Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Anash

My appetite has returned in full force.

I sink to my knees and bat my lashes prettily in the way I know makes Zenith melt. I haven't fed properly. Too busy. Too tired. Too worried. I crave him, need the ardor his pleasure can bring me, like an itch beneath my skin I can't scratch on my own.

But more than that, I desperately want to reconnect with my lover, my mate. I need to tell him the truth. Tell him everything. But if I can't have that, I'll take what I can have.

His body.

I wet my lips, and he tracks the movement. "I would suck you."

His eyes darken. My mouth waters. But instead of getting his cock out for me, he slips his hands beneath my armpits and lifts me. The kiss is too gentle. Too careful.

I nip his lower lip. "Won't you feed me?"

"Of course I'll feed you. Gladly." He nuzzles my neck, his breath tickling my throat. "But let's have a wash first, yes? I've been too long without one."

I can't hold in my frustrated whine, though he makes a strong point. "All right, if we hurry."

Zenith's deep chuckle is so unassumingly sexy I melt. He runs the water and strips off while I watch, my desire simmering as each new bit of skin is revealed. I stroke myself, always ready for him, though his cock hangs relaxed. Even soft, it's a lovely sight, heavy and thick.

On a shelf next to the tub sits a selection of vials and a yellow square of soap. Zenith pops the cork out of a silver vial and sniffs. He must not like the scent because he returns that one and tries another. This one meets his approval, and he pours the contents into the water. The steam billows in a cloud of citrus and ginger.

Watching him handle dainty vials with big hands, knowing they'll soon be on me, is mesmerizing.

He catches me staring and smiles. "Come."

I can do nothing else. He lifts me again and places me in the tub to wash first. How I wish it were big enough for us both, but it's not. Perhaps if Zenith were an average sized man, but he's not. Ah well, more bulk and muscles for me to worship.

He lathers soap onto a cloth and washes me all over. I'm docile in his hands, turning this way and that for this sweet, soft treatment when what I crave is to be bent over the four-poster bed and pounded into next month. Fucked so hard I forget the secrets between us. Gorged on his ardor until I'm so filled with him there's no room left for soldiers or royal dinners or war.

This delicate bathing leaves too much space between us. Space for thoughts to crowd in. Space for reality to intrude.

"Zenith." My voice is a breathy whine. I hate it. I want him to shut me up, preferably with that big, fat, juicy co?—

"Yes, my love?" He trails fingers gently down my spine.

My love. The words steal the next breath from my chest, leaving me empty. Unworthy.

"Tell me how you're doing," he says. "I've been worried about you out here. How do you fare?"

He's so genuine, my gargoyle. So well meaning. So concerned with anything he believes to be his responsibility, and now I find myself firmly on that list.

I never thought I'd have someone like him. Not for me, the half demon with royal blood. Yet somehow here he is, treating me as though I'm precious.

A partner like Zenith is what I've most wanted in the world. It hurts my heart that I haven't been truthful with him. Shame draws my shoulders inward.

"Hey, hey, what is it?" he asks, tender. "How can I help?"

"I'm hungry," I mumble. It's true enough, even if it's not the answer he's looking for.

"You did say we should hurry." I hear his smile in his words, and when I look up, it's also on his face. "Hold your breath."

He dunks me under before I'm ready, but it's fine. I like his hands moving me around. I sputter to the surface as he massages my scalp, rubbing the ash and dirt from my hair. Washing away the smell of campfire and replacing it with lemony cleansing oil.

"Now rinse," he says.

This time I sink down myself. As my ears adjust to being underwater, the sound changes, muffling anything real and leaving the murky, low-pitched warble of Zenith's hands rinsing my hair. I find the odd hum of water comforting. It reminds me of our floating lesson, which seems like ages ago, distant, and I'm glad I could share a hint of this with him.

I surface, wipe my face, and blink open my eyes. "Your turn."

We switch places. I wrap myself in a towel to dry off a bit, then select a bathing cloth and lather it with the citrus-scented bar of soap.

It's always a treat to touch him like this. To map his body with suds, rubbing away the dirt from our travels. I set aside my hunger, my need for him, my chaotic desire to be so close and not yet joined for the simple pleasure of bathing him. The demon can wait. My mate is a gentle soul despite his rank in the queen's army, and he needs this pampering as much as I need what's to follow.

He leans into my caress eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy, muscles softening as I massage the knots.

I wash him thoroughly and with that done, let my fingers wander where I want to touch most. Down the ripples of his abdomen to the patch of hair leading to his most sensitive spots.

