Mists of Velvet

enter and withdraw, he heard each gasp she made with his measured strokes.
    Bronwnn placed her free hand, palm up, against Rhys’, and they stayed like that, palm to palm, bound hand to bound hand, for long seconds before he entwined his fingers through hers and brought their joined hands back behind her head as he thrust deeply into her, claiming her fully.

    Bronwnn had never known this euphoria before—this oneness of mind, body, and spirit. As they looked into each other’s eyes, as his hand gripped hers tightly and his body slid along hers, Bronwnn knew she would never, ever feel this connection with anyone else.
    “Don’t close your eyes. I want you looking into mine as you come,” he rasped.
    And then he stabbed her deeply, and she fought to keep her eyes open as she trembled beneath him. She was shaking and shattering in his arms, and he thrust up into her once more, his fingers pressing against her.
    “Take me,” he said, thrusting up hard against her. “Claim me.”
    She did. Lifting her hips to meet his, she thrust back, joining with him. With her teeth, she nipped at his throat, and he groaned, pouring his seed deep inside her.
    “ Mo bandia ,” he breathed against her. The binding had come loose around their hands and slipped to the ground, allowing Rhys to pull her into his arms. They were still covered by the shroud, and Bronwnn thought it the most intimate, beautiful moment she would ever experience.
    “My mortal,” she whispered back. She felt him, so deep inside her, swimming in her blood.
    “I can feel you,” he said, his heart beating heavy against her breasts. “Inside me. I can hear your heart. Your breath—your desire.”
    He lifted himself off her and gazed down upon her naked body. “I can hear your body crying for more.”
    “I am the goddess of sexuality. Insatiable, you called me.”
    “I did.” With a heated look, he tore the shroud from them, exposing their nakedness to the trees and the moon and the sky above. Lifting her up, he cupped her bottom and helped her to wrap her legs around his waist.
    “Now, I’ll have you as a Sidhe takes his mate.”
    Gooseflesh erupted along her skin at the possessiveness in his voice. His entry was swift and hard, and she felt him deeper inside her than ever before.
    “Mine,” he said as she took a handful of her hair and brushed it back over her shoulder so he could see her face as he thrust up into her again. “And you were worth fighting for.”
    She smiled, opened her arms, and wrapped them around him, allowing him to set the pace, to love her beneath the moon and stars and the velvet mists of Annwyn.

EPILOGUE

    From the window, Keir watched the Shrouding. He should not be here, sucking the emotions from Rhys. But he was weak, and lonely. He needed her—Rowan.
    He watched as Rhys tore the shroud from Bronwnn’s body. He saw the way he lifted her up and sank her down onto his cock.
    He had never taken Rowan that way, but his body ached to do so.
    Closing his eyes, he imagined it, the feel of her body sliding down on his. He imagined what her breasts would look like; how they would sway as he took her hard.
    He thought of the satin, covered in her blood. He thought of the black square that held their mixed sexual essences and of the night he had made love to her and claimed her as his mate.
    His body cried for her, and so, too, did his soul. There was a way, he believed—a way to find her once again.
    And then, he turned from the window, unable to watch Rhys with his mate any longer. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light. A butterfly, with white wings edged in blue, fluttered before him; he reached for it, letting it still on his finger.
    Yes. There was a way. Magick had two sides. And if one side would not accept his request, then perhaps the other would.
    Cliodna, his little wren, flew to him, singing sadly in his ear. She felt his sorrow, and he petted her wings as she settled on his shoulder.
    Tonight, he would open that box. He would set the white strip on his thighs and divine his mate back to him. And he would use any means necessary.

Books by Sophie Renwick
    Mists of Velvet

    Velvet Haven

    Hot in Here