Court of Claws (Blood of a Fae, #2)

by Briar Boleyn

“More effectively than burning my former lover up? I’d say I was pretty effective,” I snapped.

I looked away. A finger touched my chin.

And right now, you don’t even know how to wield them. That...” He paused. “That kills me.”

Draven might have won this round, but he had no idea I was determined to win the next one that very night.

He was a masterpiece sculpted from strength and grace.

“Claws, horns, cat-like reflexes, rapid healing. What else do you have that I don't know about?” He grinned wickedly and I blushed.

“And if I asked someone who wasn't a cleric?” “They might say one of my ancestors had fucked a cat.”

And if I could bring him some small measure of comfort from the burdens he bore, so be it. I fucking wanted to. I wanted him. I was done dancing around.

“I want this, I do. Please, believe me. And it will be good. Because... it’s us,” I said softly. And I knew it was true. Irrefutably true.

“You're mine,” he growled. “All mine.”

You aren’t afraid of being scorched?” I asked dubiously. He tilted his head. “I think I already am.”

“They’re not nearly as beautiful as you are, Morgan Pendragon,” he said quietly.

I know I don't deserve you. You've forgiven too much already. But I’m not strong enough to resist. You're my every weakness, my every temptation.

“I love to kill for you,”

“You're mine,” he growled, as he set his mouth to my neck. “You're mine, Morgan. Here, now, always.” He bit down. “You were fucking made for me. Do you understand?”

My body burned for this man. I couldn’t have my heart burning, too.

I had never been so happy. I had never been so afraid. Tomorrow it might all end.

Time stood still for a moment as I drank in the sight of the man who had become my entire world.

And of his refusal to offer the mirror its first choice. Me. It had wanted me.

You could have heard a pin drop. A horn fall. A blade clatter.

He was mine. I was his. We belonged to one another.

For down below, my heart was lost in the waters.

A companion shares the path, no matter where it leads and no matter how painful.

“Get the fuck away from my wife, Sephone.”

“Don't pretend you care, Morgan.”

“I’ve always known there would be a crown on your head, one way or another, Morgan.”

“No! I fucking wanted you. Just you. Alive. But by my side against your will? No, I didn’t fucking want that. Who would want that for anyone they loved?” Loved. He’d said loved.