Anya Bast - Witch Blood

Isabelle moved across the tub and fitted herself against him. Slick wet skin slipped across his, tightening his every muscle. She started with his hair, dripping shampoo into her palm and massaging it through the uneven length. “Bastards tried to strip your power.”

His hand covered her wrist. “They didn’t succeed because they didn’t take you.”

Warm smile playing on her lips, she lathered her hands with soap and then eased them down his arms, over his shoulders and back. Thomas let out a low groan of satisfaction as she washed him from head to toe, her lips trailing on his now-clean flesh as she went. Every bruise and cut seemed to heal a little just from her touch.

Even better was her mouth when it found his.

Her lips fluttered against his tentatively at first. He nipped her lower lip and dragged it through his teeth while he slipped one hand down her waist and over her thigh to just under the sweet back of her knee. He pulled her leg up over his hip, enjoying the feel of her wet skin against his.

She parted her lips and allowed his tongue to slip within her mouth and ground her sex against his aching cock. Wiggling her hips, she sought his crown and slid down over the top of it.

All his nerve endings shot to brilliant life. He tipped his head back and groaned at the way the warm, silken muscles of her sex rippled and pulsed along his length as she impaled herself.

One with Isabelle, now he was truly home.

He pressed her down onto the top ledge of the tub that rose an inch above the water’s surface and sank as deeply within her as he could. She wound her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, burying her nose in the curve where his shoulder met throat. There she laid a series of kisses and gentle nips of her teeth.

Thrusting in and out of her soft, tight heat, he slaked the weeks-long need he’d had of her. Inserting his hand between their bodies, he used his wet fingers to rub her clit until she shuddered and came beneath him, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

This was hard and fast lovemaking, urgent. Once he’d sated himself, he’d put her in his bed and do it again, slower, sweeter. Lather, rinse, and repeat…for as long as she’d have him.

He sealed his mouth to hers as his climax overtook his body, thrusting deep within her as he came.

Once it was over, they slipped into the water, tangled up in each other. For a long time, they did nothing but touch one another, kissing along smooth, wet skin.

She bit her lower lip and traced a bruise on his shoulder. “How bad was it?”

His arms tightened around her. He didn’t want to tell her about the beatings he’d received every day. If it hadn’t been for Claire patching him up and giving him glamours, he probably would’ve died there. “Bad. It could have been worse, though.”

She rubbed her lips against his shoulder. “Stefan is alive.”

He gritted his teeth, but didn’t reply. Score number two for the Duskoff. That was the second time he’d escaped them.

“He told me he struck some kind of deal with Boyle,” she continued.

Thomas rubbed his palm up and down her arm and murmured, “Considering we witnessed Boyle’s beheading, I’d say all negotiations he made are probably void.”

She snuggled against him, her body soft and warm against his, but her voice was hard. “Let’s hope we never get an Atrika on this side of the doorway again.”

But they would. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but one day the Duskoff would pull another through.

“Let’s forget about all that for now. The future will take care of itself. Let’s live in the present. Or, better yet, let’s talk about our personal future…together.”

She frowned up into his face. “You’re not going to do something dumb and ask me to marry you, are you?”

“I want you to stay, Isabelle. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Thomas, and the only place I want to be in this world is with you. I would’ve said yes, you know.”

Pleasure warmed him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. “In that case, will you—”

“Yes.” She kissed him. “Yes, I will. Thank the Lady you finally got around to asking. I’ve always wanted to be a queen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for all intents and purposes, you’re the king of witchdom.”

He smiled. “And you’re definitely my queen.”