πͺπ πππ πππππβπ πππππ βοΈ
{His Hated Archenemy }ποΈ
A Dark Romance Fantasy,
Written by PΕΓ©ΕΔ§ ΓΕΓΓ§ΓΓ’ ΓΔ Δ―ΘΓΏ (KL)βοΈ
Rated 18+ π
πππππππ ππ. ππ πππππππ. ππ πππππππππππ
************************************
Warning β οΈ: This book is already contracted and signed. Itβs also registered and copyrighted Β©οΈ under the United States law and Nigerian Copyright Law (NCC). Do NOT copy or repost any part of this manuscript. βοΈ
*************************************
LORD REVANDREL
First, I returned to my bedchamber and took another long bath.
This time, not to wash away the fatigue of the journey, but to give myself yet another chance to think beyond the madness, beyond my bodyβs desires, which had somehow become my decision-maker.
And no, the bath helped none. If anything, it only fueled me.
So after freshening up, I left my chamber.
I knew a walk of shame when I saw one, and tonight I was making itβthat much I could admit to myself as I dragged my steps along the long route from my private quarters to the Courtesan Quarters and Lodgings.
I entered their empty, quiet hallway, the walls carrying the sound of my footfalls back to me, each echo reminding me of just how ridiculous I must look.
You would think that would stop me. That it would make me turn around and put an end to this temporary foolishness.
But no.
Standing before her door, I paused and stared at the keys I took from a very confused, very reluctant Sesora.
It is not too late to call off this insanity, Revandrel. Remember who she is. Remember what she did. Remember the plans we have for her.
But hunger is a dangerous itch that needs to be scratched and nipped in the mud. I need to get this, to get her out of my system, once and for all.
Itβs just sex, not some ritual to erase who she is and her crimes against me.
This night, whatever it becomes, will be a night that never existed by morning. It will fade like a fevered dream, leaving nothing behind.
I slid the key into the lock and turned it. The handle twisted. The door opened.
I stepped inside.
Baevera lay in the center of the wide bed, deep in sleep, moonlight tracing silver paths along her bare arms. Her hair spilled across the pillow in a soft, untamed halo, and she had turned slightly toward my side of the bedβone hand resting near her temple, the other loose at the far edge of her head.
She looked like an angel this way. A pure, innocent angel who could do no wrong.
Such a beautifully deceptive appearance for the mother of all evil.
I leaned back against the door and simply watched her. Dangerous as it was, I let the sight of her to settle inside me.
***
LADY BAEVERA
The sound of my lock turning tangled itself with the chaos of my sleep, slipping into my restless dream as nothing more than another stray noise. I did not take it seriouslyβ¦until a scent reached me.
A scent that should not have been here at all cut through everything and dragged me from the haze of sleep to the edge of waking.
Revandrel?
My eyes opened slowly, heavy with exhaustion, and fixed on a silhouette leaning against my door. Was he truly here? In my chambers?
I blinked lazily to force the fog away. Opened my eyes again, and stared harder.
The silhouette remained. Is this real?
I slowly pushed myself up, planting my hands on either side of the bed to lift my upper body. He still had not moved, nor had he spoken.
But it was him. Revandrel stood there, watching me.
Warmth began in the pit of my belly and spread throughout my entire body.
I lowered myself back onto the mattress. Turning to my side, I folded my arms under my cheek and returned his gaze just as steadily.
We stared at each other. Yet it did not feel like a contest of wills.
For once, there was none of the usual aggression between us. No tension, no venom. The air was eased, softened, almost gentle.
I hesitated to speak, knowing the weight the first words would carry. They would set the tone for everything that followed.
If I greeted him with mockeryβsomething like βLook what the cat dragged inββhe would snap, we would fight, and he would leave.
That would be for the best though. If we crossed this line, he would blame me for it. He would hate me more for it.
I should stop this. I should.
But when I opened my mouth, no words came.
It has been three months since the exhibition. Three months since I got behind that curtain with him. Yet, I remember everything.
Every new emotion he unearthed from places inside me I thought were dead, I remember. And tonight, in the dead of night, I want to feel them again.
Ironic, is it not? That I should desire a male who hated me so fiercely.
