Page 71 of Demon's Beauty

Hands wrapped around his horns, I pull him closer, arching into him. A strangled cry lodges in my throat, and he takes that as all the encouragement he needs to lavish attention on oneand then the other. Lips and tongue and teeth, the hint of a fang against tender flesh.

I’m so lost in it, so consumed by him, that I don’t even notice him lowering me to the sleeping pallet on the floor until my back hits the soft furs.

Finn stretches out on top of me, heavy and delicious as his hips slot against mine, as the hard ridge beneath his fitted black trousers presses into my core.

Goddess, I’m sure I’m soaking right through the fabric, but I hardly care.

He feels incredible.

Not just the physicality of him, but the power, the sparkling strands of the bond that grow brighter with each passing moment.

This is reckless, senseless, but once that magick grabs hold of me, it’s impossible to stop.

Not reckless at all, the magick whispers,the most sensible thing in the world.

Nothing could ever make more sense than this.

Me. Finn. The frantic beating of our hearts and the giddy panting of our breath.

The bond, pulsing so brightly, I can’t believe it’s not…

Glowing.

There, between us, gossamer filaments light up the darkness.

Our magick, made manifest.

It’s breathtaking, miraculous, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen as I pull back and wonder at them.

They light up all the granite-carved angles of Finn’s face, making him somehow even more handsome as he wonders, too, as the two of us—breathing hard and hearts beating in time with one another—pause to marvel.

We don’t say a word.

There are so many, right there on the tip of my tongue, but none of them seem to be enough.

For so many years, magick has almost seemed mundane to me.

It’s been my day in, day out, and in my specialty of potion-making I spend more time carefully weighing, measuring, checking my work twice and then checking it again, than I do communing with the Goddess and truly reveling in the craft.

But this?

This is different.

This is wild and wondrous, and I want it to last forever.

I want tofeelit forever, coursing through me, reminding me who I am and what a gift it is to be a witch.

Reaching up, I run my hands through Finn’s curls. Another low rumble breaks in his chest, and a breathless giggle slips out of me before I pull his mouth back to mine.

The kiss explodes with more of that magick, pulsing between us hot and heavy. It wraps tighter and tighter with each drag of our lips. With the press of Finn’s fangs at my jaw. With the groan of pleasure he lets out when he makes his way back to my breasts and then lower, murmuring little bits of worship and adoration as he goes.

When he settles himself between my legs, he lifts my spread thighs and puts them over his shoulders, baring me to him completely.

“Let me?” he asks, and his voice is so earnest, so excited, so hopeful, that I have to stifle a laugh.

Probably wouldn’t help the mood.

Instead, I nod, and his face lights up like he just won the lottery.