Free pdf - From the Ashes.PDF by Linda Eberharter Page B

pressure began, and he lowered his hands to her hips and surged upward. Her moan of pleasure rumbled in her throat and vibrated against his lips. He drank from her in slow languid pulls and savored the searing cinnamon of her vein.
    Cilia stilled as she settled more of her weight over him than before. Fiach’s eyes opened. Her face was pale but peaceful. He had taken too much, allowed himself to become drunk on her sweetness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her throat in between licks. The small wound sealed, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder.
    “Fiach…”
    “I was careless.”
    “Fiach!” she cried out.
    He pulled back to meet her eyes. They simmered with desire and impatience.
    “Please…” she whispered.
    He released his breath in a low rush as he stood, still buried inside of her, and pressed her back into the wall of the Lady’s chamber. He wound her legs around his waist and let her relax for a fraction of a second before he drove his crest to her womb.
    She clenched around him and writhed against the wall. Her nails bit into his shoulder and drew blood as he continued to pound himself into her weeping core.
    He heard sounds of pleasure over his shoulder and flicked a glance to the Lady, who cried out her release. His cock tingled, but her cries were not the ones he wanted. He cupped the cheeks of Cilia’s ass in his hands and ground into her. She gasped and bowed; her breath sounded ragged in his ear. He began to piston inside of her with hard fast strokes that had him gritting his teeth to keep from coming without her.
    Finally, her pelvic muscles began to contract and convulse around him. She drew him deeper and kept him there as she found her pleasure. Fiach managed one more thrust before his own orgasm claimed him. He throbbed and spurted inside her until he was replete; his climax erupted so greatly that moisture seeped from where they joined and dripped down onto the floor between them even though he stayed lodged in her sheath.
    “Oh, God.” Cilia collapsed on his chest. Fiach’s legs buckled, and he slid her gently down the wall as he went to his knees. The sharp burn of arousal that had plagued him finally subsided. The drug’s effects were all but gone. His body shone with sweat, but it was the product of their love play and not the feverish residue of the Fairy Dust that had coated his skin the past few days.
    The Lady rose and straightened her gown; her voice was a touch hoarse. “You may have the use of my chamber. Your Noce will commence at sundown.”
    “Can you send us back? When the time comes?” he asked.
    “You know how this magic works. We can bring you to Faerie at any time, from any point. Our magic cannot counteract that of the demons. The bars on your cage were enspelled. When you go back, you will go back to your cell.” She walked to the door.
    “Take all the time you need to devise a plan of action. Jarlath is not someone to cross lightly.” Then she stepped from the room and closed the door behind her.
    Fiach looked down at Cilia; she was slumped against him sleeping. He withdrew from her body and chuckled when he heard her sigh of protest, even though she remained unconscious. He carried her to the bed and nestled beside her. He stroked her hair and tweaked the feathered strands until he too succumbed to the dark lure of a healing sleep.

Chapter Eight
    “My Lord? My Lady?”
    Cilia stirred on the unfamiliar bed. Fiach draped over her; his weight pressed her into the mattress. She craned her neck around and saw Rois peering around the opened door to the chamber. In that moment, she was grateful that, even though her dress was twisted around her waist, it covered everything important. She was getting tired of putting herself on display. Fiach lay stripped down to his black leather pants.
    Rois cleared her throat and continued. “I am sorry to interrupt. I knocked, but you did not answer.”
    “It’s all right. We were sleeping pretty