Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(97)

They would heal, just as long as Lark did. “Are you okay?” I asked her. Aric had said he had a medic in the compound. I really hoped that Ogen hadn’t eaten him. “Can you stand?”

With effort, Lark said, “Is the Devil dead?”

Gazing back at Aric, I answered, “Lots of things died down here tonight.”



The Arcana were buzzing.

—Death turned on his own.—

—Devil no more!—

—Empress next.—

I sat in my darkened room, lit only by fire. Aric was going to come for me tonight. Again, I wondered what I would do.

I’d left Lark and the animals in the care of Aric and the medic, a nondescript human who’d been hiding from Ogen in the coal cellar. The young man had wanted to bandage me, but once he’d pronounced his other patients stabilized, I’d left to go scour off the layers of gore.

Aric had said nothing more to me, but he’d been thrumming with tension whenever I was near. . . .

By the time I’d finished my steaming shower, my arm was almost regenerated. Puny-looking, but healing. If only I could shore up mentally. I was nervous. In essence, this was my wedding night.

I’d braided and unbraided my hair, debating clothing choices. I’d settled on a royal-blue silk nightgown and robe.

Why was I so nervous about the prospect of sex with him? I was hitched to the man, for God’s sake, and I’d already done this once.

With Jack. In that moment of time. I’m all in, peek?n.

It seemed that as soon as I’d decided to sleep with Aric, my feelings for Jack had surged to the fore, memories of him invading my mind: Evangeline, I’ve got to feel you with my every step. Or I go a little crazy, me.

When I’d been sure I was dying, it had been Jack’s face I’d seen most clearly. Why? He was non-Arcana, I reminded myself. He’d lied to me in the worst possible way. These were obstacles that simply couldn’t be overcome—

The door burst open. I shot to my feet.

Eyes aglow, Aric stood in the doorway, seeming to take up the entire space. “I’ve waited”—his voice broke lower—“so long for you to be like this.” His accent was thicker than I’d ever heard it.

Then he was striding toward me. His mesmerizing gaze pinned me in place as he cupped my face. When his lips covered mine, I gasped. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, groaning into the contact. His hands tightened on my face. His sexy groans made my toes curl, muddling my thoughts.

Though he hadn’t undressed a woman in centuries, before I knew it all my clothes had melted off me, his shirt and boots vanishing as well. He broke the kiss to scoop me up, carrying me to bed.

Like Jack had. Don’t think of him.

Aric gazed down at me unclothed in his arms and hissed, “Great gods.” He laid me back on my bed, climbing in beside me. He still had on pants, but for some reason I wasn’t shy with him as he surveyed my every curve.

Probably because I’d felt naked in front of him for months.

His hunger was undisguised, yet when he dipped his head down to my body, he kissed . . . my healing arm. “My fierce Empress. I could not be prouder.” He bestowed a real smile on me, not a mocking sneer, not a grudging half-grin.

Glorious man.

His lips were flawlessly shaped, his teeth even and white. Though his eyes were starry, I could see their golden color. They were filled with warmth, with . . . love.

If he’d been gorgeous before, now he was devastating. My glyphs flared in response, drawing his gaze. “These used to fill me with confusion. I find them so beautiful, but whenever I saw them, you were usually about to strike.”

Jack had found them beautiful too.

Block that out! I was Aric’s wife. I’d wronged him in the past, had consigned him to misery for hundreds—no, thousands—of years. I needed to make this right. Like penance.

He rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip with a hand that had begun to shake. I got the sense that he was losing his polished control, his desire stoking hotter and hotter. “You could not be lovelier.” He looked like he was about to devour me, giving me both shivers—and chills. “I am a patient man, sievā, but tonight . . .”

There was something vaguely threatening about his words. Misgivings about this arose. Too fast.

Yet then he leaned down to kiss me, taking my mouth until my thoughts had blanked again. When he trailed his lips to my neck, flicking his tongue over my skin, his mouth was so hot, it was dizzying.

He’d always been polished and sophisticated. Now the raw force of his need staggered me. Between kisses, he murmured in Latvian.

“What are you saying?”

He drew back, curling his finger under my chin. “That you taste like life. You are my life now.”

His words felt so final. If he’d looked possessive in that far-distant past, now he looked as if he’d lost himself.

In me.

I was about to ask if we could take this more slowly, when he lowered his head to my breasts, kissing me there. The pleasure was so intense, I had difficulty recalling my misgivings, could only sigh his name.

When I arched my back for him, he groaned around one tip, then the other, pulling with his lips, flicking with his clever tongue.

Had penance ever felt so right?

Against my damp skin, he rasped, “Better than millennia of imaginings.” When I squirmed with need, he lifted his head. Eyes smoldering, he said, “I’ve imagined other things as well.”