A male whose hatred for me is so raw it borders on sacred. So pure, it feels alive.
Now, I want that hatred to cross the room, climb into my bed, and touch my skin.
The first time in long centuries I wanted a maleβs touch, and of course, it had to be him.
Of all people, it had to be Evan.
βI want us to fuck.β Revandrel growled at last. βWhat do you have to say about that?β
My stomach flipped violently. βI do not think I have ever heard it said quite like that before.β
He shrugged, unapologetic. βI am not one to lie or cajole, nor do I beat about the bush. I did not rehearse this in the mirror.β
My fingers curled tightly into the mattress beneath me, but my eyes never left him. This absurdly compelling male who always found a way to say all the wrong things and still stir all the wrong feelings.
Who would have thought that the boy I once wanted dead for the crime of existing would one day make me feel so alive merely by standing there?
His demeanor, his fury, his sharp tongue, his mere presence, all of it rouses something in me that nothing else ever does.
When we fight and argue, it stokes emotions I usually never feel in this lifeless existence of mine. And when he touches meβ¦
That warmth in my belly thickened with a vengeance, spreading until my body ached with it. I grew wet between my thighs.
He inhaled sharply, and a low growl slipped from his chest.
Musk. Oh gods. He could smell me.
Mortification seized me even as more fluid seeped out, warm and humiliating, dampening my inner thighs.
I squirmed, squeezing them together, helpless to stop it.
He did not even pretend to hide his reaction. He inhaled again, unashamed, drawing my lust into his lungs.
Oh gods. Must he do that so brazenly? Without a shred of shame?
βI take it we are really doing this then,β he groaned in a low voice filled with want.
My eyes dropped to his robe where the fabric had poked forward, the unmistakable straining of his arousal bold and clear.
My mouth dried up. He was hard for me. So visibly, shamelessly hard.
I want this.
βBaevera?β
I nodded before I could stop myself, before my mind could catch up with the rest of me. I just wanted to feel his touch again. To feel those stirrings inside again. I already felt it once, what was one more foolish decision?
βSorry, but I would need you to put that into words.β
βYes,β I breathed. βLet us fucβget intimate.β
He nodded once, but still did not move.
Those deep, penetrating that saw too much, still remained locked on me. That stare felt as physical as touch.
Was it really this warm in here, or was I going into heat?
Panic tried to scratch its way up my spine, but I dismissed it instantly.
No. This was not a heat-kind of warmth. It was not feral, violent, and demanding, just a steady simmer that made the cool air feel heavier.
Unable to stay still any longer, I uncurled myself and rose from the bed.
Standing at the foot, I met Revandrelβs gaze and, without breaking it, slipped one strap of my nightgown from my shoulder. Then the other.
The fabric whispered down my body, pooling at my feet, taking my undergarments with it.
I stood before him, naked.
It was not the first time he had seen me this way, but suddenly, I felt exposed. I feltβ¦shy. Vulnerable in a way I had not felt in centuries.
I pressed my thighs together, resisting the urge to do something so utterly ridiculous as covering my breasts with my hands.
Nothing to be embarrassed about, Baevera. You look goodβand he is looking.
I tried to reassure myself, but what truly steadied me was the simple fact that Revandrel was really looking.
His eyes roamed my body, slow, thorough, and unashamed.
His stare stripped me further, in a way that made me feel even more naked than my physical nudity already allowed.
If I were not so affected, I might have struck a pose or teased him. But all I could do was stand there fighting the insane urge to dart behind the nearest curtain and hide.
At last, he straightened. Pushed off the door. And strode toward me with measured steps.
I kept my feet planted. I kept my eyes locked on his.
βThis night never happened,β he said at last.
βNo, it did not,β I whispered. That way, I will not think about tomorrow.
βGood.β Then, his hand wrapped around my throat, and he shoved me.
I gasped as I fell backward. But before my body could hit the wall, his hand was there like a shield, bracing between my back and the stone wall. The impact never came.
And before I could make sense of it all, that hand withdrew and returned to my throat.
His fingers were firm, claiming, and his eyes burned down into mine with an intensity that sent a tremor straight through me.
Here we go.
I expected panic at the manhandling, but none came. I felt no fear. My lips parted to speakβ
And his mouth crashed into mine.
