5. Tahlia

Marius’s chambers boasted a grand view of the starry sky. She stood looking out at the silver sparks of light as Marius poured her a crystal goblet of watered wine, then made one for himself. She drank it all in one go, enjoying the slight burn of the liquid down her throat.

“Titus is so good at those mock dives,” she said thinking of training. “I need to work on that.”

“You’ll get there. And you’ll get there faster than Titus ever could have dreamed when he was a recruit.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know.” Tahlia ran a finger over the rim of the goblet. “I find it tough to focus on that movement when I have to watch my surroundings.”

“You don’t quite trust your unit yet. That’s understandable.”

“I do. Well, except maybe for Maiwenn.”

“You don’t truly trust the other riders.” He drained his goblet and put it on the square table by his ridiculously massive bed. He tapped Tahlia’s forehead. “Up here, yes, you trust them, but in here,” he said, placing one large finger above her heart, “you aren’t there yet. It’ll take a battle or a difficult mission for your heart to believe fully in your fellow riders.”

“And that’s normal?”

Taking her goblet and setting it beside his, he gave her a rare smile. It stole her breath. Sunrises had nothing on a Marius smile.

“Completely typical of a new knight.” Taking her hand in his, he kissed each one of her fingertips. Then he pulled her close and held her. She melted into the divine warmth of his arms and the feel of his strength.

“You fly like a goddess,” he whispered, his breath hot on the shell of her ear.

Satisfaction curled like a cat around her heart. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

A quiet hum of amusement echoed in his broad chest.

“Now,” she said, stepping back a little and looking him over. “I seem to recall someone telling me I could take charge.”

He bowed his head and held out a hand, so courtly and full of restrained power. Want crashed over Tahlia and she took an uneven breath. He lifted his head and gave her a heated look.

“What do you wish of me, my lady?”

“Remove my clothing, one piece at a time. But we will take turns.”

With a wicked grin, he began unlacing her stiff leather vest. When it was loosened sufficiently, he tugged it over her head. He reached for her tunic, but she held up a finger to stop him.

“Ah, ah, ah. We are taking turns, remember?” She started working on the laces of his vest while he ran his hands through her hair, undoing her braids and sending the tie and pins fluttering and clicking to the floor. Every sweep of his palm against her scalp sent wonderful shivers down her neck. Together, they maneuvered his vest free.

Next, he unbuckled her belt and threw it down. He slipped her tunic off, his eyes glittering with want. She hadn’t worn any upper undergarments today exactly for this surprise moment. She knew her breasts weren’t the most luscious in the kingdom by any stretch, but they seemed to do the job, and she was proud to bring out that feral look in such a disciplined male.

“Tahlia…” Marius’s voice had dropped to a gravelly tone that usually meant he was losing patience.

“Now yours.” She pointed to his tunic.

Growling, he ripped his in two and threw it beside her hairpins. “My lady.” His words sounded like an order and a plea twisted into one.

“And the belt. Oh, and go ahead and remove those boots and trousers. Maybe put the boots back on after? Hmm.” She tapped her chin, delighting in the way he violently discarded his belt, tugged off his trousers and boots, shed his short pants, then slid his boots back on. He was following her orders, but tension rolled from him in waves that made Tahlia’s thighs clench in anticipation.

Another growl issued from the High Captain as he stood before her in nothing but his boots. “You have tested me enough, my lady.”

His body was worthy of all the gossip surrounding him. Black and gold inkings trailed down the hard-wrought muscles of his chest and abdomen. It was wild how narrow his waist was considering how incredibly large he was. She ran her hands down the smooth, warm skin of his torso, and he pulled in a quick breath, his head falling back.

“My lady,” he begged. “Please.”

Cheeks and chest flushing, she set her fingers along his sharp hipbones. Heat flooded her body, her bones going liquid. She eyed one of his more…fascinating areas. “Are all males with Mistgold blood this, umm, blessed?”

He snarled and lunged, lifting her and landing on the bed in one breathtaking movement. His weight sank into her. It was the greatest sensation. He pinned her to the cloud-like duvet with his hips; the pressure from his obvious desire for her threw sparks of pleasure over her flushed skin. A moan escaped her. Gods, he felt amazing.

His lips claimed hers as he bent his head to kiss her chest. His tongue flicked over the peak of her breast and around and under, here and there, making her squirm beneath him. She gripped his moon-white hair in rough handfuls. Arching against him, savoring the friction of his body on hers, she whispered his name.

With surprisingly careful movements, he moved on to taking off her boots and leather trousers.

He stopped, inhaling sharply. She hadn’t worn any undergarments below the navel either. His mouth came down on her hip, his tongue touching the hot skin there and lower. Pleasure simmered in her blood and her heart pounded so loudly she knew he could hear it. But she wasn’t overly worried about it. He cared deeply for her, and while they weren’t mated yet, she dared to hope. A little overexcitement on her part surely wouldn’t ruin the whole thing.

Kissing a trail between her thighs, his hands wandered around the back of her knees. He shifted her up, closer, and her breath caught. His hair fell over her hips and stomach, tickling her as his mouth drew pleasure from her body like a bard draws music from a lute. She could die now and be happy forever, honestly. His hands slid down and he gracefully took off her boots and socks. His thumb circled the center of her heel and moved upward, eliciting a gasp from her.

“I order you to take command now,” she whispered, feeling powerful and incredibly grateful for finding him—her friend, her shelter, her challenge.

A smile like a sword’s edge glimmered along his lips, showing his fangs. He bent and lifted something from the floor. He held it up and raised his eyebrows. His whip.