Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Here.” He rolls to his back, taking me along for the ride, settling me over him. “Show me how eager you are.”
With his hands firmly gripping my waist, I ease down, moaning at the delicious stretch and fullness. A firm nudge in just the right spot pulls another moan from me. My body clenches around him.
More sparks of friction heighten every movement. “Dec…oh my God.”
He lets out a low, rumbling laugh. “Hit something good?”
“Oh my God, yes.” I move faster, chasing the extra sensations. Those small pieces of metal like tiny lightning bolts, electrifying every thrust and slide.
Pressure builds fast, amplified by the curse’s hum vibrating through both of us. The mark on my arm flares, blinding enough for green light to pulse behind my eyelids. He grips my waist tighter, thrusting up when I angle my hips down. Every movement drags another moan from my throat.
I curl my hands around his forearms, hanging on, using him for leverage to move faster.
My world fractures—snapshots burst through the dark.
A flash of metal.
A horse, black and gleaming, pounding over wet grass.
Rain on marble.
A woman in black.
A door closing.
The bronze statue weeping green.
Each image pulses like a heartbeat—too fast to hold onto and too complicated to make sense of. Declan’s voice fades. His bedroom dissolves. My whole existence narrowing to the rhythm between us and the storm of images crashing through my head.
Euphoria like I’ve never felt slams into me. My body tightens, back bowing.
“Emery, you feel—” His voice twists into a groan, shattering the montage of images in my head.
My eyes snap open. For a moment, I’m disoriented. Sweat slicks our skin. His jaw’s clenched tight, eyes locked on mine. Raw vulnerability cracks through his gruff exterior as he parts his lips.
The mark on my arm climbs higher, twisting toward my shoulder. I blink but it remains. I can’t care. Not now. Not with him buried deep, every movement sending sparks that curl my toes.
I cry out as wave after wave pulses through me. Is it the piercings prolonging my orgasm, the curse, or Declan himself? Who cares.
A few seconds later, a guttural groan tears from his throat. He thrusts up hard, the force knocking me forward. I slap my palms against the iron and wood headboard to catch myself and keep moving my hips, drawing out his pleasure too.
“Emery.” He squeezes my backside, my hips, and then slowly lifts me off him.
I fall to the side, and he curls his arm around me, holding me close.
“I need a moment.” He blows out a long, satisfied breath and pats my behind. “Almost blew the top of my skull off trying not to come until you finished.” He laughs, the movement transforming his face into someone lighter and carefree.
My legs quiver and my heart won’t stop pounding. I rest my cheek on his sweaty chest, his heart thumping beneath me. The fire pops and crackles, its warmth filling the room.
A dull throb spreads through my arm and shoulder. I lift my wrist and catch new streaks of green twisting higher toward my collarbone.
Another flash—
the hill,
closed door,
rain on marble.
Gone again, too quick to make sense of, but the afterimage hooks into me like claws. They’re not random images, are they? They felt more like memories or a warning. Maybe both?
Declan squeezes my side, his touch bringing me back to myself. “You all right?”
I shove my arm under the sheet and tilt my head back, forcing a smile. “I’m fantastic.”
Best sex ever.
Thankfully, I keep that last part to myself. It’s too soon to say something so embarrassing.
But that’s not the only reason.
I curl closer to him, pretending it’s afterglow stealing my words.
The mark on my arm moved closer to my heart. Just like he warned me it might. The curse is moving. But did it also try to show me something? If I don’t figure out what it means, embarrassing myself will be the least of my concerns.
Tomorrow, I need to return to the cemetery. Alone. I need to see the Widow. The flashes hint that the answer lies with her, not the Rider.
Satisfied I have a plan, I snuggle closer to Declan. He might be the best sex of my life, but if I don’t figure out how to help him break this curse, he might be my last.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Declan
The weight of guilt that should be pressing down on me is absent.
Not the right kind of guilt, anyway.
I shouldn’t have brought Emery deeper into my world. Not when I know what the curse does to anyone who gets too close. I should be more worried about the mark climbing her arm.
Instead, all I can focus on is how warm she feels curled against my side.
How soft and sleepy she is, trusting me to keep her safe.
How fast I’m falling for a woman I shouldn’t have touched.