What? Uhmm, no way.
βI do not engage in kissing,β I tried to say, but the words were muffled by his demanding lips.
I tried to pull back so I could actually say it, but his hand on my throat held me still, tilting my face exactly where he wanted it.
His lips devoured mine before I could form another protest.
Placing my palms against his arms, I intended to push him away, but somewhere between thought and action, the command becameβ¦lost.
Oh godsβ¦
Revandrel's kiss was overwhelming.
As savage as the male himself. Intense as his gaze. Untamed as his tongue in curse-mode.
Most males I knew cared little for kissing, more obsessed with the act that followed instead. Even the rare few who pretended interest only received my disapproval.
Only a handful have ever truly kissed me, and my betrothed was one of them. But even Philip has never kissed me like this.
Instinctively, my head tilted back, and my lips parted to invite him in.
Revandrelβs tongue swept into my mouth. Bold and serpentine, curling around mine and dominating the kiss.
I kissed him back, but my own tongue was tentative, hesitant, and unsure, nothing like his.
His was a conqueror laying claim. Owning my mouth in a way it has never been owned before.
Finally, he drew back just slightly, his face a breath from mine.
βYour kiss screams of inexperience, which is absurd,β he said lazily. βSo I will simply assume you are bad at it.β
βI donβt do kisses,β I panted, trying to catch my breath. βThe thought of exchanging saliva with them disgusts me.β
He made a sound that was half amused, half mocking. βYou dislike their saliva but can take their bodily fluids inside you?β
That familiar gleam in his eyes and that faint smirk around the corner of his mouth definitely reminded me who I was kissing. Who I was pressed up against the wall, naked for. Not that I ever forgot.
βWhat can I say?β I rasped, still breathless. βA lady is allowed her preferences.β
βMore of a whore than a lady, my lady,β he murmured, voice like rough velvet. His eyes dropped to my lips. βNow let me teach you how it is done.β
Then he slammed his mouth onto mine again.
Another round of it. It was raw, intense, and unapologetic.
I lost all sense of time and place as his tongue plundered mine into oblivion.
My body flushed hot with desire, and a moan rose in my throat.
I forced it back down out of sheer reflex. That was so weird. I have never involuntarily moaned before.
Revandrel devoured me, mouth, lips, and tongue. With no finesse, restraint, or semblance of gentility, as though this kiss was a battle and he was determined to win.
He sucked, he bit lightly, he plundered, alternating between assault and consumption. And all the while, his hand kept its hold on my throat, holding my face up, presenting my lips to him as an offering.
My sexual radar has always been spot on. I should be losing feelings by now, but I felt his kisses down to my toes.
And the more I waited for the numbness to come, the more I felt even more of it.
The warmth flowing through me has grown into a burning pulse, and my body⦠gods, my body feels really, really weird.
Odd in a way I could not describe, only feel.
Is this what desire feels like?
I could not be certain. It has been so long.
But Revandrel kissed me as no one else ever has. And I feel it in places I have never felt before.
And so I surrendered to the kiss, to the male, and let the tide carry me away.
***
LORD REVANDREL
If anyone ever told me a night would come when I would drink from Baeveraβs lips and become drunk on the taste of her, the softness and texture of her lips, and her surrender, I would have fed them to my lions.
But such a night actually existed, and it was happening now.
Her lips were everything I hated to admit I wanted. So soft, so full, so addictive. It does not taste venomous or poisonous.
No, not at all.
It tastedβ¦heavenly. Like nirvana. Like the tasty fruits of the gods.
And her muskβ¦
All musk shared familiar notes, distinguished mostly by gender: males carried heavier musk, richer and thicker, while females were lighter, touched with a faint floral undertone. But Baeveraβs musk held something else.
Something I could not name or identify, but was so sharper and sweeter, and frankly, her musk was driving me insane.
Then she let out a moan.
A small, throaty sound, the first sound of the night, and it shot straight to my cock.
I have never heard her moan before. Gods, it sounded good.
Her body slumped, as if all strength had drained from her in a single breath, and she melted in my hold.
My arm circled her waist, holding her up, keeping her exactly where I wanted her as I ate up her mouth.
