𝙰 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜: 𝚂𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝙴𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔢𝔫(𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2)

     For a moment, I was nothing, no one. Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it always would be that way as he pulled out a few inches, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then slammed back into me. Again and again.

     I broke and broke against Tamlin as he moved, as he murmured my name and told me he loved me. And when that lightning once more filled my veins, my head, when I gasped out his name, his own release found him. I gripped him through each shuddering wave, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his skin, his strength.

      For a while, only the rasp of our breathing filled the room. I frowned as he withdrew at last—but he didnt go far. He stretched out on his side, head propped on a fist, and traced idle circles on my stomach, along my breasts.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he murmured.

"Its fine," I breathed. "I understand."

       Not a lie, but not quite true. His fingers grazed lower, circling my belly button.

"You are--you're everything to me," he said thickly. "I need  I need you to be all right. To know they cant get to you--can't hurt you anymore."

"I know." Those fingers drifted lower. I swallowed hard and said again, "I know." I brushed his hair back from his face. "But what about you? Who gets to keep you safe?"

       His mouth tightened. With his powers returned, he didnt need anyone to protect him, shield him. I could almost see invisible hackles raising--not at me, but at the thought of what he'd been mere months ago: prone to Amaros's whims, his power barely a trickle compared to the cascade now coursing through him.

      He took a steadying breath, and leaned to kiss my heart, right between my breasts. It was answer enough.

"Soon," he murmured, and those fingers traveled back to my waist. I almost groaned. "Soon you'll be my wife, and it'll be fine. We'll leave all this behind us."

      I arched my back, urging his hand lower, and he chuckled roughly. I didnt quite hear myself speak as I focused on the fingers that obeyed my silent command.

"What will everyone call me, then?"

      He grazed my belly button as he leaned down, sucking the tip of my breast into his mouth.

"Hmm?" he said, and the rumble against my nipple made me writhe.

"Is everyone just going to call me 'Tamlin's wife'? Do I get a title?"

       He lifted his head long enough to look at me. "Do you want a title?"

       Before I could answer, he nipped at my breast, then licked over the small hurt--licked as his fingers at last dipped between my legs. He stroked lazy, taunting circles.

"No," I gasped out. "But I dont want people--I dont know if I can handle them calling me High Lady."

      His fingers slid into me again, and he growled in approval at the wetness between my thighs, both from me and him.

"They won't," he said against my skin, positioning himself over me again and sliding down my body, trailing kisses as he went. "There is no such thing as a High Lady."

      He gripped my thighs to spread my legs wide, lowering his mouth, and--

"What do you mean, theres no such thing as a High Lady?"

     The heat, his touch—all of it stopped. He looked up from between my legs, and I almost climaxed at the sight of it. But what he said, what he'd implied  He kissed the inside of my thigh.

"High Lords only take wives. Consorts. There has never been a High Lady."

"But Rhysand is a High Lady," I recalled.

"No, Rhysand calls herself a High Lady," he corrected. "That doesn't truly make her one. She likes to feed into the delusion that she's more important than she actually is."

"She rules over a Court just like the rest of you. But because she's a female, she doesn't she deserve the same title?"

"Do you think she deserves anything?" he challenged. "She was the whore of one of the cruelest kings to ever rule."

      While part of me didn't think she deserved the same respect as my High Lord, I couldn't shake the memory of that night before the Third Task. It didn't seem like she'd had much of a choice in being his whore.

"She told me she's more powerful than all of the High Lord's combined," I remembered. "She thinks that alone earns her the title."

"Rhysand tends to think very highly of herself," he scoffed. "But not many others think she deserves any title at all." 

"But Rhys--"

"I don't want to hear anyone else's name on your lips right now," he growled, and lowered his mouth to me.

        At the first stroke of his tongue, I stopped arguing.