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"I am not the hero," Asterion said, drawing me back to them. "I was created out of punishment, born out of spite, and raised to terrorize."
"I will devote my life to protecting you. I will be your knight, your shield. I will stand between any danger and you, make any sacrifice," he said slowly, low and heavy and solemn. "But I see the way Conall looks at you. The way the Kings of Clouds and Dreams dote on you. I won't be lesser, not with you, Evanthia."
"I leave a room you enter because every time I am near you, I'm at the mercy of your scent, your gaze, the potential of your touch. I have memorized your features, and I dream of them."
Hot damn
"I know every piece of you as well as I know myself now. You are mine. Your scent tells me so. Your touch," Asterion murmured, barely audible, teasing me closer, higher, my chest brushing to his with every heaving breath.
It can't be one or the other. It has to be them all, I thought, then realized what the words meant and found myself blushing.
This wasn't sex for relief, wasn't wild abandon; it was adulation and devotion, and I couldn't tell them to stop, couldn't beg them for more, either.
"I think it is also… To have something so precious, so perfect, so much a part of yourself…it changes you. It makes everything else in the world…less. And I think that's dangerous. If not to you or to your mate, but to the rest of the world."
"Oh no, mo chroí, you are infinitely more valuable than any thing in this world," Conall murmured.
Oh Connal... That spunds like a mate talking
"These absurd…" I made a choked sound of struggle as I fought for the word. "Machinations! Marking me, leaving me, dancing around one another and not simply telling me what-what—Argh!
"Oh, swinging about blades for fun, yes, of course, no one was ever injured by the edge of a sword,"
"I've always liked divinities, you know," the fae woman purred at me. My eyes narrowed. "I wonder if dragon ever eat fae
