Tale of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 3) - Page 52

“Lich,” he replied in a dusky growl.

She grinned teasingly. “They are the same thing.” Needling him with her constant mislabeling of his undead species was one of her favorite games. And it was not one he seemed to mind in the slightest, despite his outward protest.

“Perhaps I should just make it easy on you.” He pulled her hips roughly to his again, grinding his body to hers, making her gasp. She needed to cling to the front of his tunic to keep from toppling over backward. “Perhaps I shall become Dr. Gideon Raithe, just for you.”

“I—ah—” She had to stop as he ground himself against her a third time, mimicking the dance he clearly wished to begin. “But Marguerite Raithe sounds—sounds terrible.”

“Hm…it does.” His hand slid to her knee and then began to work its way north up her thigh, slipping beneath her skirts. “You may stay Marguerite Valard, then.”

“How thoughtf—” Her words broke off in a cry as his hand wormed its way into her undergarments. His fingers had gone quickly to work. He banded an arm around her to hold her steady.

Nervous fear took over, and she went rigid. “Gideon, I—”

“Sshh.” He kissed her cheek. “Our first time shall not be here, surrounded by my gory work. It shall be tonight, in our bed, after a lovely dinner and a bottle of wine. But allow me, if I might…” He slipped a finger inside her slowly, sinking himself deep into her to the knuckle to the tune of her mewling whimper. “Do this much.”

As he began to slide his finger from her only to plunge it back in, she had no words with which to argue. When a second finger joined the first, he captured her cry in a kiss. Pleasure crashed through her, snapping through her veins, sending all the rest of the world away.

There was only him—the strength in his frame, the feeling of safety with his arm around her. The smell of petrichor and spices. The spiritual power she could feel beneath his skin now that she could recognize it. His kiss was insistent, possessive, and greedy. She wondered if her lips would be bruised from the embrace. If he means to devour me, to consume me, let it be like this.

Gideon Raithe was her world.

He laid her onto her back, following her down, now supporting his weight with one arm while the other hand worked between them. With more room, he sped his pace, no longer so gentle.

She found herself lifting her hips to his assault.

When his thumb stroked over her hypersensitive bud, she broke away from his lips to cry out loudly, the sound echoing off the stone walls, as everything in her body went white-hot. Ecstasy. Bliss. The end of loneliness. That was what he gave her in that moment.

She held him close as he stilled his movements and pulled his hand away from her. But he stayed over her, kissing her cheek, allowing her the space to breathe. And she was desperate for the air. With a grunt, she shut her eyes.

He chuckled.

“What?”

“You are beautiful.”

“That was not why you laughed.”

“I was pondering the simple fact that should I have known how today’s lesson was going to end, I would have begun this particular chapter earlier. Much, much earlier.”

That was funny. She chuckled. “I do see your point.”

He straightened, lifting her back to sitting, and tenderly kissed her. “You may have the rest of the afternoon to yourself. I fear what I might do if you remain in my presence. I may not have the strength of my convictions.”

She glanced around his laboratory. Filled with its jars of strange liquid, bits of human remains, skulls, and the like…no. She did not think she would want her first time to be in a place such as this.

Perhaps her second.

I am going to burn in Hell.

This was wrong. The way she felt was a perversion. She had fallen for a monster, and what did that make of her? Perhaps it was not her fault. It was fully possible he had placed an enchantment on her. Forced her to fall in love with him.

No. That could not be true. If that were the case, he would have done so the moment he laid eyes on her. He would not have waited this long. No, this aberration was all her doing.

I need to escape before it is too late for me. Or…I need advice on how to accept what I have become.

Shutting her eyes, she looked away. “May I have some privacy this afternoon? I—I tire of the constant supervision. I want to gather my thoughts in peace, if that is all right.”

“What thoughts must you gather, princess?” He tilted her head back up toward him.

Tags: Kathryn Ann Kingsley Memento Mori Fantasy
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