A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

Hands trembling slightly, I ran my fingers through his hair and then across his skin where the tattoo stretched to the nape of his neck. He slid his hand out from my hair as mine traveled over the corded muscles lining his spine. His fingers grazed the length of my arm, from the top of my hand all the way to my shoulder and then down again. His palm glided against the side of my breast and then to my waist. A soft sound left me as my back arched, one I’d only ever heard in the shadowy areas of the garden or in the heavily curtained rooms of The Jade.

His hand stilled on my hip, his touch becoming heavier there as his mouth left mine. “Was that kiss satisfactory?”

My eyes fluttered open, colliding with his. “It will do.”

He laughed, low and throaty. “You’re hard to impress, aren’t you?”

“Not really,” I said, even though I was thoroughly impressed.

“Ouch.” His hand tightened on my hip. “Then I suppose I’ll have to change that.”

This…the teasing was unfamiliar and exciting. Like when I discovered a new passageway in the Garden District, but way, way better. I liked it. A lot. It called to something inside me, something easy and free. “I suppose you do.”

But it was me who did.

My mouth reclaimed his, and the way our lips met was fierce and demanding, igniting a riot of wild, breathless sensations inside me that I eagerly fell and spiraled into. I was wonderfully lost in them—in him. The feel of his cool lips. The touch of his tongue against mine, and that unexpected nip of his fangs. His honey taste, and his lush scent. And I knew these were the kinds of kisses I’d read about in those books. The ones I’d never experienced at The Jade when I sought to ease the restless energy in me. Because I could do this for hours and never grow tired. I knew this because I wanted more. His hand on my hip squeezed and then skidded lower. A wicked twist of anticipation curled low and deep inside me.

Ash’s hand drifted to the edge of the slip, and then the rough skin of his palm skimmed my bare leg. In that moment, I didn’t think I’d ever been gladder that I wasn’t wearing pants.

His lips moved against mine as he drew his hand up the length of my leg, under the slip. I reacted without much thought, curling my leg in a silent request for him to keep exploring. Every part of my body went taut as his palm skimmed my bare upper thigh. An ache settled in a very unmentionable place, the one his hand was only inches from.

But he stilled.

Ash ended the kiss, breathing unevenly like me, and that shook me. A god was just as affected as I was. “This will…” He swallowed, looking down between us. “Gods…”

Every part of me focused on where the tips of his fingers brushed the lower curve of my rear. I looked down, following his gaze. The loose bodice of my slip had inched down, exposing just the hardened tips of my breasts. His gaze fell to where the hem of my slip had bunched around his forearm, dragged above my hips. The contrast of our skin, even in the moonlight, was a surprisingly intimate sight. As were the shadowy areas now exposed to the balmy night air—and to him.

Trembling, I glanced up at him. His features had sharpened, becoming stark. And there was this need and hunger to his parted lips. I could see a hint of those fangs, and another shudder ran through me. I wondered if I should attempt to shield myself from his gaze—if he expected that from me. But if he did, he would be disappointed. I wanted him to look upon me like he wanted to devour me.

And I thought I might actually want to be devoured.

I could feel the heated intensity of his stare as he lifted his gaze. He lowered his head, his mouth claiming mine. His kiss was demanding, tugging on my lower lip with his sharp fangs. I yielded to him, opening. The kiss deepened, and his tongue slid over mine, his mouth capturing my breathless moan. The taste of him, his smell…all of him invaded me, my senses, burning me. An aching, pulsing need centered in my core, so close to where his hand remained on my leg. His thumb moved along the crease of my thigh, sending a throbbing pulse through me as his mouth left mine, trailing down the side of my neck. He lingered over my pulse, his tongue a hot, wet slide against the flesh. His head tilted, and I felt the sharp, unexpected drag of his fangs.

My entire body arched as his name escaped on a soft exhale, “Ash.”