Breath of Winter, A (29 page)

“I don’t know how you keep it all straight. This place is a maze within a maze. My head spins to think about where all these tunnels go and who has access to what. It’s too much for me.”

His steps never faltered. “You get used to it.” Reaching the end of the tunnel, he stopped before a set of gilded doors and glanced back at me. “This was a gift to my parents. I repurposed an unused room of theirs as a gift for their last anniversary. It belongs to Lourdes now, but I borrowed it for us.”

“Borrowing your sister’s things,” I teased. “Now I must see it.”

“Go ahead.” He stepped aside. “Open it.”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. I twisted the knob, pushed the door open and gasped.

Stepping inside fooled me into believing I had stepped into a sunlit meadow. Soft lights glowing overhead faded into the treetops gracefully arching across the ceiling. Elegant tree trunks surrounded us. Through them, I spied a meadow on one wall and grazing pecora in sight of a canis on another. Mist and ether drifted through the forest floor of the third wall. The fourth wall—I turned a careful circle and my hand went to my throat. “You did this?”

“I arranged for it.” Henri walked to the center of the room. “This place exists, in Siciia. This meadow was Father’s favorite hunting ground when he was a boy. He loved Erania, but he spoke of Trajer’s Meadow often and fondly. I sent our clan’s most gifted artist there to survey the area personally. This is the vision he brought back with him, and it became Father’s favorite room in the nest.”

“I can see why.” The sun and trees ignited a sweet ache in my chest. “As someone well acquainted with homesickness, I can tell you any remembrance of home is a welcome salve when it’s so far away. You gave him a treasure.”

He grinned. “It was worth the effort to steal Father’s attention from Lourdes for a few days.”

“Sweet rivalry,” I said. “I appreciate the sentiment well.”

Noticing my fascination with the fourth wall, Henri reached up and traced the gentle curve of a delicate waterfall as it trickled into its basin, then curved sinuously in its creek bed over the forest floor and out of sight.

“Don’t touch it,” I scolded him. “The oils in your hand will corrode the surface.”

He arched an eyebrow, but I took it as a compliment.

“There are several artists among my people. I had my hand slapped for touching for years.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I will do my best to keep my hands to myself.”

Walking slowly to him, I let my crutches hit the floor. “I didn’t say you had to go that far. There are other things in this room that might benefit from you putting your hands on them.” My approach was less graceful than I might have wished. Niggling doubts murmured in my ears that I was the one propelling us toward this moment. Then I decided my brothers had been right for once. I enjoyed the pursuit. I enjoyed taking what I wanted, and I wanted Henri.

He must have noticed my hesitation, torn between the desire to chase or be pursued.

He saved me the trouble of going to him. He came to me, wrapping his arms around me.

I reveled in his warm embrace, in the need making his breath ragged at my ear.

“I am grateful to Lailah for one thing,” he said against my neck. “She brought you to me.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I nuzzled him. “I might have made my way up here eventually.”

His arms tightened around me. “What would I have done without you?”

“Gone on to live a productive life free from chaos?”

His fangs slid down my throat. “I’m finding I have a taste for chaos.”

Chills dotted my neck.

“Oh?” I let him cup my jaw and turn my head aside.

His fangs pierced me. Heat spread from those two punctures through my limbs. I clutched his shirt to get more, get closer. He obliged, biting deeper, drawing me nearer. He fit our bodies together, and the hard proof of his arousal pressed against my thigh. I eased a hand between us, stroking him until his groan turned to gentle kisses over his bite marks. His lips moved lower, almost brushing my shoulder, and he struck a second time. Venom singed my veins, setting my flesh on fire.

“You’re venomous?” I gaped at him. “But you’re Araneidae.”

His grin was sly. “Only on my mother’s side.”

I writhed against him, seeking relief, unable to do more than cling to him and moan for release.

“Let me help,” he murmured.

“Yes.” My nails bit into his shoulder.

Henri scooped me into his arms and carried me across the room.

I squirmed in his hold. “How is this helping?”

“You’ll see.”

He strode toward the section of mural where mist swirled onto the floor. He knelt there, seating me on the plush ledge of a low bench I hadn’t noticed. Its pale fabric mirrored the wispy grays in the wall behind it. Once seated, I realized the bench hugged the walls of the entire room, complementing the section of mural above it while blending the seating seamlessly into the painting from a distance.

“Better?” he asked.

I fisted his collar and pulled him closer. “Not yet, but it has potential.”

I melded our lips together, tasting Henri and craving more. While my hands unfastened his shirt buttons, my mouth paid tribute to his. I shoved his shirt past his shoulders and linked my arm behind his head. He laughed while I bent him to me, one hand caressing his nape while the other eased down his chest, over his stomach, to tangle with the buttons holding his pants on hips I wanted to savor.

Cool air whispered over my skin. Henri had unbuttoned my shirt. My jacket was…I’m not really sure where my jacket went. He parted the fabric and guided it down my arms. The chill of the room made my nipples pebble when he touched my breasts. Warmth from his mouth as he tasted each taut peak arched me against him, desperate for more of his decadent heat.

His hands traveled down my stomach, past my navel, to the waist of my pants. “Can you stand?”

I nodded and used his shoulders to brace as I went to my feet.

Henri flicked the buttons open, slid the pants past my hips and drew in a sharp breath when he noticed my lack of undergarments. I should have teased him, taunted that if he had selected those intimate items I would have worn them—for him.

But his lips pressed to the skin beneath my navel, and my stomach trembled in response.

“You are perfect,” he said between kisses.

“Are you sure?” I panted. “Not too tall for you?”

