I stared at the wisteria trees as his finger moved, slowly in and out, never going too deep. My hips chased those shallow plunges. Heat flowed through my veins, easing the knot of coldness that pulsed near the essence. Maybe he was right. When I summoned the mist, my will had not been to cause harm. Nor had it been when the wave of rage left me.
But was that true when it came to the explosion of rage?
I hadn’t really been thinking at all. I’d just been furious. Had I gotten lucky then?
“You understand that, right?” Casteel’s breath was hot against my neck. “Your will, as you said, is yours.”
My heart beat faster as his finger thrust deeper, and the pastel hues of the wisteria trees turned darker.
“Your will is not controlled by a prophecy,” he continued, the sharp edge of his fangs grazing my throat and sending my pulse skittering. “Your will is not controlled by a Queen or anyone else but you.” He worked another finger in, and my knees stiffened as I rose onto the tips of my toes. “You are not a harbinger of death and destruction, Poppy. You’re a harbinger of change and new beginnings. Tell me you believe that.”
“Yes,” I panted. “I do.”
Casteel’s head tilted, and the pierce of his fangs in the wound he’d created before stunned me. My muscles tightened, and my thighs clamped around his hand as the fiery sting traveled through me, quickly followed by a roar of acute pleasure as his mouth closed over the reopened marks, and he drank.
Shuddering, my eyes fell shut as he drank from me—took my blood and took me with his fingers, as that insidious voice in the back of my mind scolded me. I wanted so badly to tell him that I believed what he’d said as strongly as both he and Kieran did. So, that was what I’d done. I’d lied. I lied to him, and I didn’t like it. Didn’t like how it made me feel. And I didn’t like that I’d made Kieran promise what he could never share with Casteel. But his touch—those fingers and his mouth—chased away more than the coldness. It crowded out the guilt as I rode Cas’s fingers, rocking against his palm and the hardness pressing against my lower back. With my senses open, the smoky flavor of his lust and the sweetness of his love drove me to a rippling, sudden release that he wisely silenced with his hand.
I was still trembling when his fingers eased from me, and he took one last, dragging pull from my throat. His arm loosened at my waist as he lifted his hand. I turned halfway, halting when heated, golden eyes met mine. My breath caught as his blood-tinged lips closed over his slick fingers.
“I don’t know which part of you tastes better,” he murmured.
My body flushed hot. “You are…you are so very bad.”
He grinned down at me but it was lost in a stark pulse of need as I reached for his breeches. He said nothing, simply watched me intently as I undid the flap, tugging the breeches down his lean hips. His body jerked as I curled my fingers around his cock, and he groaned as I went to my knees.
“Who’s the bad one?” he asked, his voice thick and wonderfully rough.
“You.” I drew my hand up his length. “And you’re a bad influence.”
His hand curled around the back of my head as he drew me in until my lips brushed his tip. “I’ve told you before, Poppy. Only the bad can be influenced.”
I grinned up at him, enjoying these stolen moments where nothing existed but us. “I read something in Willa’s journal.”
“I bet you read all kinds of things in her journal,” he replied, fingers tangling in my hair. “But what are you thinking of now?”
“She wrote that the vein…this vein—” I said, dragging my thumb across it. He groaned. “Can be extraordinarily sensitive. Is that true?”
“Can be.” His chest rose sharply.
“She also claimed that it was even more sensitive to the tongue,” I said, my face warming.
“Why don’t you assuage that curiosity of yours and find out?” He paused. “For research purposes.”
I laughed and then found out as I dragged my tongue along that thick vein. Willa had been correct. It was a sensitive spot. Liquid had already begun beading on the head of his cock when I closed my mouth over him. I drew him in as deeply as I could and didn’t worry about what I was doing because I knew he loved it. The way his hand tightened on the back of my head told me that. As did the thrusts of his hips and the spicy taste that joined the earthy flavor of his skin.
“You know, I think…” He shuddered as he gathered the strands of my hair away from my face with his other hand. “I think you really like my cock in your mouth,” he said, and I sucked harder. He groaned. “I also think you like it when I say inappropriate things like that.”