Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

E vaine gulped in tiny, panting breaths as she waited for Alaric to respond to her outrageous demand.

As a cub she’d been known as Evaine the Bold, yet it had taken more courage than she’d thought possible to leave her bedchamber and walk to the king’s library. However, she’d then seen a sight now seared in her mind for eternity: Alaric, half-naked, touching himself.

Thinking of her so intently he’d given her a nickname.

Show me that sweet cunt. Is it burning to be filled, Evie? Do you need my cock so deep you feel it in your soul?

Only such raw, lusty words could have provoked her to disrobe. But although she stood naked, the chilly night air caressing her skin, Alaric’s glittering gaze might ensure she never felt cold again.

“Well?” she said imperiously, folding her arms and tapping her foot, but her gaze kept returning to the tempting sight of his huge bobbing cock. What would it be like to hold that length in her hands? To stroke it? And the pearly fluid coating the swollen, almost purple head…what did that taste like?

A slow smile curled Alaric’s lips as he removed his hose, revealing long, heavily muscled legs. Then he prowled toward her, a hunter, an alpha male, every inch King of the Western Lands. “You dare to hide your breasts from me?” he said slowly as he circled her. “I forbid it.”

“Oh?” Evaine replied unsteadily, as his dark, delicious scent wrapped itself around her like a cloak, hardening her nipples and provoking a gush of moisture between her thighs. “You forbid it? Someone alert the realm!”

“Do you know what happens to saucy-tongued princesses?” said Alaric as he halted behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his fire-warmed skin. Then one big hand pressed against the middle of her back.

Branding her.

Evaine whimpered, her arms falling to her sides, and her breasts thrusting forward, high and proud.

How does he have such power over me?

Involuntarily, her hips circled and her arse brushed against his cock.

Alaric groaned and she felt the moment he succumbed to need, oh-so-briefly grinding himself against her. Then his hand moved, sliding up her spine until it gripped her neck. To someone else it might have been a frightening hold, yet Evaine smiled as a rush of heady delight flooded through her. He was attempting to keep her still to regain control. While this mighty wolf king already commanded her body, he was equally affected by the heat between them.

“Why, Alaric,” she purred, circling her hips deliberately this time, rubbing her arse against the stone-like shaft pressing against her. “Does it hurt to be that hard? To want me so very much?”

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and without thinking, Evaine spread her thighs. Such a raw, primitive sound demanded it.

Now, he chuckled, his hand moving away from her neck to slide down and cup her right breast. After rubbing his thumb back and forth across her nipple he pinched it, the brief pain sizzling directly to her core.

Evaine moaned.

“Poor princess,” he crooned as his strong fingers tormented the tender peak to throbbing sensitivity. Then he did the same to her left breast. “I wonder what you need most? For me to suck those pretty pink nipples until they are the color of wine…or to stroke between your legs? You’re so wet. It must ache terribly.”

“Call me Evie,” she gasped. “Not princess. I like Evie…oh…”

Her eyes closed briefly as his mouth trailed across her shoulder, his teeth lightly scraping her sensitive skin. The gentle, almost affectionate kiss was a stark contrast to his gloriously rough treatment of her nipples, far too much for her swirling mind. Then his hand continued down, over her ribs and belly, halting just at the top of her mound.

How dare he stop!

Her eyes flew open at the unacceptable teasing and she jerked her hips, blatantly attempting to move his hand to the spot where she needed it most.

“Very well… Evie ,” Alaric growled, although he sounded pleased rather than annoyed. “If you wish me to touch your cunt…beg for it.”

Beg? A royal she-wolf? He was quite mad.

“There will be snow in summer before I do so…ohhh,” said Evaine, as his fingers brushed the thicket of crisp curls between her thighs, agonizingly close to her swollen pleasure bud, but skating past it to caress her inner thighs. “ Alaric …”

“Something to say?”

Words? He wanted words? How could she reply when she scarcely knew which way was up? Nothing mattered right now but easing that relentless ache.

“Pleasure me,” Evaine choked out. “Immediately.”

“I want to, very much,” he replied lazily, as his fingertips swirled a pattern on her inner thighs and his tongue flicked the side of her neck. “There is nothing I’d like more than to hear your scream of pleasure, to feel your sweet honey drench my fingers. But I haven’t heard the necessary entreaty.”

