of Maidens & Swords by Melissa Marr

Author:Melissa Marr [Marr, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Melissa Marr

Several hours later, Leslie lifted her head from his chest and stared at him. “Are you okay?”

At some point in their lovemaking, Irial felt a tear slip from his face to hers, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t wept, but in the moment of union, he was overwhelmed.

“Mmm.” He pulled her down and kissed her, enjoying the sheer novelty of trusting a woman enough to have her on top of him.

She’d gotten far too able to read between his words, so his default with her was typically distraction. It was an excellent plan, if he did say so himself. Kissing Leslie was high on his list of favorite pastimes, alongside touching Leslie and making love with Leslie. Luckily for him, she didn’t seem to object.

When she pulled away for real finally, she kissed both of his cheeks and his forehead affectionately before straightening back to a seated position and saying, “I’m never sure if I should be offended that you think I’m that easy to sidetrack. It doesn’t work on Niall either, by the way.”

Irial shrugged as best he was able with her on top of him and offered her his most innocent look. “You’re the one who closed the door and attacked me.”

She pressed her lips together and narrowed her gaze. “That’s your summary of our day?”

“You made accusations, and we talked. Then you seduced me—after insisting I ought not meddle. So I was merely not meddling in your obvious plans to seduce me,” Irial continued with the closest approximation of innocence he could muster.

“You might be delusional.”

“I’ve been accused of far worse.” Absently, he traced the tattoo of his eyes and the wings that still graced her back. He could feel the inky tendrils that once bound them snaking out to answer his touch.

“It’s healing,” she said. “The tattoo is almost healed.”

“I know.”

“That’s why I feel you.” She leaned back so his hand was tighter against the tattoo. The smoky threads that had stretched out to meet his touch tightened like vines grabbing his hand. The sensation rocked through him, burning along pathways that she’d once yanked out in her—quite justified—anger and fear.

He shivered, the wash of emotions that he felt from Leslie catching him off guard and bringing his own tangled mess of emotions surging to the surface. “Steady, love.”

She didn’t listen, though. She reached back and held his hand to her skin. He could’ve jerked away, but . . . he also couldn’t. She could read his feelings as if he were a book open before her. He wouldn’t reject her and risk her turning away from him.

Once Irial and Niall had been gancanaghs, addictive to mortals. When Niall became Dark King and Irial became the embodiment of Discord, they were no longer addictive. Irial had wondered more than a few times over the past few years if fate had a sense of humor. Leslie could stay away from them, but they both craved her nearness the way junkies craved their drugs.

“You’re afraid,” Leslie murmured, her voice heavy with shock.

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