Lord of the Abyss

Chapter 22

Sinful, that question was too sinful to answer. But she did so, anyway, because she wouldn’t lie to Micah ever again. “Yes.”

“Good.” Sliding one hand under her even as he spoke, he cupped a taut, sensitive mound, capturing her nipple between thumb and forefinger. “I like your nipples as much as this.” A luxuriant caress over her exposed curves, his hand hot, his skin rough.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Bucking against him, she somehow managed to get herself onto her back, her hair sticking to perspiration-damp skin, her legs tangled up in her underwear. Micah tore them off, allowing her to spread her legs around his big body. She tugged at the thin black material that covered his chest. “Take this off.” She’d seen but not had the chance to caress him as she’d wanted in the great hall. “I want to kiss you there.”

He smiled.

And she realized she’d become as bad as him.

But there was something to be said for being upfront in her demands because he rose up onto his knees and tugged the fabric off over his head to throw it to the floor. Reaching up as he came back down over her, she splayed her hands over the heated silk of a chest that would have surely sent her to ruin if he hadn’t already taken care of that several times over. Lightly covered with curls of golden hair that arrowed down in a thin line to the waistband of his pants, it made her want to lick and bite and do things she’d never, ever considered doing to a man.

When she curved her hands over his sides, tugged him down, he lowered himself until she could reach him with her mouth. Oh, but he felt good against her lips, her tongue. The satin of his skin, the crisp roughness of his chest hair, the salt of his scent. She went to hook a leg over his waist, but he shifted, taking her with him so she ended up on top.

Too delighted at her new ability to explore him as she wished to worry about the wandering hands that stroked along her back to close over one of his favorite parts of her body, she kissed her way down to a flat male nipple. When she opened her mouth over it and sucked as he’d sucked hers, he fisted one hand in her hair. “Again, Lily.”

Melting at the growl she could feel beneath her palm, she obeyed. When she lifted her head, he said, “Why are you stopping?” The hand fisted in her hair nudged her back down.

She resisted. “The other side.”

He didn’t stop her as she tasted and explored him as she’d wanted to do for so long. Rubbing her cheek against his chest, she stroked her hand down his body, so hard and muscled and strong and beautiful—because he was Micah, who saw beauty in her, too, until she could almost see what he saw.

Pressing kisses down his chest, past the ridged muscle of his abdomen, she nuzzled at the line of hair that disappeared into the black of his pants. When she lifted her head to find him braced on his elbows, eyes of winter-green locked on her, she licked down the line. He made a rough, impatient noise deep in his chest. “I want your mouth on me.”

Oh, yes. Scrambling off the bottom of the bed, she undid the closures on his boots and pulled. It almost sent her tumbling to the floor but she got the left one off, then the right. But before she could crawl back up to undo his pants, he swung off the bed to take care of the task himself.

Four seconds later, he was all bare skin and muscle. Only her grip on the bedpost kept her upright. Especially when he reached down to fist the long, thick pulse of his erection. Not consciously thinking about her actions, she climbed back onto the bed and knelt on the edge, waiting. Micah’s fingers circled tight around the base of his cock as he walked to her.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked, resting her palms on the rock-hard strength of his thighs, the crisp hairs on him a delicious friction.

“A little.” His breathing was rough, his skin hot. “But if I don’t do this, I will spill in your mouth.”

She clenched her thighs to quench the ache between. “I won’t mind.” Because this was Micah, the man she loved, the man who made her want to try everything and anything to see how it would feel. “You’ve tasted me,” she whispered, her breath gusting over the engorged head of his cock. “It’s my turn.”

His groan was deep as she fit her hand below his and took him into her mouth. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but loving him this way was better than anything she could’ve imagined. Though he was hard as rock, rigid and demanding, the skin against her tongue was almost delicate, the taste of him a dark musk that made her his slave.

“That feels good.” The guttural statement was followed by the removal of his hand.

He began to move in shallow thrusts against her tongue an instant later. Moaning, she sucked harder, wanting to give him the same pleasure he’d given her. When his hand tangled in her hair, she expected a push, got it an instant later.

She just barely grazed him with her teeth.

He snarled. “Lily!”

Stroking her mouth off him in a slow, teasing motion, she looked up. “You were trying to take over.”

The Guardian of the Abyss stared down at her. “And you are trying to make me be not angry.”

She smiled, blew a breath over the hot length now gleaming wet from her mouth. “You’re not angry.”

Growling in pleasure, he pulled on her hair. “Suck me.”

