When Summer meets Winter, things are bound to get steamy!
To put a stop to open war between Summer and Winter, Verte volunteers to marry one of Winter's princes. Trapped behind enemy lines, experimenting with new magic, she can't let this tenuous peace fail. She never thought love would enter into it.
Grey didn't volunteer for this. He isn't happy about it, but the closer he gets to Verte, the less he wants to let her go.
New from USA Today Bestselling Author Angelica Dawson, this trip into the colorful world of fae is sure to please.
Amazon Smart URL: http://hyperurl.co/WEAmz
#faeries #fae #BDSM #magic #ice #fire #romance #fated #mates
She sat on the floor in front of the fire, the stones growing warm at last. Grey sat on one of the black chairs. It creaked in a familiar way. Wood then.
“Did it hurt?” she asked. “In the Briar, when we—”
He stopped her. “It burned! I imagine I'm blistered.” He started to unfasten his pants. Part of her wanted to look away, to chide him, but she supposed she should become acquainted with him, all of him.
The spear that pierced her before was small and weak now. Also very pink. Her eyes widened. “Would you take off your shirt?” she asked. Was he pink under his clothes?
His colorless eyes narrowed. “You don't plan on attacking me, do you?”
She laughed. “With what? The heat of my touch?”
She continued to chuckle. “No, I am only curious what color your skin is, if you are like Summer men.
He nodded. “Only if you do the same.”
She licked her lips, not eager to remove the only piece of Summer she still had with her. Well, he wasn't asking to keep it, only to see beneath. She rose to her knees and began pulling it over her head. Rustling followed his clothing. His pants fell and they sat, looking at one another.
He was that odd grey over his whole body, silvery hair covering places, and yet, between his legs was pink. It did look burned, scalded, but not blistered as he'd claimed. She followed up his chest, the rest of his skin pearly. Color! She reached out, the Fire magic still in her fingers.
He hadn't been idle either. His fingers stretching toward one of her now exposed breasts. Glancing down she could see her greenish skin and rosy-brown nipple. She touched his knee and his hand brushed the skin above her nipple.
They each lurched back at the spark that shot from their fingertips. Verte licked her lips and looked at his knee where she brushed it and turned it pink.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
She looked down and noticed the darker, browner spot. “No. You?” she pointed to his knee.
“A little uncomfortable, but not pain, no.” He slid to his knees. “This seems so strange.”
She nodded. “I know. It hurt so much in the Briar, like you'd ripped me open and then slammed ice into me.”
“You burned me, see?” He palmed himself, showing the pink skin. She reached forward tentatively, meeting his eyes long before she touched him.
He nodded. “We should be able to touch one another,” he said.
“Definitely,” she agreed. Her fingers brushed past his and he gasped, his chin tipping up and hair falling back. She held still, waiting.
He moved his hand to touch her fingers and this time the shock was stronger, stinging up her arm and making it tingle.
“Imagine feeling that here,” he said, brushing her nipple.
She didn't have to imagine. Her spine straightened, her whole body undulating as the wave of sensation rolled over her.
Her eyes opened again on Grey. “I don't know that you should do that.”
He smiled. “No? It didn't feel good?” he asked, inching closer.
“N-no,” she lied.
“It didn't make your heart race?” he asked, his hand on the stone outside her thigh. The inside of his wrist was so close. He leaned slightly and it touched. They both gasped and the fire flared behind Verte.
“I don't think...I can handle that,” she admitted. She hated weakness in herself. Always, she'd been strong, dependable, true. Here she lied, she was weak, she trembled.
“I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed. He didn't touch her again, but lifted his fingers to her cheek.
About the author:
Angelica Dawson, USA Today best selling Naughty Nights Press author, has been writing for several years and having sex a lot longer than that. Angelica is a wife, mother and environmental consultant. Her love of plants and the outdoors is not diminished by the bloodsucking hoards -- mosquitoes and black flies, not vampires.