Her entire weight pressed against me, soft, warm, trembling, as I devoured and conquered.
Gods.
Gods.
Her lips. This kiss. The meeting of tongues should never be addictive. But somehow hers crossed that line. I have been at it for several minutes now.
And for someone who rarely indulged in kisses that did not involve another part of my anatomy inside the female, I found myself enjoying every moment of it. I could do this all night.
Baevera shivered again, and another moan slipped out.
Her breathing was ragged, her body pressed helplessly against mine. I forced myself to pull back again, needing to look at her.
Her eyes opened slowly, hazy and unfocused, and met mine.
She looked lost.
Hungry.
Dazed.
Bewildered.
Like she could not understand what she was feeling, or what to do with it. Like it scared her.
I realized then, that she had not been lying. She meant it when she said males did not kiss her.
But why?
Why in all the realms would no male try to taste this sweetness, and most importantly, why was she letting me?
My gaze dropped to her lips. They were swollen, red, and bruised by my mouth. Utterly beautiful.
βThis never happened,β I repeated. She needed to understand. By morning, this would be a night scorched from our memories like it had never existed.
βNever happened,β she breathed, her voice light, almost dazed.
βThis does not change anything.β
βNo,β she swallowed hard, and I felt the motion through my hand, still curled around her slender, elegant throat. βIt does not,β she echoed softly.
βGood. Then we are on the same page.β I kissed her again, I cannot help it. It was a shorter kiss though, but no less thorough, just as claiming.
When I pulled back, her pupils were blown wide, her breath uneven. βRevandrelβ¦β she murmured.
Since when did my name sound good from that mouth?
βMm?β I groaned low, arching with want. I need to fuck this female.
She was staring at my mouth. βI feel hotβ¦ really warm. And strange.β
βItβs called desire,β I told her. βYou should know.β
But she did not. That was clear.
The confusion and awe in her gaze as they flickered between my eyes and lips. And that oddβ¦innocence in her expression made it undeniable.
She truly did not recognize that she was feeling desire.
.
.
Drop a comment after reading.βοΈ βοΈ
See yβall when I see yβall πΆββπΆπΏββοΈπΆπΏββοΈ
{His Hated Archenemy }ποΈ
A Dark Romance Fantasy,
Written by PΕΓ©ΕΔ§ ΓΕΓΓ§ΓΓ’ ΓΔ Δ―ΘΓΏ (KL)βοΈ
Rated 18+ π
πππππππ ππ. ππ πππππππ. ππ πππππππππππ
************************************
Warning β οΈ: This book is already contracted and signed. Itβs also registered and copyrighted Β©οΈ under the United States law and Nigerian Copyright Law (NCC). Do NOT copy or repost any part of this manuscript. βοΈ
*************************************
LORD REVANDREL
First, I returned to my bedchamber and took another long bath.
This time, not to wash away the fatigue of the journey, but to give myself yet another chance to think beyond the madness, beyond my bodyβs desires, which had somehow become my decision-maker.
And no, the bath helped none. If anything, it only fueled me.
So after freshening up, I left my chamber.
I knew a walk of shame when I saw one, and tonight I was making itβthat much I could admit to myself as I dragged my steps along the long route from my private quarters to the Courtesan Quarters and Lodgings.
I entered their empty, quiet hallway, the walls carrying the sound of my footfalls back to me, each echo reminding me of just how ridiculous I must look.
You would think that would stop me. That it would make me turn around and put an end to this temporary foolishness.
But no.
Standing before her door, I paused and stared at the keys I took from a very confused, very reluctant Sesora.
It is not too late to call off this insanity, Revandrel. Remember who she is. Remember what she did. Remember the plans we have for her.
But hunger is a dangerous itch that needs to be scratched and nipped in the mud. I need to get this, to get her out of my system, once and for all.
Itβs just sex, not some ritual to erase who she is and her crimes against me.
This night, whatever it becomes, will be a night that never existed by morning. It will fade like a fevered dream, leaving nothing behind.
I slid the key into the lock and turned it. The handle twisted. The door opened.
I stepped inside.
Baevera lay in the center of the wide bed, deep in sleep, moonlight tracing silver paths along her bare arms. Her hair spilled across the pillow in a soft, untamed halo, and she had turned slightly toward my side of the bedβone hand resting near her temple, the other loose at the far edge of her head.