So wet between her legs that she might’ve been embarrassed by it had she not been so aroused, she held still as he slid between her lips, both of them craving the sensation. Except Micah’s patience was on a short leash—he began to speed up his short, shallow thrusts. His hands moved to cup the sides of her face at the same time, his thighs going rigid beneath her palms. Taking him as deep as she could, she heard him groan. And then he was spilling into her mouth.

Micah lay sprawled on his back on the bed, his chest still heaving from the intensity of the pleasure that Liliana had wrung from him. When she came to cuddle up next to his body, he wrapped an arm around her and tucked her to his side where she should be. They lay like that for a long time—until his blood no longer pounded, and his body began to stir again.

Taking her hand, he slid it down to his cock. “Stroke me until I’m hard,” he murmured, showing her what he liked best with his hand on top of hers. “I want to push inside you.”

Her skin heated up against him, but she didn’t hesitate in her caresses. “Are you never shy?”

Removing his hand because hers, soft and small, felt so much better, he said, “No.” He didn’t see the point of it. But Liliana was sometimes shy; he allowed it because he could tell what she wanted by her little cries and the way she twisted, and how damp she got, the scent of her earthy and erotic.

Making a rumbling sound deep in his chest, he gripped the back of her neck as she worked him with her hand. “We’ll do this often when we’re married.”

She stopped her long, hard pulls of his cock. “You can’t marry me, Micah.”

Reaching down, he urged her to continue. It felt so good. “I’m the Lord of the Black Castle. I can do whatever I want.”

Liliana jerked up and onto her knees, his erection sliding through her hand to jut into the air. “You’re also a prince of Elden and my father is the Blood Sorcerer.”

“So?” He decided he liked her in that position, her legs tucked under her, her heels resting against her bottom. Maybe he’d push into her from behind. That way, he’d feel her lush bottom against him, be able to play with her breasts and the sensitive nub between her thighs at the same time. Cock jumping at the idea, he reached out to stroke the plump lips he could see though the dark curls at the apex of her thighs.

Jerking, she gripped his wrist. “The people,” she gasped out, “of Elden would hardly accept me.”

“I’m the youngest prince,” he pointed out, continuing to tease her with his finger. “I won’t sit on the throne—and even were I the eldest, I would still choose my own bride. Stop arguing.”

She made as if to pull away so she could do exactly that, but Micah didn’t want to speak anymore of something that wasn’t a problem even if she thought it was. Shifting, he pressed her onto her back and spread her thighs in a single motion. He covered her with his mouth a second later.

“Micah.”

He liked the way she said his name, all trembly and wanting. Finding the taut bundle of nerves that gave her much pleasure, he sucked on it. This time, her cry held an edge of desperation. Lifting his head, he saw that her eyes had gone dark as her pupils dilated, her chest rising and falling in a jagged rhythm.

He knew what she needed, what she wanted. Rising above her, he fit himself to the entrance of her body, driven not by experience, but by primal instinct. Then, dropping his mouth to her own, he began to push inside. A liquid-hot furnace gripped his cock. Groaning he broke the kiss to catch a breath—and found she’d wrapped her legs around him, was urging him to move faster with impatient rolling movements of her lower body.

“Lily.” Shuddering, he thrust deeper. Deeper still.

Until she cried out, her nails digging into his back. “It hurts.”

He froze, would’ve pulled out except that her legs remained locked around him. “Lily?”

“It’s because I haven’t done this before,” she gasped. “I just…need a minute.”

She felt so luscious that Micah wasn’t sure he had the willpower to give her that minute, but then he remembered her cry of pain and knew he did. He wouldn’t hurt Lily. Even when he was very angry with her, he wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe he’d growl at her a little, but she seemed not to mind that very much.

The thoughts were good ones, but they didn’t help in keeping his mind off the fact that he was half-buried inside her, his entire body poised on the brink of the most delicious sensations he’d ever felt.

Sweat broke out along his spine.

She spoke against his lips. “Now, Micah.”

Not asking her if she was sure, he pushed deeper. She made another sound, but this one didn’t have any hurt in it. Kissing her, stroking his hand down to grip her bottom, he sank in to the hilt. “Lily.” It was a groan.

Liliana’s response was softer but no less passionate, her thighs clenching around him. “Don’t stop.”

