Page 193 of The Mercy of Dawn

“That’s a dangerous word, wrath.” His voice was a low, haughty rumble as he rocked himself through the slick heat already building between her thighs. She slipped a breathy, needy moan of his name when his fingers slid down too. “Please what?”

“Please, Mika, I—” He sank a finger into her, followed by a second, and she whined.

“Tell me what you want, Cyr.”

“You, I want—” It was like he didn’t want her to speak, the smug arse. “Just fuck me again, please.”

Cyril won with that.

Mikael inhaled sharply, and was already pushing into her when he muttered something about her having a filthy mouth.

She didn’t care.

She was pleasantly sore, and so damn full.

Between the insistent touch of his fingers, and whatever in the hells kind of bliss was coming from the slow pumps of his hips at this angle…Cyril came undone before she knew it.

Mikael didn’t wait for the aftershocks of her release to settle before he eased Cyril onto her stomach and chased his end.

The noises Mikael made were a special, addictive sort of torture. All ragged, full-bodied groans laced with profane declarations, and all because of the pleasure he found with her body. Cyril would be a liar if she said the entire notion didn’t do unreasonable things to her confidence.

Another current of pleasure rippled through her when Mikael finally shuddered and fell over the edge too, with a husky rumble of her name.

She made a petulant little noise of protest when he eased out of her and settled back on his side. The smile on his face was everything to her. Euphoria was back in full swing and Cyril felt like she was floating on a damn cloud.

She pressed her face down into the pillows and let out a happy sigh. How long her eyes ended up shut for, she did not know, but she gave a start when Mikael carded his fingers through her hair.

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her temple. “Come have a bath?”

Cyril blinked at him.

“A bath, together?”

Amusement flickered in those sleepy, glacial eyes of his.

“Yes, together. Or is that where you’re drawing the line?” He raised a single, angular brow. “Lady Cyril Rhodea will ask me to fuck her, but sharing a bath is off-limits?”

Her cheeks burned.

“That’s not what I—ugh.” She pressed her face back into the pillows. “I’ve never done this, okay? I don’t know what’s…not weird.”

Cyril laughed a little at herself.

“Then come have a bath with me. I’ll show you how not weird it is.”

He pressed another kiss to her temple and tossed his side of the covers back. Every proud, naked inch of him climbed out of bed and sauntered towards the bathroom.

It was then Cyril noticed that Reykr’s Prince Commander had something that looked suspiciously like the outline of a heart tattooed on his otherwise damn perfect backside.

She shook her head, watching him with appreciation the entire way.

“You don’t have to be shy with me, wrath…”

Mikael had his head tipped at Cyril in that predatory sort of way of his, his arms splayed out across the back ledge of the tub. He was nothing but wet, gleaming muscle laid out on display for her, the water lapping at his stomach.

A view she had thoroughly enjoyed until he opened his damned mouth and suggested she strip for him. She stood frozen on the first step into the water, still very much dressed in the prince’s shirt.

“Last night, I saw–”