She looked like an angel this way. A pure, innocent angel who could do no wrong.
Such a beautifully deceptive appearance for the mother of all evil.
I leaned back against the door and simply watched her. Dangerous as it was, I let the sight of her to settle inside me.
***
LADY BAEVERA
The sound of my lock turning tangled itself with the chaos of my sleep, slipping into my restless dream as nothing more than another stray noise. I did not take it seriouslyβ¦until a scent reached me.
A scent that should not have been here at all cut through everything and dragged me from the haze of sleep to the edge of waking.
Revandrel?
My eyes opened slowly, heavy with exhaustion, and fixed on a silhouette leaning against my door. Was he truly here? In my chambers?
I blinked lazily to force the fog away. Opened my eyes again, and stared harder.
The silhouette remained. Is this real?
I slowly pushed myself up, planting my hands on either side of the bed to lift my upper body. He still had not moved, nor had he spoken.
But it was him. Revandrel stood there, watching me.
Warmth began in the pit of my belly and spread throughout my entire body.
I lowered myself back onto the mattress. Turning to my side, I folded my arms under my cheek and returned his gaze just as steadily.
We stared at each other. Yet it did not feel like a contest of wills.
For once, there was none of the usual aggression between us. No tension, no venom. The air was eased, softened, almost gentle.
I hesitated to speak, knowing the weight the first words would carry. They would set the tone for everything that followed.
If I greeted him with mockeryβsomething like βLook what the cat dragged inββhe would snap, we would fight, and he would leave.
That would be for the best though. If we crossed this line, he would blame me for it. He would hate me more for it.
I should stop this. I should.
But when I opened my mouth, no words came.
It has been three months since the exhibition. Three months since I got behind that curtain with him. Yet, I remember everything.
Every new emotion he unearthed from places inside me I thought were dead, I remember. And tonight, in the dead of night, I want to feel them again.
Ironic, is it not? That I should desire a male who hated me so fiercely.
A male whose hatred for me is so raw it borders on sacred. So pure, it feels alive.
Now, I want that hatred to cross the room, climb into my bed, and touch my skin.
The first time in long centuries I wanted a maleβs touch, and of course, it had to be him.
Of all people, it had to be Evan.
βI want us to fuck.β Revandrel growled at last. βWhat do you have to say about that?β
My stomach flipped violently. βI do not think I have ever heard it said quite like that before.β
He shrugged, unapologetic. βI am not one to lie or cajole, nor do I beat about the bush. I did not rehearse this in the mirror.β
My fingers curled tightly into the mattress beneath me, but my eyes never left him. This absurdly compelling male who always found a way to say all the wrong things and still stir all the wrong feelings.
Who would have thought that the boy I once wanted dead for the crime of existing would one day make me feel so alive merely by standing there?
His demeanor, his fury, his sharp tongue, his mere presence, all of it rouses something in me that nothing else ever does.
When we fight and argue, it stokes emotions I usually never feel in this lifeless existence of mine. And when he touches meβ¦
That warmth in my belly thickened with a vengeance, spreading until my body ached with it. I grew wet between my thighs.
He inhaled sharply, and a low growl slipped from his chest.
Musk. Oh gods. He could smell me.
Mortification seized me even as more fluid seeped out, warm and humiliating, dampening my inner thighs.
I squirmed, squeezing them together, helpless to stop it.
He did not even pretend to hide his reaction. He inhaled again, unashamed, drawing my lust into his lungs.
Oh gods. Must he do that so brazenly? Without a shred of shame?
βI take it we are really doing this then,β he groaned in a low voice filled with want.
My eyes dropped to his robe where the fabric had poked forward, the unmistakable straining of his arousal bold and clear.
My mouth dried up. He was hard for me. So visibly, shamelessly hard.
I want this.
βBaevera?β
I nodded before I could stop myself, before my mind could catch up with the rest of me. I just wanted to feel his touch again. To feel those stirrings inside again. I already felt it once, what was one more foolish decision?
βSorry, but I would need you to put that into words.β
βYes,β I breathed. βLet us fucβget intimate.β
He nodded once, but still did not move.