He moved out of her slow, pushed in as slow. It felt even better. So he did it again. Hot and tight and wet around him, her body soft where he gripped her, she was perfect. He found he was moving faster, thrusting into her in hard pulses, but she was with him, murmuring at him to hurry, kissing his jaw, his face, her nails digging into his sweat-slick shoulders. A last hard thrust and he spilled inside her with a low, deep sound of pleasure, able to feel her muscles spasming as she bucked, gasped and went liquid around him.

Later, after they’d both managed to find enough strength to bathe, she snuggled up next to him and called him “darling.” Micah decided he liked it. He’d allow her to call him darling, but only when they were alone. The Guardian of the Abyss couldn’t be called darling, after all.

It was his last thought before slumber crept over him in a stealthy wave.

They left the Black Castle at first light.

Liliana finished organizing the food and other supplies, while Micah armed himself with knives and a long, lethally sharp sword that he carried in a sheath down his back—because once they left this realm, he would no longer be able to call on the power of the Abyss. He and Liliana would have to rely on the magic that resided within their bodies until they reached Elden—but to use too much of it would leave them weak and vulnerable.

“You will watch over the castle,” he said to Bard. “The kitchari keep their eyes on the perimeter, and the anubi the skies. But the Arachdem shouldn’t return.” He’d sensed them leaving the realm when he woke with Liliana so warm and soft beside him.

Bard’s soulful eyes were dark. “Be safe.”

Nodding, Micah looked over at where Liliana—dressed in another one of those footmen’s uniforms Jissa kept digging up—was saying goodbye to the brownie who owned Bard’s heart. Jissa was distressed but not crying. The women hugged, tight and fierce, and then Liliana was by his side. “It’s time,” she said, glancing at the watch she carried for him on a chain around her neck, the one with a unicorn prince on its face.

The hands were almost to midnight.

Leaving without further goodbyes—though he did catch Liliana waving surreptitiously to a tiny twitching nose that appeared in the doorway—Micah walked them out to the stone garden and gathered her up in his arms.

As Micah rose into the air on wings of leathery brown, Liliana distracted herself by attempting to work out how they were going to get to the castle once they reached Elden. The lake was impassable—her father’s specially bred fish didn’t hunger only for flesh, they would also devour any boat or raft not enspelled with the Blood Sorcerer’s personal protections.

As for the walkway, the guards with the arms and tail of a giant scorpion and the teeth of a screaming banshee might once have been small, relatively harmless creatures, but no longer. Their lurching size meant she and Micah might possibly be able to move fast enough to avoid the whipping sting of their tails—but the risk would be a terrible one, not only because of the deadly nature of the creatures’ poison, but also because they would be out in the open on the causeway, easy prey for any guards on the castle battlements.

A scorching wave, on the fine border between bearable and painful.

Glancing down, she glimpsed bubbling lava pools belching heat. Dark red and angry, the pools were rumored to be so hot that should a man fall into one, he’d be so much liquid between one breath and the next. Something moved below the viscous surface of one and when it pulled itself to the ledge with four-clawed hands, she saw it was a giant salamander, its brimstone eyes watching their progress with a greed that said should they come too near, it would reach out with its fiery tongue and drag them down to its lair for a slow and torturous devouring.

Micah’s arms tightened. “Don’t be frightened, Lily. Nothing can touch us here.”

Not taking her eyes off the salamander, she said, “My father burned me with a salamander once. I’m so afraid of them.” She’d never before shared her fear with anyone, never before had anyone whom she’d trusted not to use that fear to torment her.

Micah’s wings made batlike flapping sounds as he flew faster over the lava pools. “I will kill your father, and then you won’t be afraid anymore.”

The order—and it was that—made her want to laugh, even as fear lingered in her veins. Then they were leaving the bubbling pools behind to traverse a barren stretch of desert, the sand appearing to glitter with shards of precious gems. “Micah,” she said some time later, frowning at what she saw, “your wings.”

“I know.” Descending on hot gusts of air, he landed on the brilliant desert sands flecked with red and blue and aquamarine.

She put down the small supply pack she’d been holding and asked him to spread his wings, checking the places where the leathery material had gone translucent. A fine webbing continued to hold muscle and tendon together, but it was fragile, easily damaged. “It must be because you’re carrying me,” she said, frowning. “The strain—”

“No.” Dropping his sword to the sands, he angled his head into the blistering desert winds. “There is a subtle poison in the air. It’s been weakened by entry to this realm and won’t harm our bodies, but my wings, it appears, are vulnerable.”

“Me,” she whispered, knowing the poison spell was anchored to her blood. “This poison attacks us because of me.”