She trembled, her body feverish, her entire world reduced to one need. If she didn’t spend, she would surely die. “What must I say? Tell me. Tell me exactly.”

As though offering approval, his fingertips began circling back up toward her mound, his thumb knuckle parting her bush. “Just three little words, Evie… please, my king .”

“Please…my king.”

His feral snarl filled her with a giddy joy, but Alaric was a benevolent conqueror, his thumb swiftly moving to tease her pleasure bud.

Evaine cried out. Surely nothing in the world could feel this good.

“Oh, you like that, beautiful Evie?” Alaric growled as he kissed her shoulder. “What else do you need? My fingers inside that burning hot cunt?”

“Do it,” she gasped. “I can’t bear the ache. Please. Please .”

Alaric didn’t say a word, but his big hand roughly cupped her mound. Claiming possession. Claiming her .

Next, two thick fingers eased inside her wet heat and Evaine writhed as her untouched channel was stretched for the first time. Greedy for more, the sensation of fullness, the light friction, she pressed against his hand…and cried out again as his fingertip rubbed against a spot so sensitive that she bucked against him.

“There?” Alaric asked, sounding exceedingly smug.

Evaine scowled. If she didn’t crave more of this divine stroking, she would have crushed his instep. How could she retaliate and level the scales? “Touch yourself,” she whispered. “Stroke your cock while you pleasure me.”

He inhaled unsteadily. “Not just saucy-tongued, but lusty as well. How to manage such a wicked princess?”

“You can but try,” she said simply, her head falling back against his massive chest as his fingers thrust inside her, his thumb teasing her pleasure bud until she thought she might scream. Something was building inside her, building and building like a rock gathering speed as it tumbled down a hill.

Desperate to discover, Evaine ground her mound against him. Yet moments later it was all so much better, so much hotter, when his knuckles scraped against her arse, the smooth, silken weight of his heavy cockhead slapping against her skin as he handled himself. Their combined scents, her wetness, his seed, the light sheen of sweat and desire were dizzying, but his fingers were nothing short of magical. How did he know exactly the depth to plunge them? How to twist just a little when he rubbed so it felt like her whole channel was being caressed? And the pressure on her swollen bud…nearly perfect, but…

She whimpered.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Alaric rasped in her ear.

“Faster,” Evaine moaned. “Harder. I want…I want…I need …”

She could scarcely speak, yet somehow, he knew. With the heel of his hand pressing firmly against her mound, Alaric added a third finger. Evaine gasped at the luscious impalement, the erotic sensation of being held up solely by his fingers and entirely at his mercy, exactly what she craved. Then he knitted the three together and twisted them, rubbing against that internal spot that made her writhe.

“Yes,” snarled Alaric into her ear as he bit her shoulder. “Spend for me, sweetheart. I want to hear your pleasure. I want everyone to hear it. You’re so beautiful. So lusty. And the way your sweet cunt is gripping my fingers… Goddess …”

The wicked words tumbled her over the edge. Bucking against him, Evaine opened her mouth and unleashed a sound she didn’t even know she possessed: a long, guttural howl of pure ecstasy. Shortly afterward he roared, and hot seed lashed across her lower back. But that wasn’t enough, for Alaric smeared it over her skin. An act of pure possession.

Evaine sighed in complete contentment as she sagged against him, panting for breath. Yet then she went rigid as a shocking pain seared across the back of her neck. “Ow. Ow!”

“Evie?” said Alaric, his concern unmistakable as he carefully withdrew his fingers. “Are you sore? Is this too much?”

“My neck,” she replied, wincing and lifting a hand to swipe at it.

Wait. What was that?

“Alaric,” she continued, now alarmed. “Can you see anything under my hair? It feels rough. Bumpy.”

He gingerly lifted her hair. “No. No !”

“What? What is it?”

There was a long, long silence. So long, Evaine trembled in fear. Then one blunt finger traced a shape over and over, as though he didn’t understand either.

“It’s two stars,” said Alaric eventually, in a tone she’d never heard him use. One of utter confusion…and a little wonder. “Above that, a crown.”

Evaine froze. She’d just seen those symbols! “The royal mating mark? My mother had that mark on her nape. Your mother does, too. My father had it on his wrist.”

He stepped back, and the distance felt like a chasm, the cool air now making her shiver.

