Page 61 of A Kiss of Flame
His hand slid up, running over her breast, brushing her peaked nipples. She gasped, arching toward his touch. “Ye meant to say insatiable,” he grumbled into her ear.
Barith grabbed her chin and gently turned her face to plant a kiss against her soft lips. Their kiss was long, lush, and sweet.
“Perhaps you are good for more than just body heat,” she teased when he pulled away.
He growled playfully, his heart full as he took her in. “Do you need anything?” he asked, glancing at her bandaged chest.
She shook her head. “I’ll have a bit more of Ismay’s tonic in a moment,” she told him. “But I’m okay. Just sore.”
Barith ran his fingers gingerly over her stomach, and they lay there in silence, savoring each other. Getting Levian to the island had been harrowing. He’d hoped she would rouse enough to snarl at him for flying her over the sea since he knew how much she hated to fly, but she hadn’t. She’d laid limp in his arms the entire way. It took hours for Ismay to get Levian stable and to stop the bleeding. Then, several more to get the mage’s feverto break. Barith had been in a state the whole time, only leaving long enough to show his face to his mother and meet with the Ceanadachs. He’d been beyond relieved to find her awake and out of bed when he’d come home.
Levian let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, and his heart thumped. He could very much get used to mornings like this. His tail flicked over her legs, and she reached down to stroke gently between her fingers.
“Mmm,” he rumbled. “Dinnae be doing that, lass, unless ye’re ready taewake the dragon.”
She let go of his tail and playfully slapped the side of his arse. “Wake the dragon?” she repeated with a laugh. “You truly are ridiculous.”
Barith rumbled, stroking back her wild curls. “I won’t deny that,” he told her.
She chuckled, and he chuckled, too. Barith felt deliriously happy. The only thing that would have made this better was having breakfast appear next to the bed.
He stroked her shoulder, words beginning to well up in his throat. They had much to discuss, but he wasn’t ready to break this moment just yet. “I think you’re well ahead of me,” he teased, continuing their topic of insatiability.
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused, her cheek still pressed against him.
“You’ve outpaced me where it counts,” he explained, pointing to her sex. “I thought ye were going to fall off the bed last night at one point.”
She snorted. “Keeping score, are we?”
“Oh, aye,” he drawled darkly. “I always keep score wi’ you, magick slinger.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
She chuckled, her slight frame rocking against his. “Then you know you just admitted that you’re losing,” she pointed out.
He smirked. “I’m happy to be down a few points,” he growled.
“Are you?” she questioned, sliding her hand down his chest, then further down his stomach, following the trail of auburn hair down to his cock. He grumbled and took in a shallow breath when her fingers grazed over him. He began to harden instantly under her touch.
“I could try to settle the score,” Levian purred, running her palm down his length. “To make it a fair fight.” Barith cursed as she slid her hand lower, cupping his balls.
A crash echoed in the other room, followed by an urgent bellow of, “Barith!”
Of all the things he wanted to hear while Levian was cupping his balls, the last was the voice of one of his sisters. Levian gasped, pulling her hand away instantly, and Barith cursed for an entirely different reason.
Cat knocked on his door—hard. “What?” he snarled as Levian tried to pull the blankets up over herself. Could he not have a moment’s peace when he was home?
“Ye better get dressed,” Cat said, sounding winded. “I only just got ahead o’ her.”
Barith furrowed his brows, confusion giving way to realization as the weight of his responsibilities hit him like a ton of bricks. He was supposed to be at breakfast this morning with his mother, Callum Ceanadach, and his betrothed to discuss the final terms of their mating contract. And he’d slept through it. He cursed loudly.
“Aye,” Cat agreed through the door. “She’s in a right rage.”
“Who?” Levian asked as Barith flew off the edge of the bed, nearly hitting the ceiling. He looked frantically around the floor for his pants.
“The Queen,” Cat replied when Barith didn’t.
“Where the bloody hell is he, then?” his mum snarled. Barith barely managed to button his pants and throw himself in front of the bed to shield Levian before Queen Eithne burst into the room.
Levian squeaked as a dragon—who could only be Barith’s mother—threw open the bedroom door and stepped inside. Barith stood between them, but there was no way the queen didn’t see her. Eithne stilled, taking in the scene, her already livid expression turning even more furious. Her gaze locked on her son and then shifted to her.