46. Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Six

A cry tore from Zylah’s lips at the size of him, the feel of him, the fullness, her hips rolling with his as he moved inside her.

There hadn’t been time after she’d accepted their bond for them to be together again. But being with him now was just as much a primal need as that first time, threads spiralling around them and pulling taut, every part of her winding tighter and tighter at the way he moved inside her.

“Fuck,” Holt groaned as his hands knotted in her hair, his mouth on hers in a bruising, searing kiss, love and devotion and lust and desire and longing all tumbling from him and lighting her up from the inside out, sparks of ecstasy dancing along her skin. “Zylah,” he ground out against her lips, his tongue parting hers to taste her, claim her.

Their movements were frenzied, wild, water sloshing and splashing, both of them just as starved for the other. Everything about him felt familiar. Everything about him felt right. Felt like coming home.

Holt leaned back to take her in, his hips maintaining a punishing rhythm, one hand sliding between them, fingers circling the sensitive spot between her legs. Her body responded to his touch immediately, pleasure soaring, her back arching as he brought her higher, higher.

“I couldn’t work out why my dreams felt so real,” he murmured, his other hand so tight over her hip Zylah knew it would leave a bruise. She didn’t care. She wanted him to mark her. To claim her in every way.

He growled his approval at her thought, his hand reaching up to fist in her hair as his fingers moved faster, his teeth grazing her throat. Zylah cried out at the heady mix of sensations, her release slamming into her and Holt’s mouth coming over hers to capture her moans, swallowing down every sound she made until her trembling eased.

“They were memories,” he told her softly as she shook in his arms, his hips slowing. “And there weren’t nearly enough of them.” He pulled out of her, flipped her around and pressed her hands to the edge of the bath, the broad tip of him pausing against her entrance for a moment as he brought a hand to her throat and tilted her head. “Look,” he commanded, his voice rough with need as he slammed into her from behind, another moan tumbling from her lips at the feel of him, at what she saw.

Directly ahead of them a large mirror leaned against the wall, and though Zylah’s tunnelled vision cut out most of their surroundings, she had an unimpeded view of their reflection. Of her flushed skin, the ecstasy lining her features, the way she met every one of his thrusts.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he told her, but her attention had already drifted to him. To his long fingers curled around her throat, the corded muscles of his arms flexing as he moved, his other hand gripping her hip as he drove into her over and over. The look of carnal desire that danced over his features, his eyes heavy with lust and love as he watched their reflection.

“You are more than a goddess, Zylah. You are everything.” His hands roamed her body, cupping her breasts and arching her back into him further, the angle and the depth of his thrusts making her see stars.

When she canted her head, lips seeking his, his mouth came over hers, a hand trailing between her breasts and resting between her legs. Zylah gasped into Holt’s mouth as he teased her sensitive flesh, her moan swallowed up by his kisses as everything coiled tight again at his touch.

She needed him to come undone, needed him just as untethered as she was, the way he moved inside her the only thing anchoring her to her body.

Not yet , he rumbled in her thoughts. Zylah was lost to him. So utterly lost as he coaxed another orgasm from her, her body ablaze beneath his and trembling in his arms as his hips slowed again, holding her to his chest and trailing kisses down her neck and shoulder.

She caught his gaze in the mirror, the raw emotion in his eyes and her heart swelled at the sight. His chest heaved, his breaths ragged as he moved inside her, slow, tender, drawing out the moment between them like he didn’t want it to end. Neither did she.

The threads burned bright between them, their bond shimmering through every cell in Zylah’s body, every part of her so utterly filled with him it had tears pressing at the corners of her eyes. He withdrew again, turning her to face him and resting her back against the tiles.

Emotion rippled from him as he took her in, a hand trailing her body, the other wrapping one of her legs around his waist as he lined himself up with her again. “Tell me this isn’t a dream,” he said roughly. “That I won’t wake up and be trapped in my own mind.”

Zylah reached a hand to his face, fingers curling in his hair and kissed him softly. “This is real,” she whispered against his lips, shuffling closer for him to ease into her and catching his groan as she took all of him.

She wrapped her other leg around his waist, hips rolling against his and her head falling back. He held her like that for a moment, letting her move against him, and Zylah knew he was watching her, committing every moment of it to memory.

His lips trailed down her exposed throat, over one of her breasts, his hips moving with hers, faster, faster, the friction between their bodies sending waves of pleasure rolling through her, an ache building in her again that had her gasping for breath as he caressed her peaked nipple with his tongue.

“Holt,” she rasped. I’m yours , she told him, her release catching her by surprise and barrelling through her.

