Of Ash and Embers (The Mist King, #2)

by Jenna Wolfhart

“I thought you were dead,” he ground out, shuddering. “We went to the castle. The dungeons were empty. There was blood on the floor and fire everywhere. I thought you were dead.” His voice cracked on the last word. Something in my heart cracked right along with it.

He leaned in and whispered into my ear, “I can’t hate anything when it’s coming from your lips.”

I flushed. “Oberon could find us here.” “Good,” he said in a growl as his lips skimmed my neck. “I hope he does. And he will see that his claim on you means nothing. You are not his, and you never will be. Fuck his dragon mark.”

He pulled back, his thumb still pressed against my cheek. “You have consumed me. Everything about you drives me mad, and yet I would not change a thing. I want to give you the greatest pleasure you will ever know, fill you with so much rapture that you forget your own name.”

“I’m not religious, love, but I am going to worship your body, starting with the altar of your thighs.”