Page 131 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Her lips gave way beneath my own, hot, soft and deliciously tempting. It was supposed to be chaste a caress. Supposed to be simple. But fucking hell, Alvara immediately moved with me like we’d done this a thousand times, and I sucked down her air like it was mine for the taking, shifting my hands into her hair, one sliding along her jaw to grab the back of her neck. I pulled her bottom lip between my teeth, needing to taste her. But the more my lips touched, the more that I wanted. Starved for her, fire licked up my spine like her suppressed power had found a conduit, devouring me in the process. Fucking hell, this woman would be the death of me.
A little noise escaped her, somewhere between a whimper and a moan. I buried the desire to hear more of them. Tonight was to comfort. To finally touch, and soothe, not claim. With a groan, I peeled our lips apart, chuckling as she made to follow. Our smiles were tangible in the air between us, and I swore under my breath. Slowly, deliberately, I pressed my lips to her forehead.
Alvara’s breath hitched, and she immediately, hastily made to pull off my shirt. I wrapped my fingers around her hands, and she paused. Most of my chest exposed already, I leaned down and kissed her hair.
“I don’t expect anything from you, Ally.” I meant it. It wasn’t the time. Wouldn’t feel right, even if she offered, vulnerable as she was. I had just intended to comfort her. To feel her for a moment. To give her a touch she hadn’t had in centuries. To show her how beautiful she was to me.
“August?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop talking,” she breathed, and pressed her lips against my now bare chest. She flicked the shirt the rest of the way off, and then dropped it to the ground.
FIFTY-TWO
SOUL BOUND
ALVARA
I don’t expect anything from you, Ally.I could tell he meant it. Didn’t mean for me to assume anything. But I wanted him. More of him. All of him, if he was ready. I’d waited too damn long as it was. His touch, his kisses, his scent, every part of him was like a high I had no intention of coming down from. And to know him like that…Not to let me into his mind, not for a reading, or to use my gifts like the war tool they were. But to touchme. It had been nearly three hundred long, exhausting years without such a caress.
It was heaven, an aching kind of bliss, that touch.
My heart hammered against my ribcage in a violent assault, and I willed it to calm, closing my eyes, breathing him in. August. August Porter. The man who so patiently waited these months. Who had not reprimanded me for shoving him out of the way when a gruesome death loomed in my path. Who had trusted me, through fear, grief, and doubt, staring down a demon that hijacked my body, digging for me beneath it. Who made me laugh. Who wanted me. Evidently not for my strength. Not for my gifts. But me.
This version—the pathetic, stripped down, mortal version cradled in his broad, strong, hands. At my lowest point, he still wanted me.
“Stop talking.” It was supposed to be a demand, but the words came out breathless. More heat blossomed in me, as though the warmth of him flooded through my body. I tossed his shirt to the ground.
August’s eyes scoured my face, as though he was really seeing me for the first time. Perhaps, with my power vanished, hewasseeing me. The real me below all the energy, bravado, and fire. August bowed his forehead down to mine, gently tapping my nose with his. Our breath mingled between us, his scent as much an embrace as his body. Again, he traced those calloused, gentle fingers up and down my arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake, heat trailing beneath the skin.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his warm breath against my lips sending anticipation up my spine. Core winding tighter by the heartbeat. I pulled back a bit, inclining my head to the side in question. He made to explain, “For waiting so long. For not…not making the time to let you in. For not…opening to your mind in that way. I wish that I had. Wish that we’d had more of these moments. Wanted to so many times, but the timing just always felt…wrong.” The words came tumbling out of him, and he tucked a stray lock behind my ear, leaving his palm against my cheek. “I’m not afraid of you, Ally. I trust you. I…I want you. All of you. I—”
It was my lips that silenced the onslaught of August’s thoughts, of guilt, wanting, and worry. Raised onto my tiptoes, I pressed our lips together, and that heat radiated through every inch of my body, settling in my low belly. “I saidstop talking.”
