The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

She’d claimed me.

And she’d kept me, even after knowing what I was, who I was, and what I’d done. She loved me.

A better man, one not steeped in the kind of blood I was, would’ve walked away. Would’ve left her to find someone good. Deserving.

But I wasn’t that kind of man.

“Cas?”

Good gods, my entire body jerked at the sound of her voice. My damn breath actually seized in my lungs. I couldn’t even move at first. I was so locked up. Just her voice did that. Her voice.

Control rushed back into my body, and I spun in the bubbling water. I saw her then, and the sight of her…

She stood there, the water frothing around rounded hips and teasing the soft dips and rises of her belly. My lips tingled with the memory of tracing those faded claw marks above her navel, and the need to drop to my knees and pay homage to them almost drove me underwater.

I took in the faint pink marks streaking across her left temple and cutting through the arched brow—healed wounds that were as beautiful as the freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose. Scars that only spoke to the strength of the delicate sweep of her cheekbones and her proud brow. And those eyes…

They were wideset and large, heavily lashed, and they had been stunning before, reminding me of glistening spring grass. Now, the silvery glow behind the pupils and the thin wisps streaking through the green were striking. Her eyes… Hell, they were a window to my soul.

I drank her in, my lips parting on a breath that never left me. All that beautiful red-wine hair cascaded over her shoulders and skimmed the water. The heavy swell of her breasts parted the tangled mass of curls and waves, offering a tantalizing glimpse of rosy-pink skin. My heart stuttered—actually skipped a godsdamn beat as I continued soaking in the sight of that stubborn, slightly pointed chin and those fucking mind-blowing lips that were dewy and ripe like sweet berries. My cock hardened so quickly it finally kicked the air out of my lungs. Those lips…

They were a torment in the best possible way.

Never in my life had it taken me so long to find my voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

That mouth…the corners tipped up, and the smile that raced across her face owned me.

Always.

And forever.

Poppy lurched forward, and I pushed through the water. It swirled in a frenzy as we cut through it, reaching each other at the same moment.

I took her in my arms, and the contact of her warm, soft flesh against mine nearly stopped my heart. It might’ve. I didn’t know.

Fisting a hand in her silken hair, I dropped my head to hers and held her. Held her tightly as she wrapped her arms around my waist. “My Queen,” I whispered as the crown of her head brushed my lips. I inhaled deeply, finding a hint of jasmine, the scent of her, underneath the lilac.

“My King.” Poppy shuddered, and I managed to find a way to press her even closer to me.

I closed my eyes. “You shouldn’t call me that.” I kissed her head again. “I’ll get an overinflated sense of self-importance.”

She laughed. Gods, her laugh did just as I’d warned. It made me feel important. Powerful. Because I could make her laugh when the sound had been so rare.

“Then you shouldn’t call me your Queen,” she said.

“But you are important.” I forced my grip on her hair to loosen. I ran my fingers through the strands, marveling at the feel. The realness. “A goddess. Which, by the way, just want to point out…I knew it. Maybe I should call you—”

She jerked back, her eyes going wide as she tilted her head back and looked up at me. “You…you know?”

Gods, those eyes… The green with the wispy tendrils of silver was enthralling.

“Casteel?” She pressed a hand—a warm palm a little callused from handling a sword and dagger—against my chest.

“Your eyes…” I slipped my hand to her cheek. “They’re mesmerizing,” I told her. “Almost as much as those plump little—”

“Casteel.” Her cheeks blushed a pretty shade of pink.

I chuckled, and I wanted to do it again when I saw how her lips parted at the sound. “Yeah, I know you’re a goddess.”

“How?” The softness vanished from her features instantaneously. Her jaw hardened under my palm. So did her eyes. They became fractured emerald jewels. The transformation was shocking…and really hot. “The Blood Queen.”

“I knew the moment she said Malec was a god. That would mean you’re one, too.”

“Malec’s not my father. It’s Ires,” she said. “Malec’s twin. He’s the cave cat—the one we saw in the cage.”

Surprise blasted through me, but it made sense. Isbeth had no idea where Malec was. She hadn’t even realized that he was still alive—at least technically. I should’ve caught onto that when Isbeth asked about where Malec was.