Those deep, penetrating that saw too much, still remained locked on me. That stare felt as physical as touch.
Was it really this warm in here, or was I going into heat?
Panic tried to scratch its way up my spine, but I dismissed it instantly.
No. This was not a heat-kind of warmth. It was not feral, violent, and demanding, just a steady simmer that made the cool air feel heavier.
Unable to stay still any longer, I uncurled myself and rose from the bed.
Standing at the foot, I met Revandrelβs gaze and, without breaking it, slipped one strap of my nightgown from my shoulder. Then the other.
The fabric whispered down my body, pooling at my feet, taking my undergarments with it.
I stood before him, naked.
It was not the first time he had seen me this way, but suddenly, I felt exposed. I feltβ¦shy. Vulnerable in a way I had not felt in centuries.
I pressed my thighs together, resisting the urge to do something so utterly ridiculous as covering my breasts with my hands.
Nothing to be embarrassed about, Baevera. You look goodβand he is looking.
I tried to reassure myself, but what truly steadied me was the simple fact that Revandrel was really looking.
His eyes roamed my body, slow, thorough, and unashamed.
His stare stripped me further, in a way that made me feel even more naked than my physical nudity already allowed.
If I were not so affected, I might have struck a pose or teased him. But all I could do was stand there fighting the insane urge to dart behind the nearest curtain and hide.
At last, he straightened. Pushed off the door. And strode toward me with measured steps.
I kept my feet planted. I kept my eyes locked on his.
βThis night never happened,β he said at last.
βNo, it did not,β I whispered. That way, I will not think about tomorrow.
βGood.β Then, his hand wrapped around my throat, and he shoved me.
I gasped as I fell backward. But before my body could hit the wall, his hand was there like a shield, bracing between my back and the stone wall. The impact never came.
And before I could make sense of it all, that hand withdrew and returned to my throat.
His fingers were firm, claiming, and his eyes burned down into mine with an intensity that sent a tremor straight through me.
Here we go.
I expected panic at the manhandling, but none came. I felt no fear. My lips parted to speakβ
And his mouth crashed into mine.
What? Uhmm, no way.
βI do not engage in kissing,β I tried to say, but the words were muffled by his demanding lips.
I tried to pull back so I could actually say it, but his hand on my throat held me still, tilting my face exactly where he wanted it.
His lips devoured mine before I could form another protest.
Placing my palms against his arms, I intended to push him away, but somewhere between thought and action, the command becameβ¦lost.
Oh godsβ¦
Revandrel's kiss was overwhelming.
As savage as the male himself. Intense as his gaze. Untamed as his tongue in curse-mode.
Most males I knew cared little for kissing, more obsessed with the act that followed instead. Even the rare few who pretended interest only received my disapproval.
Only a handful have ever truly kissed me, and my betrothed was one of them. But even Philip has never kissed me like this.
Instinctively, my head tilted back, and my lips parted to invite him in.
Revandrelβs tongue swept into my mouth. Bold and serpentine, curling around mine and dominating the kiss.
I kissed him back, but my own tongue was tentative, hesitant, and unsure, nothing like his.
His was a conqueror laying claim. Owning my mouth in a way it has never been owned before.
Finally, he drew back just slightly, his face a breath from mine.
βYour kiss screams of inexperience, which is absurd,β he said lazily. βSo I will simply assume you are bad at it.β
βI donβt do kisses,β I panted, trying to catch my breath. βThe thought of exchanging saliva with them disgusts me.β
He made a sound that was half amused, half mocking. βYou dislike their saliva but can take their bodily fluids inside you?β
That familiar gleam in his eyes and that faint smirk around the corner of his mouth definitely reminded me who I was kissing. Who I was pressed up against the wall, naked for. Not that I ever forgot.
βWhat can I say?β I rasped, still breathless. βA lady is allowed her preferences.β
βMore of a whore than a lady, my lady,β he murmured, voice like rough velvet. His eyes dropped to my lips. βNow let me teach you how it is done.β
Then he slammed his mouth onto mine again.
Another round of it. It was raw, intense, and unapologetic.
I lost all sense of time and place as his tongue plundered mine into oblivion.
My body flushed hot with desire, and a moan rose in my throat.