I brought our mouths back together, and it seemed to unlock him. August’s hands were suddenly everywhere. Stroking my shoulder, wrapping around the low of my back, pulling me against his warm, hard body. His fingers slid through my hair to cup the back of my head, urging me tighter into the kiss. My own roamed over the fire of him as it consumed me wholly, fingers scraping over the broad, unyielding muscles of his back. I slid the other one up into his curls, pleasure coiling within me at the feel of them between my fingers, and the intimacy of his own hand tangling in mine, wrapping it into a fist he locked at my nape.
He pressed his soft lips into mine, again, and again. Gently, he pulled on my lower lip, before releasing it from his teeth, and tracing the shape with his tongue. With a soft moan, I opened for him, and my breath caught as he pushed inside, exploring every inch of my mouth. I welcomed him. Savored the feel of his tongue against my own, his heat lashing against every wall. I gently sucked it deeper, and a groan escaped him as he pulled me tighter still, his demanding tug on my hair adding a delicious hint of pain as he tilted my face to his. His body was just as hungry to devour me as I was him. He wrapped his palm around my hip, gripping me possessively and guiding me towards the vanity until my ass hit the granite. Lips still fully locked, tongues exploring, August dropped his second hand to my waist, my breath snagging and eyes flying open as he lifted me onto the counter. My legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him tighter against me, hands racing to wrap around his back. I would never get enough of his mouth. Of his touch.
It was the sudden slap of water lapping onto the marble floor that pulled us apart. August swore under his breath and dove for the gold faucet. I laughed despite myself, before drawing in a long, steadying breath. My hands were trembling. So were his, I realized with no small bit of satisfaction. He plunged a bare arm into the deep pool of bubbles, the water coming above his shoulder to his neck until it wet the longest curls. He pulled the plug to let a bit of the water out. Making space for me. He grinned over his other shoulder, the expression equal parts amusement and exasperation, muscles rippling down his abdomen with the small twist. August was beautiful. I’d known that, seen him sparring, and running shirtless. But seeing him like this, with the heat a living thing between us…a sentient sculpture in front of me. When the water had lowered an inch, he plugged the drain, fluidly rose to his feet, and shook off the water like a dog. I laughed as it splattered over me. He scowled at the soaked floor and twisted his hand with a flick of the wrist, summoning the water off the marble, and channeling it into the sink.
“Show off,” I grumbled. Amusement rumbled through him.
“It’s good for you, to get a taste of what being with you is like most the time.” August winked at me playfully, and then grinned, his face flushing. Mine must have done the same. “Where do you keep your towels?” I inclined my head towards the towering cabinet beside my vanity, littered with lotions, cosmetics, and countless brushes. He crossed the room and removed three. August laid one out like a rug at the base of the tub and set the other two on the now dry marble beside it. One for my hair, and one for me, I realized as he made towards the door.
“August?”
He paused on the threshold, eyes bright on my face. He took one lingering step back towards me and closed the gap when I motioned him forward. August intertwined our fingers, pressing my palm against his in a movement that felt intensely intimate. He seemed to note the same thing as he smiled that crooked grin and gave my hand a little squeeze. His warm lips found my own again. Once, twice, three times he pressed them against me, still warm, still urgent. Just a fraction less so after the interruption. He pulled me against him, squeezing our bodies as tightly together as possible. Before I could pick up where we’d left off, August made to step away again, and every exhausted piece of my body whimpered in protest. He grinned sweetly, warming my cheeks.
“Stay.” The word was a whisper, breathless and wanting. August’s smile faltered, his eyes hesitant.
“Ally, I…I want to. Believe me. But…after all you’ve been through tonight, you deserve time to…rest. To think.”
“I don’t expect anything either, okay? I just…stay? Please.” I did, in fact want more from him. I wanted to give him everything, to devour every inch of him. But his honor—it was a part of what I loved about August Porter...
His eyes took turns on each of my own. Careful, calculating, evaluating the sincerity in my request. Whatever he saw was evidently deemed satisfactory.
August inclined his head in acquiescence, voice soft as he said, “Anything.”
