The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)

My voice falters, but I spit it out because it’s the one that hurt the most. “Unattractive.”

“Fuck,” Carrick mutters, his expression one of self-loathing. “Finley—”

“No, this is a mistake,” I cut in, not able to handle the pity in his voice. “You’re a freaking demi-god, Carrick. I’m just a mere mortal and a childish one at that. You’ll end up being disappointed and—”

I’m not sure what happens, but everything goes gray, and the bedroom disappears. Then I feel my stomach flip as I seem to be spinning in a vortex of shadows mixed with light. There’s a weightlessness to my body until the next thing I know, my vision clears, my feet are firmly on the floor, and I’m standing naked in front of the full-length mirror set in the corner of my bedroom.

I flush, going hot all over as I see my reflection and Carrick standing behind me, also naked.

Where in the hell did our clothes go?

“Oh, God,” I moan, partly in horror and partly in fascination as Carrick stares at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a complete mess, some hanging over my shoulder, some trailing down my back, but it looks windblown, and, if I had to guess, Carrick just cycloned me naked and transported me across the room.

My knees almost buckle as he steps in close behind me, and I feel the obvious evidence of his desire against my back, but he does nothing more than press in lightly. It’s when he brings one arm around me to cup my opposite breast that I start to get dizzy.

Eyes fluttering closed, I can feel nothing but the way his palm curves around the underside of my breast and just holds it possessively.

“Look,” Carrick demands, and my eyes pop open to find his on me in the mirror. “Look at yourself.”

I’m afraid to, but I finally let my eyes cast down on the reflection of my body to where his hand is cupping me. It’s almost too much, that muscled arm crossing over me, his golden skin against my paleness, and I start to tremble.

His other hand comes to rest on my hip as he murmurs, “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Finley. It was harsh—the words I said—born out of anger, which was born out of fear for you.”

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that until this very moment. I didn’t understand how much weight I’d attached to Carrick’s words or how much I needed him to at least respect me.

But to hear him call me beautiful does something to my soul because those aren’t just words. I hear it in his tone, and I see it right now as his eyes freely wander all over my exposed body, naked except for the one breast covered by his hand.

Dipping his head to bring his lips near my ear, his gaze now pinning mine through the mirror’s reflection, he murmurs, “I’m going to fuck you thoroughly now, and, after that, I hope there’s never a doubt in your mind as to how I see you.”

And… my legs do buckle and my sex clenches, and once again… I’m in Carrick’s arms for a brief moment until I’m under him on my bed again.

As he hovers over me, I hold his gaze for a perfect moment where I see nothing but adoration and desire, and I try to memorize it.

Then his lips are back on mine, kissing me deeply into submission. His hands seem to be everywhere, stroking, pinching, cupping, and then, oh God… delving. It seems like he has me bucking, squirming, and begging for hours, especially when his mouth goes where, in my ten years of adulthood, no man’s mouth has ever gone before.

It has to be magic, or maybe it’s because we have some tie through the fates, but Carrick makes my body sing an aria for him. He makes me orgasm, over and over and over again, until I don’t think I can take another one, and then he proves me wrong.

But if the gods strike me down right now, I’ll be happy. The moment he enters me with one hard, fluid thrust, I think my world shatters because everything I thought I knew about sex and passion and intimacy has become a sham.

With every stroke of his cock and his tongue, I fall farther and farther into a place that belongs only to him.

But what affects me the most is seeing Carrick affected.

My cool, detached, unemotional demi-god isn’t recognizable to me anymore. So many emotions register in his expression—from raging lust to almost painful tension with the need to release—and Carrick doesn’t hide a single one from me.

As his thrusts get faster and I feel myself building up again, he captures my eyes with his own, making it impossible to look away.