Zaria
Nyx thrashes, shouting. We huddled close together last night, falling asleep, hidden behind the curtains in the sitting room.
I place my hands around his face, the skin damp. "Nyx, you're dreaming."
His eyes snap open, registering mine, recognition softening his features. He exhales, sitting up and pulling me against his chest, his fingers running lazily through my hair. "It wasn't real," he says with unbridled relief. He blows out another breath.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask softly, pushing hair away from his face.
His eyes travel to a distant place as he speaks. "It was...my father. He was..." he swallows, his expression troubled. "He was dead."
My heart sinks and I shake my head, repeating his earlier words. "It wasn't real."
"No, it wasn't." He smiles at me slightly. "Go back to sleep, I'm sorry I woke you."
I nestle beneath his shoulder and chest, and as I watch his face, I know he won't be getting much more sleep tonight.
"Let me make you feel better," I whisper.
He peers down at me, considering, but I can feel his body buzzing with desire. I run my hand down his bare chest, my trembling fingers reaching the hair at his naval. His breath hitches when my hand lowers, closing around his length, squeezing hard.
He shudders. "Z."
"Shhh." I bite my lip, squeezing harder. I move over his body, tugging on his trousers, desperate to release the bulge pressing through. The proof of his arousal stares me in the face. I take him in my mouth, my tongue grazing his tip, the moisture there.
His hand grasps the back of my head, his fingers curling through my hair, holding himself back. I push him deeper into my throat, pinning him to the ground with my other hand, satisfied by the sound it pulls out of him. I feel the wetness growing between my thighs.
I'm rewarded with a deeper groan when my teeth scrape against skin, his hips bucking against my mouth. We work together, our pace increasing, until he's sated, arching against me, and spilling himself down my throat.
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The next morning, we set to work, erasing any evidence of our night spent in the sitting room. Putting the blankets back where we found them Nyx says, "We're going to need nicer clothes if we want entry into that ball." There is darkness beneath his eyes, despite our sated sleep.
I hold my arms out, looking down at myself. "Are you saying I look bad?"
He leans forward, crinkling his nose. "Well, you do smell a bit."
I feign hurt, gasping and holding my hand to my chest.
The doorknob rattles and we whip our heads simultaneously.
"Go, go, go." Nyx leads me to the other door, a hand at my back.
"I left the blanket!" I say, stumbling on the rug.
"It's fine, just go."
We rush out into the hallway, glancing behind us. "All clear." Leaning into Nyx I say, "I might know where to get dress clothes. I saw a woman dragging out a chest of fabric yesterday when we were trailing Viviane."
He holds out his arm, bowing. "Lead the way."
I sneak us down the halls, past workers and guests of the castle. We try to cover our faces and blend into the crowds by picking up boxes and depositing them in different rooms. "This way." We amble down set of stairs, avoiding eye contact. I point to the end of the corridor to where a woman is rolling a rack of dresses. "There."
YOU ARE READING
Seven Courts of Love and Magic
RomanceThe magic of Prythian is fading, and with it everything that Zaria loves. As daughter of Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, her father's reputation precedes her, but she is determined to save the only home she's ever known. Across the realm, Nyx...