The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

“I think I will need to see you do that daily.”

“Gods,” she rasped. “You are so bad.”

“Yeah, I am.” Closing my hand around hers, I pressed it into the mattress beside her head as I eased a leg between those soft, plump thighs. I gave her my weight, sinking into all that warm softness, and she took it all with a soft smile. “But I can be good. I can even be more bad. I can be whatever you want.”

“I just want you.” She pressed her palm to my cheek. “As you are.”

Hell.

I shook like a fragile sapling in a windstorm at the touch of her heat against the head of my dick. I sank into her slick heat, lashed by shards of pleasure. “I love you. I’m so very much in love with you.”

Her arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly as she lifted her legs, curling them around my hips and urging me forward. “I love you always and forever.”

I ignored the throbbing in my fangs. I wouldn’t feed. I wouldn’t take anything from her tonight. I would just give.

My heart hammered as I began moving, intending to go slow and steady, to make this last. But the soft sounds she made, the startling friction of our bodies, and all that came before this made it impossible. Nothing felt like her. Absolutely nothing compared to how she made me feel and how her very presence invaded every cell of my body. There was no me. There was no her. There was only us, our mouths clinging to each other’s, our hands and hips sealing together. We were so close, so tight as I ground against her, that I felt it when Poppy broke. The spasms obliterated my control. My release blew through me, coming and coming in tight waves that left my body jerking for several moments.

Poppy’s mouth sought mine, and she kissed me softly. She was, gods, she was everything. I loathed separating us, but I knew I was seconds away from collapsing on her. Letting out a ragged groan, I eased out of her and onto my side. Gathering her in my arms, I held her close, and she held me tighter. When my eyes closed this time, I knew that no bad dreams would find me.

My Queen simply would not allow it.

Chapter 41

Poppy

The Craven stumbled through the thick mist, its coal-red eyes mindless with hunger, and its sallow, patchy, gray skin clung to its skull for dear life.

“That…” Casteel twisted sharply, his movements as graceful as any dancer’s at the balls once held in Masadonia. His bloodstone sword sliced through the air with a hiss, cutting through a Craven’s neck. “Is an old one.”

Old was an understatement.

I had no idea when this Craven had been turned. Its skin was as bad as its clothing. Its mouth dropped open, baring jagged sets of fangs. Howling, the Craven raced toward me. I firmed my grip on my wolven-bone dagger—

A sleek, russet-hued wolven exploded from the mist, landing on the Craven’s back and taking it down.

“Oh, come on,” I grumbled. “I had that one.”

A cedar and vanilla imprint reached me through the notam. Vonetta’s laugh drifted through my thoughts.

My eyes narrowed on her. You’re not even supposed to be here, Regent.

Her laugh got louder, stronger as she tore into the Craven’s chest with her claws, going straight for its heart.

My lips curled. “That’s gross.”

“There’s definitely more for you to stab.” Emil caught a Craven, shoving it back into the damp, grayish bark of a blood tree. “Because they’re like…everywhere. Take your pick.”

I spun as a shriek blasted the air. I made out the shapes of at least a dozen more Craven in the mist.

Three days in the northeastern region of the Blood Forest, and this was the first time we’d come across a horde this size. We’d seen a few Craven here and there—at most, half a dozen. But today—or was it tonight? It was hard to tell this deep in the forest, where the sun couldn’t penetrate, and snow flurries were a constant companion—it was like we had come upon a nest of them.

I jumped to the side as Naill struck down one that seemed to rise from the ground. “I can’t be the only one who thinks this many Craven is odd,” I said, bracing myself as the ones in the mist flowed forward, their low-pitched whines rapidly increasing in sound—and annoyance.

“You’re not,” Casteel agreed, unsheathing his second bloodstone short sword as he joined me.

Kieran, in his mortal form, threw a dagger, impaling a Craven to a nearby tree as we, along with Naill and Perry and half a dozen wolven, formed a circle. “Maybe we’re getting close to the ruins or even where Malec is entombed.”

That was what I had been thinking as I kicked out, knocking a Craven back into Delano’s path. He shoved his blade through the Craven’s chest as I turned, jabbing my dagger into another’s heart. I hadn’t wanted to use the locater spell until we reached the ruins, so I hoped this meant that we were nearing that location.