Page 199 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

She didn’t respond. At least, not verbally, though her eyes glazed over with want and my favorite deep pink blush traveled all the way down her creamy skin. I traced its path with my mouth while I reached up to slide the neat stacks of papers on my desk out of the way, making room for my wife.

There was only one priority that mattered right now, only one task that needed accomplished, and it didn’t have a singlestorms-damned thing to do with the endless amount of work on my desk.

She let out a small squeal of surprise as I hoisted her onto the desk. Then she rested back on her arms, shaking her glorious hair out behind her and giving me a full, unobstructed view of the body I had tasted every inch of, each perfect curve framed by black silk and crimson curls.

My lips were back on her skin, drawn to her by a magnetic force I had no desire to resist. I teased my way up to her graceful collarbone, the subtle muscles in her shoulder, and the sensitive skin of her neck, each of her ragged exhales bringing me closer to coming completely undone.

“Evander,” she gasped when my teeth grazed her neck.

I froze, trying to recapture the control she was steadily unraveling, just as she always did when she said my name like she was begging and ordering me all at once.

Had I ever told her that? If not, I was sure as storms going to rectify that now.

“Der’mo, Lemmikki,” I said in a low tone, my hands clenching around her. “Do you have any idea what the sound of my name on your lips does to me?”

A shiver went through her, bringing her even closer to me until my patience fled me entirely. Being with her like this was the closest I came to deliverance, the only fragment of redemption in a soul that had been long past saving by the time it joined with hers.

The distraction from the past few weeks was no excuse for how I had let our time pass us by when the future ahead of us was uncertain, at best; when we both needed to communicate with so much more than words.

I could tell she felt it, too, the contradictory mix of relief and remorse seeping through the cracks of our mutual desire,mingling with our ragged breaths and finally dissolving in the frigid night air when we rediscovered ourselves in one another.

Just as it was always supposed to be. Just as it alwayswouldbe.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

Rowan wasn’t sleeping like she usually did.

After last night, I resolved to be back in our bed earlier. Even if I didn’t get any more sleep, at least she would.

My mind swam with the never-ending list of things to deal with, not least of which was Iiro’s uncharacteristic and ominous silence.

Crane had sent back word that they would stand with Bear, and Wolf did as well. I had been concerned on that last front, since Nils had been fonder of my father than he was of me, but he had stood by his loyalty in the end.

Taras and Mila would be back any day with word from Arès. I suspected he would stand with us as well, since he had never signed off on Iiro’s monarchy to begin with.

Not to mention the fact that this was his daughter’s clan now.

In theory, everything was falling in line.

Then why do I have the feeling I’m missing something?

I thought that I would feel freer with my father gone, but his ghost still walked these halls, reminding me of everything I had ever done for him. Because of him.

Reminding me that no matter what the people thought or how much they were forced to submit to me, half of my clan still cowered in terror when I walked into a room.

With good reason.

Which made Rowan all the more spectacular. Not only had she never truly been afraid of me, but day by day, she was reminding the people of our humanity, as she had with her snowball fights in the villages.

The court was warming up to her, even if most of the lords still didn’t know quite what to think, and the villagers were beginning to love her. Not only because she brought them food, but because she brought them laughter, something that they sorely needed after the dark reign of my father.

Tonight, she raised her eyebrows when I slid into bed well before midnight. She was still awake, which was telling in and of itself, and the firelight illuminated a pensive expression on her perfect features.

I held out an arm, and she eagerly nestled herself into me. Gently, I trailed my hand from her shoulder down to her wrist and back again. She sighed, equal parts relief and something I couldn’t quite identify.

“Lemmikki,” I said quietly. “What is it?”

“Do you think that I’m a monster, for the way I killed Ava?” She said the words quietly, shifting until she was laying back on her pillows and staring at the canopy overhead.