“But this cannot be,” Alaric said hoarsely. “I’m already mated and she is dead .”

Still reeling, Alaric struggled to regather his scattered senses.

Pleasuring Evaine, drowning in their combined scents, hearing the most perfect sound imaginable: the long, strong howl of a she-wolf finding sweet release because of his touch, then staking his claim and spending all over her soft skin…nothing could be more satisfying. It had all felt so right here in his library, the place where they’d first met.

But the royal fated mate mark suddenly appearing on the nape of her neck had shocked him to the core. The symbols had risen so swiftly after Evaine reached her peak. With Theda, he had no idea when it happened; as he’d woken with heavy limbs and a foggy head, the mark had just been there. But the two stars and crown looked very different on Evaine—a flawless celestial blue against her creamy skin, the lines so precise and even, as though they’d been stamped by Leto herself. Whereas Theda’s neck—and his wrist—had been mottled pink with inflammation, the lines a little rough and the color noticeably lighter.

Because they’d been etched.

Had Theda chosen a sleeping draught to dull her pain? Or was it only him who’d been drugged?

Alaric pressed a closed fist to his lips, unsure whether to roar, rampage through the castle, or simply sit and rock with mad laughter until some kind soul dumped icy water over his head. How terribly humiliating it was to concede that he’d been so easily and neatly caught in a trap.

“Alaric?” said Evaine softly, jolting him from the cage of his chaotic thoughts. “I can see you are sorely troubled. Talk to me.”

He rubbed his jaw. As a diplomat, as a king, he always had the words to reassure or explain. Yet right now he was as muddled and uncertain as a traveler newly arrived on foreign shores. “Forgive me. I know…I know I have ruined something special—”

“Nothing is ruined,” Evaine countered, her gaze steady in the bright glow of the well-lit library. “As long as I understand what is in your heart.”

Everything within urged him to step forward and hold her close. But naked Evie was far too tempting and the words that needed to be said were far too important. “I feel like I’m crossing the marshlands blindfolded, with no damned clue if my next step will be solid ground or swamp to suck me under. I truly thought I was mated already. But it was all a lie. Your mark is genuine, but I had to watch it happen to know the difference.”

Her brow furrowed. “How so?”

Alaric gritted his teeth and looked away. “I met Theda at a banquet in Gloucester. My father had recently passed, my mother was in seclusion, and I felt no desire for revelry. But I’d promised to attend. She was the daughter of a noble family. We danced, drank wine…well, I drank and she fetched more. One particular goblet tasted a little different, but she urged me to finish it swiftly then gestured to the door…next thing I remember, I woke up in her chamber with a mating mark on my wrist and her soothsayer demanding I crown her queen without delay. Word spread across the realm before I could even take a breath…but everyone was so happy at the thought of a mating ceremony and the prospect of heirs. Even Mother was pleased, initially…so I did it.”

“That wretched imposter tricked you while you were grieving ,” said Evaine slowly. “Such evil is almost unfathomable. How very Hera-like. Theda and her accomplices must have planned that very carefully. An invitation, a sleeping potion, an etcher, her soothsayer arriving at just the right time.”

“It never felt quite right. But I didn’t believe I deserved better, after…after being away from Blackstone when Father passed. I was judging some foolish dispute in Cardiff, thinking myself very grand and important. I should have been here . Some part of me knew he wasn’t long for this earth, but I thought I had time. I didn’t. When Leto calls a faithful servant home to glory amongst the stars, nothing can change that,” finished Alaric, his heart heavy. Even now, the grief, the regret, was almost impossible to bear.

Yet when a soft, cool hand curled itself around his, somehow the load on his shoulders lightened. The healing magic of a simple touch.

“I remember when they came to visit,” said Evaine. “King Cyrus had silver hair even then. But he was so kind and his eyes twinkled . He adored your mother, and whenever anyone asked a question, he’d always say ‘ Queen Sian knows best’ .”

A reluctant chuckle escaped his lips. “Do you know Father tried to deny himself and her, insisting they couldn’t possibly be a match because he was so much older? Fortunately, Mother knew who her mate was.”

“And pounced on him in a stable,” said Evaine. “She advised me not to follow her lead, as straw was a dreadful bother to remove from clothing and hair.”

