Page 60 of A Touch of Shadows

Finn lifted his head and gazed at her. Light reflected in his eyes, golden and bright.

‘Wren?’ he whispered, not afraid, not exactly. But the awe filling his voice made her body ache even more with need for him. She could see the desperation in his eyes.

‘Come to me,’ she said and he dragged himself up the length of her. It seemed to take eternity. ‘Please, Finn.’

She reached out her hands to frame his face, staring up at him to see a wonder as he hung there, poised to enter her. His cock throbbed against her skin and Wren lifted her hips towards him again as if in offering. She caressed his length, so carefully it was barely a touch, but even so she could tell it almost undid him right there and then. He gasped, swallowed down a curse and froze beneath her exploratory fingertips.

Two could play games of torture and pleasure, she thought.

He frowned, staring down at her.

‘I want you, Finn,’ she told him, her voice breathless and desperate. ‘Inside me. With me. I want you forever.’

He frowned, hesitation written all over his expression. Didn’t he believe her? How could he not believe her?

His voice when he spoke was a whisper. ‘Even if I am a monster.’

A monster? He was glorious, beautiful. Everything about him. Nothing she saw in him could possibly be a monster. He was her champion. He was the truest heart she had ever known. Being a monster was her role. Didn’t he realise that? She was the freak here. And if she had lured him in and trapped him…

But he had kissed her first. True, it had been in the darkwood and he hadn’t known what he was doing, and anyway he had probably thought she was a dream at that point. But the fact remained.

Was it wrong that she couldn’t bring herself to regret it for an instant? None of it. Finn was her knight, her prince, her everything.

‘You could never be a monster,’ she told him and smiled as she pushed herself up on her elbows so she could press her lips to his. ‘You’re mine. I want you. All of you.’

For a moment it seemed he still held back, still struggled. As if he didn’t quite believe her. She watched him swallow, his throat working like a ripple, and she licked his skin there, tasting salt. And desire.

Her hair moved, curling strands around his wrists on either side, like black silken cords. She saw him glance down on either side, saw his eyes widen as the grip tightened, holding him there, binding him to her. Even the wild magic that flowed through her wanted him, the darkness and the light. Everything she was seemed determined to make him hers. To keep him with her forever.

He didn’t pull away. His pupils flared wide with desire.

Finn plunged into her, filling her so swiftly, so completely that her cry escaped in a rush of air to break off the illuminated ceiling above.

She held him and cradled him, and came up to meet his every stroke. Her hair twisted itself around him, binding them together, and she arched her back to take him deeper. She pulled him to her and trapped him inside her, her body tightening around him again and again until another orgasm dragged itself from her.

Finn cried out her name as he tipped over the edge after her, his eyes closing tight as pleasure ripped through him. Through her.

He held her to him and kissed her skin over and over again.

She was lost in him, and it was wondrous.

She never wanted to be found again.

CHAPTER 35

FINN

Finn knew what he was, knotted with muscle and scarred, bruised from the beating he’d taken, but Wren didn’t hesitate to explore him all night and his skin shivered with delight. Her fingertips were so soft, so gentle, and yet eternally demanding. Her hair tangled around him, holding him down until he was helpless before her. And he did not care.

She wasn’t afraid, not of anything. She was fire and shadows, all the wonders of the magical world. Everything made sense with her in his arms. Finally. As if he had found some missing part of himself, something he needed to cling to forever.

Was it the effects of magic?

If it was, would he care?

What if you don’t want this? she had asked him, giving him the moment he needed to turn away, to refuse her, to grasp the last thread of sanity available to him.

But not want it? He lived for it.