm, sudsy water, placing my feet on either side of his legs.

I began to lower myself, but he let go of my hand and clasped my hips. The feel of his hands against my bare flesh was a shock, a branding. I didn’t move.

Prince Thorne tipped his head back, and though I could see only a hint of those stunning eyes, I could feel his stare hot and hungry against my skin. Hadn’t he said he was always hungry? But I thought it was more than just the need of all Deminyens. The slow slide of his perusal felt like a physical caress over the width of my jaw and mouth, down my throat and across the tingling skin peeking between the strands of my hair. And lower still, over the curve of my stomach, the flare of my hip, and . . . and between my thighs.

Little air seemed to make it into my lungs as I stood there, letting Prince Thorne look his fill, and he did so greedily.

A flush stained my skin. I could feel it, and I was sure he could see it. It wasn’t brought on by embarrassment. I’d had men and women look upon my body, but I’d never had any look at me like Prince Thorne did. He gazed upon me as if he . . . he wanted to devour me.

I didn’t think I would mind being devoured.

His fingers pressed into the flesh of my hips as he leaned in. He was so damn tall that even seated, he had to bend his neck to press his lips to the skin below my navel. I gasped at the feel of his mouth there. The bridge of his nose grazed my skin as his head lowered and lowered. Spread as my legs were, there was nothing preventing his attention from dipping between my thighs. The muscles in my legs locked as I felt his warm breath against my center. I held my breath, staring at the top of his head. I didn’t know what he was about to— I mean, I had a whole litany of things he could do, but—

Prince Thorne’s lips grazed the sensitive flesh there, and then I felt his tongue slipping over me, in me for the briefest second. Air left my lungs as a bolt of desire swept through me. His mouth closed around the tightened nub of nerves, and he sucked— sucked hard. A sound came from me. A cry I’d never made as another dart of blade-shaped pleasure sliced through me.

His mouth left me. He leaned back, and thick lashes swept up, and I truly couldn’t get enough air to return to my lungs then. Dots of white appeared, sprinkled throughout his pupils, as he left me aching, throbbing.

“Beautiful,” he said, voice smoky.

My chest rose and fell heavily. “That is . . . that is kind of you to say.”

“It’s not kind of me.” He tugged on my hips. I grasped the edges of the tub, legs unsteady. Water sloshed against the sides as he guided me down so that I straddled his thighs. I shuddered as I felt the thick length of him brush my thigh. He slid his hands up my waist. Shivers followed his hands over my ribs and then across my chest, just below my collarbone. “I am simply speaking the truth.”

I held still as he gathered the strands of hair in his hands. A reedy breath left me as he lifted the hair, dragging it back behind my shoulders, and then there was truly nothing between his gaze and me.

The stars in his eyes turned luminous as his fingers lingered in my hair, as I looked over his features. I thought of the markings I’d seen on his face when he’d been unconscious— the trailing design that had been slightly raised. He’d said it had been blood and dirt, and it had to be true, because there was no sign of them now.

“When you first entered my quarters,” he said, “I wasn’t all that pleased by it, even though I enjoyed parts of our time in the gardens and before.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Very pleased.” His fingers made their way from my hair and danced across my arms, leaving a fine wake of tremors behind. Several seconds passed. “But I should’ve sent you from my chambers.”

“Why?”

“Because I have this distinctive feeling this isn’t exactly wise,” he said, and my stomach dipped. “Touch me, na’laa.”

I was caught between the unease his statement created and how his demand caused my pulse to spin. I released my grip on the tub, placing my hands on his chest. His back arched slightly, much like a cat’s when petted.

“I like being touched,” he said when my gaze lifted to his. “Do you?”

More than he could ever realize. Heart thrumming, I nodded as I dragged my fingertips down, under the water and over the corded muscles of his stomach.

I opened myself up as I explored his lower stomach, but there was just that shield of white as my fingers slipped beyond his navel. I glanced down. The faint glow edged his chest and waist, but I was unable to see through the suds. However, I knew what my hands were near. I could feel him resting against my thigh.

His thumbs swept over the tips of my breasts, causing me to jerk. “How long have you been in Archwood?”

It took me a couple of moments to answer. “For a few years.”

The Prince made another swipe over the center of my breast as his right hand followed the same direction as mine, slipping down my stomach and then under water. I sucked in a heady breath as his palm stopped just below my navel. His hand was so large that when that thumb began to move, it dipped between the crease of my thigh and hip.

“And in those few years that you’ve been here,” he said, the thumb at my breast moving in the same slow sweeps as the one along my inner thigh. His touch created a heat that spread across my skin and seeped into my blood. “How often have you proved to be quite the decadent distraction?”

I grinned, letting myself explore a little further, brushing my fingers against the thick, impossibly hard flesh between his legs. He made a sound, a deep one that came from his chest as I traced his rigid length. The flesh there was smooth yet gently ridged. Toward the base, he was thicker and rounder, almost as if the flesh was more . . . round there. I hadn’t looked close enough to notice that, and I’d never felt anything like it, nor had Naomi mentioned anything of the sort. I had no idea what that would feel like in . . . inside me, but my imagination . . .

Goodness.

My fingers floated away. I swallowed as muscles low in my stomach clenched. “That I cannot answer.”

“Interesting,” he remarked, and my hips jerked as his knuckles brushed the very center of me. The corners of his lips tipped up. The stars seemed to pulse in his eyes as his fingers dipped deeper along my thigh.

Feeling breathless, I shuddered as his fingers closed around my nipple. I tried to focus on anything other than what he was doing with his hands, but his touch was increasingly distracting, as was the feel of his flesh beneath my hands.