Alaric almost choked. “Mother never confessed that particular detail! Everyone thinks she’s so lofty and regal…they’ve never seen her dance ’til dawn barefoot, or drag Father from a meeting for kisses. But his passing broke her and I didn’t know how to offer comfort. How do you comfort the loss of a fated mate? It is unendurable. She went into seclusion, I was trying to be king and establish a new order in the pack, quell challenges from a few cousins…then came the Gloucester banquet.”

“Evil,” Evaine hissed, flashing her fangs. “Now I understand why Queen Sian was so wary about my arrival. I suppose Theda was Lady Innocent? Pure and untouchable?”

He flushed. “I thought I knew how to dissemble, so politely, so smoothly, that no one could ever be offended. Also how to lie and flatter to best advantage, the true currency of a diplomat. But I was a babe in the woods compared to Theda and her soothsayer, Silas. They moved me about like a damned chess piece. I thought I would never trust again.”

“Did you ever share your suspicions?” Evaine asked.

Alaric shook his head. “I couldn’t. In truth I couldn’t even admit it to myself. But looking back, there were other clues. Theda had a pleasant-enough flowery scent, but it never inflamed me, never made me want to pounce . Wesley could smell her also. Theda hated my squire and was always cruel, forever banishing him from our presence. That was why. Goddess, even now I can remember the raised hackles between Blanche and Theda. And Mother and Theda. They saw under her mask…but after a public mating ceremony and crowning, it can only be undone by death. I still don’t know why Theda did it, other than wanting power at any cost.”

“Because, my king, in a poisoned soul, power is a thirst that can never be quenched. But if Theda hadn’t passed, I would scratch her eyes out. For her lies. For hurting you. For touching what is mine.”

Alaric blinked at the sheer fierceness of the words. His petite princess indeed looked ready to do murder, and a new but peaceful feeling of warmth flooded him. “Yours?”

Evaine straightened her shoulders, her perfect breasts jutting forward in a way that made his supposedly spent cock jerk to attention. Then she met his gaze, those glorious de Wynter green eyes glittering, and placed her hand in the middle of his chest. “ Mine .”

He sucked in a breath as an eye-watering pain slashed across his inner wrist, like he’d been seared with a hot poker. Shockingly, his etched mark disappeared, like mud wiped from glass. A moment later the symbols of a true royal mating mark rose on his skin, identical in every way to those on Evaine’s nape.

“Goddess,” Alaric whispered, abruptly torn between wrapping himself around his mate to imprint more of him on her…and waking every single wolf in the Western Lands to show them his mark.

This was real . Princess Evaine de Wynter was his fated mate, and future anointed Queen of the Western Lands. Perhaps, Leto willing, even the mother of his cubs. Indeed, a whole new horizon stretched out ahead of him. One with endless possibilities.

A low growl of complete satisfaction rumbled in his chest, and Evaine whimpered. “You are aware that sound makes me very, very wet?”

Inhaling deeply, Alaric smiled. “It seems so… my mate . But I shall have to examine the situation more closely, on my desk.”

She trembled, her nipples jewel-hard, then poked her tongue out. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

Lust surged through him as Evaine darted across the library to the shelves of books, before halting to wiggle her arse, looking over her shoulder and winking. This she-wolf was perfection.

Alaric permitted the pretense of a hunt for a short while, his low growls echoing in the room as she teased him, tweaking her own nipples, even caressing her bush. But soon the need to taste Evaine’s soaked cunt overruled all else. He trapped his mate against the desk, lifting her up onto the polished oak surface.

Gathering her hair in one fist, Alaric tugged until Evaine arched her back, offering him those sweet breasts. “Do you concede, Evie?” he rasped, lashing one tender peak with his tongue then blowing softly.

She gasped. “A royal she-wolf concede? Ha…ohhhh…”

Alaric laughed against her silken skin as he continued tormenting her nipples, circling with his tongue and lightly scoring with his teeth. “If you think this feels good, imagine my tongue inside you.”

“Then take me…my king.”

The words would forever inflame him. With a feral snarl, he gripped the back of Evaine’s neck and kissed her deeply, mastering her petal-soft lips before plunging his tongue into her mouth. But she was no passive receiver, winding her arms about his neck and tangling her tongue with his.

He groaned, only breaking the kiss when catching his breath seemed impossible. But the call of her drenched center was far too strong. “Spread your thighs, sweetheart. I’m going to kiss your cunt.”

