The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

“You know better, Poppy. You don’t ever have to beg.”

Another full-body shudder took me at the sound of his voice—at the words replacing the last ones and the hoarsely shouted pleas.

“You have me,” he swore against my swollen lips. “Always.”

“And forever,” I whispered.

He shook even harder. “I needed to hear that. You have no idea how badly I needed to hear you.” He reclaimed the distance between us, capturing my lips with his. “Did my need somehow conjure you into reality? I don’t know. I can’t think beyond this. Beyond the way you feel.” His sharp fangs tugged against my lips once more, scattering my thoughts. “Not when you’re here, in my arms.”

The kiss deepened again as his tongue touched mine, sending a flurry of swirling, heated sensations through me. “Not when I can taste you. Feel you.” His shaking hand slid over my arm, grazing the side of my breast and then my waist. He kept going, the rough calluses on his palms just as I remembered. His hand slipped under the water and closed around my hip, his fingers pressing into the flesh there. He dragged his hand back up, cupping it to my breast as a primitive, raw sound left him. I gasped.

“I feel this.” He ran his thumb over the aching tip of my breast, and then his palm skimmed my waist again, delving once more under the water. When he gripped my hip this time, he tugged me up and against him and his rigid length. “Can you feel me? Tell me. Can you feel me, Poppy?”

“I feel you.” My fingers tangled in his hair as I rocked against him. I wanted to feel him moving inside me. I wanted to feel that delicious tug and pull. “You’re all I feel, even when you’re not with me. I love you so much.”

His hoarse cry swallowed mine as he pulled me down onto his thick length—

A shock went through me. The feel of him stretching me, filling me was pure pleasure with a wicked bite. An intense sensation that was…

I stiffened, my pulse racing. The feel of him, the enormous presence… Gods, it felt real.

Like really real.

I looked down at us—at the hardened tips of my breasts and the fine dusting of hair on his chest. At where my soft belly met his harder one. I watched him breathe quickly and raggedly. I watched him shake as he held himself still while deep inside me. I felt him twitch where we were joined under the churning water. I continued staring at us—at him and his body. The leanness to his frame that hadn’t been there before. The thin marks that slowly appeared, spreading across his chest beside the numerous faded nicks and cuts of his old scars. My already pounding heart sped up.

“Is this…is this real?” I whispered.

Casteel lifted his head, his heated stare piercing mine. His arm tightened around my waist. “Your eyes,” he said, his voice thick and husky. “There isn’t just an aura behind the pupils. There are streaks of silver piercing the green.” Confusion pinched the tense lines of his face. “I’ve never seen them like this.”

The way he described them reminded me of something. Of her. The Consort. The back of my neck cooled rapidly. I breathed in deeply and caught the scent of something else beneath the lilac and Cas’s lush, pine spice.

The musty scent of damp, stale air.

The chill in my skin spread, but his felt hotter. Feverish. “Do you feel that?” I shivered as goosebumps broke out. “I’m…I’m cold.”

“I…” He trailed off as his head jerked at the sound of… It wasn’t falling water. It was a heavier sound. A clanking.

My breath caught. I stared at him—really looked at him. The shadow of a beard. The hollows under his cheekbones. The cuts in his skin. I saw the moment the confusion cleared his radiant, golden eyes.

And wonder poured into them. “Heartmates,” he choked out.

“What—?”

Casteel kissed me again. Hard. Consuming. He kissed me as if he could draw me into him. When his mouth left mine this time, he didn’t go far. “Gods. Poppy, I miss you so bad it hurts.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest. Tears rushed to my eyes. “Cas…”

He folded both arms around me and held me tighter than before, but I was even colder. He trembled as he dropped his head to my shoulder. His chest rose with an unsteady breath against mine.

“Poppy,” he breathed, kissing my cheek, the space below my ear, and then my shoulder. He pressed his mouth to the side of my neck. “My beautiful, brave Queen. I could stay here, holding you, forever.”

Oh, gods, I knew this was ending. Panic exploded. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave us. I love you. Please. I love—”

“Find me again.” His head lifted, and his eyes…they were no longer bright, his features no longer clear. Things were hazy, and I couldn’t—oh, gods, I couldn’t feel him. “Find me. I’ll be waiting here. Always. I—”