Ah, yes. Finally, he's roused. I'll have him fully hard in no time. I know just what he likes. Slow strokes. Gentle pressure. Teasing caresses under the plump head along his shaft.

He opens his eyes, and though his hunger may not match my ravenous mood, it's there, glimmering in his gaze. He wants me.

Something deep within breathes a sigh of relief. I still have him.

A coil of simmering anticipation runs through me as his cock hardens in my hand and he leans in for a kiss. This time with more urgency and less finesse, the way I like it.

He rises from the water, rivulets cascading over naked flesh in all the places I want to run my tongue. Lap up the drops one by one. Savor the taste of him beneath the wet.

But before I can get my mouth on him, he grabs me. Lifts me as he's climbing out of the bathing tub and holds me tight to his chest. Skin on glorious skin.

We tumble onto the bed, dampening the coverlet with our wrestling, rolling over each other and clinging with legs, arms, mouths.

Oh, how I've needed this. How I've longed for this coupling. The heat of him against me. The weight of him on me. The press of our cocks together, hard and eager.

"Yes, yes, yes." I thrust against him.

"Like this?" His lips move over my skin. "Or do you want more?"

"More." Always more. As he bends me in half, I let out an undignified squawk. My cheeks heat, but he likes the silly noise. His proud smirk says as much.

His fingers, already oiled, find my entrance and slide inside me.

I'm not complaining. "But how?"

He chuckles low. "From the vials at the bath. You didn't notice?"

"Had other things on my mind, I guess." I wriggle, urging him deeper.

"I'll bet you did." He unerringly finds my sweet spot and glides over it again and again, all while pressing little kisses to my inner ankle.

I fist the bedsheets and succumb to this decadent, incremental stretching, which slowly turns me feral. With his free hand, Zenith trails a finger from my sac to my leaking tip, leaving a path of oversensitive skin in its wake.

"You're teasing," I say through clenched teeth.

"You don't mind," he says, confident.

He's right. I don't. Not when I know how much he likes to draw things out. Every touch lingers. Every kiss endlessly burns into the next one.

I slip my tail between his legs and wrap it around his cock. He's not the only tease in this bed. I stroke with just enough pressure to be tantalizing but not satisfying.

"Put this in me."

"You in a hurry?"

"Maybe I want to come twice before dinner."

He grins. That does it. He removes his fingers, and I guide his cock into me with my tail. We moan in tandem, a sultry chorus of two, his voice and mine joining just like our bodies.

The first time comes quickly. Sensations so pure as to steal my breath and curl my toes. I shiver and shake and shudder, and he fucks me through my orgasm.

The second is a glorious slow build, the two of us rocking together, panting in each other's ears, then skin slapping skin like storm winds over the sea.

I feel Zenith's pleasure as sure as I do my own, sensing it from deep within.

As the pressure intensifies and his need to release crescendos, the incubus inside me gapes his maw, eager to feed.

It should be easy. It's always easy. Natural, like breathing. But this time I struggle. My body quivers under his, desperate to come, tight as a bowstring yanked back, but I can't let the arrow fly. Can't drink up his pleasure in the way I want.

I arch, wriggling, bending up for more friction, more pressure, more of Zenith. "Please," I whine, but he's lost in the grip of his climax, pumping inside me, stretching me, filling me. Why can I relax and enjoy it?

Instead, I squint my eyes shut and buck my hips, thrusting in his hand. I give over all control to my incubus half, wild beneath him, writhing and gasping as I try to feed and only manage a trickle when what I need is the raging flood I'm used to.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

Zenith comes too and works me in earnest, hand flying over my shaft, twisting at the top in the way that usually works for me. And it does. It does. I release. My seed coats his fingers and slicks my belly, and it's nice. But I don't want nice. I want wrecked. I don't want satiated. I want stuffed.

His mouth lands on mine. I open for him, and he sucks my lower lip. Again, nice. But the torrent that used to flow between us is a pleasant trickle instead of a powerful stream.

This is my fault. I've closed myself to him where I should be open.

I should never have agreed to lie to him. I have to fix this, no matter the cost.

He trails kisses along my jaw to my throat and murmurs against my skin. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what's wrong."

"I will." I'll put my trust in Zenith, as he's done for me, and allow the cards to fall where they may. "I will."

Rapping at the door startles us. "A meal waits for you in the dining hall. Shall I show you the way?"

Zenith glances at me to answer, but I'm frozen. "We need a few minutes," he says for us both.

"After dinner." I place my hands on his warm, bristled cheeks. "I'll tell you everything."

"And I will listen." We kiss. He rolls off me and fetches the bathing cloth to wash us down.

My stomach twists. I hope dinner is a short and simple affair.