Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)

Darren pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.

“Tell me to stop, love,” he whispered.

I didn’t tell him to stop. I couldn’t.

I needed this. I wanted him.

I was tired of fighting myself.

I pulled Darren to me and pressed my lips to his, giving him the answer he needed.

And then Darren’s hands were making quick work of my bodice, orange beads splaying across the forest, while I clawed at his shirt.

Darren kissed me so deeply I forgot my own name. The last of my bodice slipped away and his fingers rode up my ribs to the swell of my breasts. My sharp intake of breath caught me by surprise.

For a moment that was enough. Then he dipped his head, his lips leaving a trail of liquid fire against my skin. I couldn’t breathe. I was quite sure I was rasping his name like a prayer, again and again.

I felt Darren’s smile through the indentation of his lips.

Then he dropped one hand. Darren cupped my knee and raised my leg, bringing me closer than before. There was an ache in the pit of my stomach, and all I knew was I needed more.

I was dying, and I didn’t know why.

My fingers raked across his arms, shoulders, and chest following the dips and hollows of muscle and bone. I tried to hold back. I tried to memorize the planes of his body, but it was impossible not to move. Not when all of my senses were screaming; my world was wrapped in cinnamon and cloves. I needed to touch every inch of him, and it wasn’t enough.

Darren’s mouth found the base of my throat, and I cried out as his hand slipped down, and then up.

Time stopped. The pit in my stomach was no longer a lonely ember, it was an inferno and Darren’s eyes were heavily lidded flames.

He slowly slid me down the base of the tree, going down to his knees. And then all I saw were stars.

I was dining with the gods, gasping on air.

After, Darren rose up, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me hard. A long, desperate kiss that promised me everything and the world.

And then he drew me to the ground.

I tugged his body over mine, fumbling with the drawstrings at his waist, desperation and need taking ahold of my limbs.

His eyes met mine, and it was just the two of us.

“I love you, Ryiah.” He whispered the words only once and I was lost.

Lost and in love. In lust. Over my head. Over my mind, body, and soul.

For hours the two of us ceased to be Ryiah and Darren. The Black Mage and the traitor who would cause so much grief to come.

We were the boy and the girl.

We were a fairy tale. We were dancing in the forest.

We were everything and nothing, and it was the one thing we both needed to be.





10





We didn’t return until the sun rose the next morning. I watched it with his arms around me, the two of us standing at the base of the rushing falls, and that moment was perfect. Perfect like all the ones that came before.

A pale light settled over the stream like a slow drawn breath, turning the dark river into a rippling tide of crystalline white. I could have stood on the bank forever. The set in Darren’s shoulders spoke the same.

We spent an hour hiking through the forest. Not once did he release my hand. I held my breath, refusing to let anything spoil this day for as long as I could.

We rode back to the palace in silence. Our guards waited with heavy scowls, but the reprimands never came. No one said a word. Blayne smirked, and Cassius raised a brow, but the rest of the court was blissfully silent.

No one remarked on our state of undress. I could not have looked worse if I tried.

Even the prince, he was sporting bruises and patches of dirt along his arms and legs, his shirt missing buttons and stained brown from the mud.

Darren dismounted, swinging me from the saddle, only to walk me right back into our chamber without another word.

He grabbed my waist with a grin and slammed the door shut behind us.

And then it began again.

When the prince finally left, I was breathless and sore. Dirt and bits of grass smeared the sheets. I felt my cheeks heating as I recalled the way my name had tasted in his mouth.

The way he had shouted it the night before.

The way I had cried out his.

I couldn’t wait for it to happen again.

I washed up and spent several hours combing the knots out of my hair, preferring to bathe without my ladies-in-waiting. I wasn’t ready for their questions to follow. When I finally left the chamber, I was floating, for once my mind blissfully silent.

“Well, someone sure is glowing.” Paige lounged outside the chamber with a cheeky smile.

My fingers flew to my face, and I knew I was blushing. I gave the knight an embarrassed grin, choosing silence instead of words.

“No chatter either. That prince must be good with his hands, or is it his—”

“Paige!” I cut my guard off with a squeal.

She was doubling over in laughter.

“That is not a nice joke.”

“I bet he was good.”

“Say another word…” I warned.