I forced it back down out of sheer reflex. That was so weird. I have never involuntarily moaned before.
Revandrel devoured me, mouth, lips, and tongue. With no finesse, restraint, or semblance of gentility, as though this kiss was a battle and he was determined to win.
He sucked, he bit lightly, he plundered, alternating between assault and consumption. And all the while, his hand kept its hold on my throat, holding my face up, presenting my lips to him as an offering.
My sexual radar has always been spot on. I should be losing feelings by now, but I felt his kisses down to my toes.
And the more I waited for the numbness to come, the more I felt even more of it.
The warmth flowing through me has grown into a burning pulse, and my body⦠gods, my body feels really, really weird.
Odd in a way I could not describe, only feel.
Is this what desire feels like?
I could not be certain. It has been so long.
But Revandrel kissed me as no one else ever has. And I feel it in places I have never felt before.
And so I surrendered to the kiss, to the male, and let the tide carry me away.
***
LORD REVANDREL
If anyone ever told me a night would come when I would drink from Baeveraβs lips and become drunk on the taste of her, the softness and texture of her lips, and her surrender, I would have fed them to my lions.
But such a night actually existed, and it was happening now.
Her lips were everything I hated to admit I wanted. So soft, so full, so addictive. It does not taste venomous or poisonous.
No, not at all.
It tastedβ¦heavenly. Like nirvana. Like the tasty fruits of the gods.
And her muskβ¦
All musk shared familiar notes, distinguished mostly by gender: males carried heavier musk, richer and thicker, while females were lighter, touched with a faint floral undertone. But Baeveraβs musk held something else.
Something I could not name or identify, but was so sharper and sweeter, and frankly, her musk was driving me insane.
Then she let out a moan.
A small, throaty sound, the first sound of the night, and it shot straight to my cock.
I have never heard her moan before. Gods, it sounded good.
Her body slumped, as if all strength had drained from her in a single breath, and she melted in my hold.
My arm circled her waist, holding her up, keeping her exactly where I wanted her as I ate up her mouth.
Her entire weight pressed against me, soft, warm, trembling, as I devoured and conquered.
Gods.
Gods.
Her lips. This kiss. The meeting of tongues should never be addictive. But somehow hers crossed that line. I have been at it for several minutes now.
And for someone who rarely indulged in kisses that did not involve another part of my anatomy inside the female, I found myself enjoying every moment of it. I could do this all night.
Baevera shivered again, and another moan slipped out.
Her breathing was ragged, her body pressed helplessly against mine. I forced myself to pull back again, needing to look at her.
Her eyes opened slowly, hazy and unfocused, and met mine.
She looked lost.
Hungry.
Dazed.
Bewildered.
Like she could not understand what she was feeling, or what to do with it. Like it scared her.
I realized then, that she had not been lying. She meant it when she said males did not kiss her.
But why?
Why in all the realms would no male try to taste this sweetness, and most importantly, why was she letting me?
My gaze dropped to her lips. They were swollen, red, and bruised by my mouth. Utterly beautiful.
βThis never happened,β I repeated. She needed to understand. By morning, this would be a night scorched from our memories like it had never existed.
βNever happened,β she breathed, her voice light, almost dazed.
βThis does not change anything.β
βNo,β she swallowed hard, and I felt the motion through my hand, still curled around her slender, elegant throat. βIt does not,β she echoed softly.
βGood. Then we are on the same page.β I kissed her again, I cannot help it. It was a shorter kiss though, but no less thorough, just as claiming.
When I pulled back, her pupils were blown wide, her breath uneven. βRevandrelβ¦β she murmured.
Since when did my name sound good from that mouth?
βMm?β I groaned low, arching with want. I need to fuck this female.
She was staring at my mouth. βI feel hotβ¦ really warm. And strange.β
βItβs called desire,β I told her. βYou should know.β
But she did not. That was clear.
The confusion and awe in her gaze as they flickered between my eyes and lips. And that oddβ¦innocence in her expression made it undeniable.
She truly did not recognize that she was feeling desire.
.
.
Drop a comment after reading.βοΈ βοΈ
See yβall when I see yβall πΆββπΆπΏββοΈπΆπΏββοΈ
