Страница 36 из 162
“I thought there was a no alcohol rule?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. A teasing smile rose to my lips, though it was soft from the bliss heavy in my veins.
“There is. But I am the Halálhívó and the rules don’t apply to me.”
I scoffed and slipped off his lap. Typical.
Rokath went to one of the cases at the back of the room and returned with a cloth and a pitcher of water. “Sit, let me clean you.”
His tenderness melted my heart. So I did, only to remember that was exactly where he’d spilled his seed. A laugh burst from me. “Is that the first time you’ve come on your throne?”
“The first, though it will not be the last.” He crowded my back and reached around me to wipe it away. The heat emanating off of him was pure bliss. “Now that I know how much you like to scorn them. Devious little thing.”
He nudged me forward and I finally sat, allowing him to wipe my release from my sensitive center. When he finished, we dressed quickly. From that same case, he pulled a flask and tucked it into his pocket. Then he held his hand to me. “Come, and I will tell you everything.”
I threaded my fingers through his, savoring the rough callouses that brushed against my flesh. Everything with Rokath was…right. The darkness between us. The pain. The trauma. All of it was woven by the Fates, not to break us, but to bind us. So we could bleed, burn, and defend when the other needed it most.
All Rokath had to do now was surrender his hard-won throne and let me in.