If she could capture a moment in time it would be this one: Alaric gazing at her with such desire, such possessiveness…yet also something much deeper, like she was dawn after an endless night.

He was her fated mate; they had the marks to prove it. Now he would teach her so much more about pleasure.

Evaine leaned back on her hands, bringing her feet up to the edge of the desk for balance and offering him a long look at her drenched center. Then she teased him by immediately pressing her thighs back together. It made Alaric’s eyes flash, and his growl of warning made her wetter than ever. Indeed, she might be a strong and bold she-wolf, but there was something so exciting about provoking her alpha king until he dominated her thoroughly. “Perhaps I spoke too soon. Surely a reward is much sweeter when one battles for it…my king.”

Without warning she was flat on her back, the smooth, polished wood of the desk cool against her fevered skin. His muscled forearms curled around her spread thighs, anchoring her in place. “That saucy tongue, Evaine,” Alaric rumbled, as he leaned down to inhale deeply of her scent, before blowing gently on her bush, ruffling the crisp hair.

Before, he’d kissed her with unleashed passion. Now the cool, calm king had returned, the one who would torment her until she begged for release.

Evaine moaned, attempting to lift her hips so she might grind her throbbing, aching center against his chin, or even better, be closer for his tongue.

But her mate merely laughed. “Now, what were you saying about rewards being sweeter when one battles for it, Evie?”

“ Alaric .”

“I must confess,” he said conversationally, as though they were two humans discussing the weather, “if I knew no other scent than your wet cunt until the end of time, I would be quite content. It is like earth and air and water and fire and honey cakes combined. Sweet and musky.”

“Then taste me,” Evaine pleaded. “Take me. Give me what I need.”

Alaric pulled back slightly, his thick brows drawing together. “ Take you ? Not until we are publicly mated and you are crowned Queen of the Western Lands. Such ceremonies take many weeks to prepare, perhaps as long as a month…”

Her outrage almost unleashed like a storm…until she saw his faint lip twitch. He was teasing her once more.

Evaine nodded slowly, then languidly lifted a hand to cup her right breast, lifting and weighing it, stroking it, before lightly pinching her own nipple. “Mmmm…you are right of course. A month. Yes, so many things to prepare. Fine clothing and jewels, a full banquet and entertainment, invitations to dignitaries, offerings to Leto…”

Alaric’s searing gaze fixed on her hand’s movements. “Tomorrow.”

She giggled, pinching her nipple with more force. “Ooooh. Certainly not. The tapestry with both royal crests must be embroidered. We’ll need colored flags for the ramparts. And your soothsayer needs time to arrange the ceremony. Two weeks.”

“Three days,” he responded, tracing her inner thigh with the tip of his tongue.

Goddess. How is anyone supposed to think when their mate does that?

“One week,” Evaine managed breathlessly. “We must have a proper ceremony that welcomes the future and honors the past, Alaric.”

“One week,” he agreed, his eyes glinting, and a part of her just knew that had been his intention all along. Wicked wolf!

She batted her lashes at him. “Now, are you going to do what you promised, or must I find someone else…oh!”

Evaine bucked as Alaric nuzzled the crisp hair between her legs, parting it slightly and nudging the swollen bud nestled there. Then, balancing on his elbows, he used his thumbs to spread her glistening nether petals.

“Watch me,” he growled. “Watch me feast .”

At the first touch of his rough tongue on her pleasure bud, Evaine moaned at the jolt that lanced through her entire body. But as he laved and nipped, as he circled the nub then took it into his mouth and suckled, she could only thrash atop the desk as once more that wave of heady sensation built and built. Without warning it exploded, and she cried out his name as bliss crashed over her.

Yet he didn’t stop. Alaric merely moved down a little and began lapping up the honey trickling from her center. On a few occasions she’d heard human women whisper about the delights of a lover’s mouth, but surely nothing in the world could compare to Alaric’s tongue. The roughness. The dexterity. The hunger . Even better, the strength and force as he plunged it inside her channel, entering and withdrawing and rubbing and flicking…

Evaine’s fingers tangled in Alaric’s thick hair as she held him in place, never wanting this perfect pleasuring of her needy core to end. She might not be able to move her legs, but as he hurled her toward ecstasy a second time, her hips bounced on the desk, her toes gripped the edge, and she screamed as she found her peak once more.