The sound that tore from him in response was nothing short of feral, his movements wild, his thrusts brutal as he spilled into her, hands tangling in her hair and pulling her to him, their kiss bruising as his mouth found hers.

Their bond hummed bright between them, every part of her so utterly filled with him, no end to where she ended and he began. Just as it was meant to be, the two of them like this, hearts beating against each other’s chests, breaths mingling, eyes dancing over each other’s faces, drinking each other in in quiet awe.

“I love you,” he said thickly, brushing damp hair from her eyes. “And I will love you even when I am gone from this life. I will never stop loving you, Zylah.”

What she felt for him went beyond devotion, beyond love, tears pressing at the corners of her eyes again. One must have broken free because Holt swiped it away with a thumb, easing out of her and lifting her into the water, reaching for a bottle of something honey-scented to lather into her aching muscles. He must have heated the water again because it was still warm, steam still rising in the air around them.

A sigh escaped her as he massaged all the spots he’d gripped tightly, all the places her body had pressed into the tiles, peppering her skin with kisses as if he couldn’t get enough of her. When he rubbed the liquid soap into her hair to massage her scalp, Zylah’s eyes fluttered shut. They both needed this. This time to touch, to explore. To be together in all the ways they hadn’t been able to. Time was not on their side, but it never had been, and they were content to steal whatever moments they could before they faced what came next.

Holt cupped the back of her head as he lowered her into the water to rinse her hair, his other hand at her throat to steal another kiss that heated her skin instantly. A playful laugh rumbled in his chest, and he pulled her into his arms, wiping water from her face as she kissed him back. But she wasn’t done taking caring of him, either.

Content in his arms, she worked the muscles at his shoulders, his neck. Lathered soap into his hair, another rumble sounding from him when she raked her fingers against his scalp. All of it between kisses, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands trailing her body, her skin pebbling beneath his touch. He was already hard again between them. Holt’s eyes never tore away from her face, chuckling with her when frothy soap landed on his cheek.

He released her to lower himself beneath the water to wash everything away, his eyes still crinkled with laughter when he resurfaced. Zylah’s breath caught at the sight, a fierce possessiveness overtaking her as she pressed a hand to his heart, watching the droplets of water roll over his corded muscles, his scars. He was alive. He was hers. She was his.

Holt caught her hand. “You’re mine,” he agreed, and she knew he’d heard her. His arms banded around her body, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Zylah raised her hips to sink onto him again, both of them sucking in a shared breath as he held her to him, their movements soft and slow. “I love you,” she breathed against his lips, her ruined eyes holding his perfect forest green gaze.

Holt’s tongue swept between her lips at her words, and then they were moving, tenderly this time, every rise and fall of Zylah’s hips a declaration, every drive of his a promise. An admission. That nothing could keep them apart, not even death. Zylah rode him until the pleasure mounted, until they were panting and gasping against each other’s mouths and release found them both.

As much as she wanted nothing more than to remain at the court, naked and sated in Holt’s arms, Zylah had given Mae her word she’d return, and though she was loath to admit it, they needed the High Lady’s cooperation.

But she had made a promise, and Zylah intended to keep it. Holt didn’t object as they dressed, heated glances and knowing smiles passing between them as they pulled on each item of clothing, his hands reaching for her more than once to caress her skin, to steal another kiss from her swollen lips.

They’d managed a few hours of sleep, and though they’d needed it, neither of them had wanted to waste their time together with a decent bed available to them, their little spurts of slumber broken by their inability to keep their hands off each other.

The space around them bore the brunt of their desire: a shattered dresser where Holt had fucked her against it, a lounger with a splintered leg after he’d taken her over the back of it, a coffee table overturned, their bed sheets messy and twisted. Each moment a new first for them as a mated couple, another memory to etch into their souls.

“If I decide not to give Mae the antidote…” Zylah began, watching Holt tuck his shirt into his trousers, his hand swiping over the vee of muscle at his hip bone that she’d trailed her mouth over a few minutes before and causing her pulse to quicken. She focused on the clavaria mushroom that sat in her bag, the way it would dissolve in boiling water to make the antidote Mae needed for the alcane as she finished her braid.

Holt tipped her chin with finger and thumb, his other hand cupping her cheek. “Then we’ll face the consequences together.” His assurance danced over her skin, twined with his unwavering support and strengthening her resolve.

Zylah took one last look at their room, the ocean beyond the archway to the balcony as fierce and unrelenting as ever against the rocks far below. A shiver passed over her at what had almost come to pass, Holt’s comfort surpassing it as his fingers curled around hers and he evanesced them away.