His response was to rid me of my pants, leaving me to tower over him nude. The sight of Henri with his pants half off and his shirt half on shot tremors racing up my thighs. I tightened my grip on his shoulders.

“If I kiss every inch of your legs in apology,” he asked, “will you forgive me that comment?”

“Hmm.” I stroked his cheek. “Why don’t you try to convince me of your sincerity?”

Starting at my knee, he kissed his way upward. He parted my thighs while his lips strayed to the inside of my leg where his fangs rasped over supple flesh. Cold sweat blossomed over my skin as he tormented me. My eyes shut as I tried blocking out my anticipation, but sweetened the sting instead.

He struck, sheathing his teeth and flooding me with more venom, until I was drunk on him.

My knees buckled, and I slumped down his back. He cupped my bottom, setting me on the edge of the bench and pinning my shoulder against the wall with his right palm as his left hand smoothed the spot throbbing from his bite. As his hand drifted higher, I scooted farther off the bench, meeting his seeking fingers with my eager sex. The first touch made me whimper. The second made me come undone. His venom circulated through me, awakening each nerve ending until I ached.

Burying his face at my neck, Henri pressed tender kisses there.

“No.” I shook my head. “Keep your fangs to yourself.” Pleasure was a nip away, and it was all I could do not to arch my throat and beg for more. “If you bite me again, I’ll have to tie your fangs in a knot. I can barely feel my toes.”

His response was a red-faced grin.

“Now this…” I shoved his pants down below his knees, “…this I want to feel.”

When my hand closed around his erection, Henri jolted. Each stroke after that glazed his eyes. It was addictive to bring him pleasure, to watch while desire darkened his gaze and strangled his voice.

“Come here.” I patted the spot beside me, grinning at his dazed expression.

Once he sat next to me, I planted my palm in the center of his chest and urged him on his back, climbing up his body as he reclined on the bench. His head hit the cushion, and I braced my knees to either side of his hips. He gripped my thighs, fingers digging into my skin. Holding my gaze, he eased one hand between us, brushing his fingertips across my sex before fisting his erection and sheathing it in me. I braced on Henri’s shoulders, unable to look away from him. He guided my hips in a rhythm he met with hard thrusts designed to wring harsh moans from me. With his venom pumping in my veins and his body beneath mine, I was lost. I clung by a thread until his grip tightened and he pulled me flush against him. He groaned my name when he came, and his pleasure tipped me back into orgasm.

I slumped over him, resting my chin on his shoulder, feeling his heart thump beneath my hand. “We should have brought my chair.” I pressed slow kisses to his salty skin. “I can’t walk after that.”

He turned his head and brushed his lips over mine. “I’m not sure if I can either.”

“Let’s just lie here then,” I suggested. “Someone will notice we’re missing and come looking.”

We shared a look. “Ghedi,” we said in unison.

Henri grasped my hips before I rolled off him. “Let’s stay a moment longer.”

Easily persuaded, I stretched languorously over the top of him. “If you insist.”

He cupped my arse and squeezed. “I like this agreeable side of yours.”

I snorted. “I don’t think that counts as a side. It’s more of a bottom.”

“So it is.” He stroked his fingers up my spine. His teeth scraped the column of my throat.

I gasped, forcing my mind back on task. “No. Absolutely not. Not again.”

He did it again.

Fangs slid into my skin. Venom tingled through me, reawakening my desire for him.

“All right,” I said, sinking my hands into his hair. “Maybe just once more.”

About the Author

Hailey is a wife turned mother turned writer, who loves her husband, her daughter and alone time with her computer. Whenever southern living strikes her as too ordinary, she can be found squinting at her monitor as she writes her next happily-ever-after or with her nose glued to her Kindle’s screen. Wings and/or cupcakes are usually involved.

She loves to hear from readers at
[email protected]
.

You can also swing by
www.haileyedwards.net
for all her latest news.

Look for these titles by Hailey Edwards

Now Available:

Daughters of Askara

Everlong

Evermine

Eversworn

Araneae Nation

A Hint of Frost

A Feast of Souls

A Cast of Shadows

A Time of Dying

Steal the salt. Bind the grimoire. Escape the male.

Eversworn

© 2012 Hailey Edwards

Daughters of Askara, Book 3

When an exchange of stolen goods in the Feriana marketplace turns sour, Isabeau stumbles from the encounter bruised and laden with new orders to complete an even larger heist. With her child’s life at stake, there’s no room for error—or allies.

Armed with a lethal book of spells, she strikes a dangerous bargain with Roland Bernhard. Steal a shipment of salt from the Feriana colony, and she’ll have her freedom—and her daughter. It’s all she’s ever wanted. At least it was…until she runs into Dillon Preston.

Dillon is out of commission after a mine explosion, and itching for a distraction. He gets it when the female who saved his leg arrives at the colony with nothing but flimsy excuses and even flimsier attire. She’s after something, but is it him—or the salt?

Trapped in a desperate bid to gain true freedom, Isabeau is willing to sacrifice her life for her daughter’s, but Dillon has other plans. He wants a package deal, and he’s not willing to lose either female, even if it means the future king of Sere’s head will roll.

Warning: This title contains a heroine desperate to save her daughter and a hero determined to make them a family. It also includes wings, horns and other assorted appendages.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Eversworn:

“Don’t play with me. I promise you won’t like the outcome.” Fisting the front of my shirt, he dragged me precious inches nearer. “Answer me.” His voice lowered. “What kind of male lets his female take all the risks and then leaves her alone in the desert?” He was careful of me. Not gentle, not rough, either. He took pains not to hurt me. Yet. He snarled, “
Where is your mate
?”