Panting for air, her mind empty in a most peaceful way, Evaine sighed happily. “Is it Western Land lore that a mate must use his tongue at least every other day? If not, then you must rewrite it at once.”

Alaric chuckled, but there was a certain tension in the sound that made her lift her head. Oh. Her mate’s golden eyes glowed, his mouth and chin were slick with her honey…but there were lines of strain on his rugged face, and a brief glance downward explained why. Once again, his cock bobbed against his belly, huge and dark pink, the swollen head dripping with seed.

Evaine tilted her head as she studied the thick shaft, smiling to herself as it seemed to grow even larger. Watching him handle it as he thought of her, of feeling him spend on her lower back had been fascinating enough. But now her mouth watered to taste that seed. To know what his smooth, heavy length felt like in her hand. Between her lips. “You pleasured me. I think it is only fair that I do the same.”

An expression of pure yearning flashed across his face. “You don’t have to.”

A tart reply sprang to her lips, then Evaine hesitated. The imposter queen . If Theda had rejected or avoided Alaric’s touch…it was highly unlikely she’d ever sank to her knees in front of him and kissed his cock. Made him roar .

But Evaine de Wynter, his true fated mate, would pleasure him senseless.

Excitement sizzled through her. Sitting up, Evaine carefully slid off the desk. Her legs were a little unsteady, but she remained standing. “Lean against the desk please, Alaric. I’ll just fetch a cushion. Stone floors aren’t good for knees.”

Alaric inhaled unsteadily, and she could practically feel his hungry stare burning her back as she crossed the library to fetch a velvet cushion from the chaise by the window. Unable to stop herself, Evaine wiggled her arse again, somehow swallowing a giggle at his helpless growl. He might be a lofty king with the most magical tongue in Wolfdom, but she still held a great deal of power. After so many years of having none whatsoever, it felt wonderful .

With her hips swaying and breasts bobbing, Evaine returned to the desk, dropped the cushion onto the floor, then gracefully knelt upon it.

Alaric cleared his throat. “As I said…you don’t have to do this.”

Leaning forward, Evaine inhaled the delicious scent of him, all hot and raw and carnal. “Oh, but I want to kiss your cock, my king. Kiss and suck it until you spend in my mouth.”

He groaned, taking her hand and wrapping it around his engorged length, before placing both his palms on the edge of the desk. “Touch me, Evie. However you want.”

Well. Cocks were indeed fascinating .

Examining it closely, Evaine glided her palm along his length, marveling at the contrast of soft, smooth skin over stone- hard core. And his cock was hot. Scorching hot! Even more curious now, she tightened her grip.

Alaric cursed, his knuckles near-white, but his hands remained on the desk.

Mischievously, she met his gaze, then stuck out her tongue and licked the wet head. Hmmm. The pearly fluid tasted salty and a little earthy. Fascinating! “Like that?”

Her powerful alpha mate actually trembled. “Just like that.”

Heady excitement surged through Evaine, and she traced the delicate lines on his shaft with just the tip of her tongue until the sound of creaking wood startled her out of her cock-trance. Oh dear. If she kept teasing him, Alaric might actually crush his oak desk to powder.

Taking pity on her mate—and the desk—Evaine peered up at Alaric. “Guide my head.”

Then she closed her lips around his cock and drew upon it.

“Goddess, yes,” breathed Alaric as he cupped the back of her head, gently directing her. “Can you take me a little deeper? Ah, that’s it, my clever sweetheart. You feel so good. So. Damned. Good.”

Warmed by the praise, wanting to please her mate, Evaine dared to suck him further into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks to increase the suction, her tongue flicking against the underside. His hips jerked, his hand gripped her hair tightly, and a feral snarl tore from his throat. Her Alaric was unraveling.

Greedily, she sucked harder, then lifted her hand to caress his heavy balls. While she was nearly choking on the huge length, her eyes actually watering, it was so very intoxicating to hear his unabashed pleasure, to watch him surrender to her ministrations. Then his head fell back and his roar of release nearly lifted the castle roof as seed gushed into her mouth.

After swallowing it all, Evaine neatly licked him clean, then sat back on her heels. “My king.”

Alaric cupped her cheek, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “One week, not a heartbeat longer. Then everyone will know my queen. My mate. Forever.”