The Winter King (18 page)

When his kisses reached her hip bone, and
his hands encircled her thighs, gripping hard to press them further
apart, she realized with shock what he planned to do. At once, self
consciousness warred with her desire, and she tried to rise. But
Kristopher must have known she would do this, because he expertly
used his grip on her legs to yank her back down again, and she hit
the bed on her back. At once, his arm slid over her torso, his hand
splayed across her chest between her breasts, holding her down.

Poppy’s breaths came hard and fast, and she
tried to close her legs. But he was having none of it. With ease,
he kept her parted and open before him, laid bare just as he’d said
he would do, and Poppy inhaled a cry of surprise as he bent his
head, and that hot, hot breath of his brushed across her slick,
flushed nether lips.

She made an indistinguishable sound as she
clutched at the blankets beneath her, grasping them hard in her
fists when Kris leaned further in, and his tongue followed his
breath. Another helpless cry escaped her when that tongue slowly
licked the length of her opening, then flicked teasingly against
the flushed-hard button of her clitoris.

She twisted, flailing uncontrollably, but to
no avail. He licked her again, and Poppy saw stars beneath her
closed lids. Then the hardness of his tongue parted those red,
swollen lips and dipped inside, and Poppy’s eyes flew wide open.
She saw the stars beyond that clear domed ceiling and noticed
something like green or purple ribbons, but the world was beyond
recognition. All she was consciously aware of was the sensations
she was experiencing beneath the king’s merciless
manipulations.

He used his tongue, spreading her lips apart
to drink of her with earnest, until Poppy could contain herself no
longer. “Please!” she screamed. “Oh gods, Kristopher, please!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I’m going to make you beg
me to stop…
his words echoed in her mind
when Kristopher slowly pulled away, laughing that damnable,
delicious laugh of his as he rose above her once more, crawling
over her as if he were some sort of primordial predator – and she
his fresh kill
.

…
and then I’m going to
fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.

The remainder of his promise rang out like a
warning bell as those eyes of his burned blue like the hottest
fires, and his muscles rippled like the sinewy structure of an
oversized cat. Her hands at once found his shoulders, replete with
their red claw marks where she’d gripped him earlier. He was
immovable, unnoticing of the pain when she settled her grip over
them once more, and pressed against him in subconscious defense.
Her heart was hammering, her chest rose and fell in quick
succession, and she knew she hadn’t a hope in hell of stopping
him.

And she had never been more happy about
something than she was about that.

Their eyes met, their gazes locked, and an
entire split second passed between them before he once more claimed
her lips with his, and that heat that promised to overwhelm her and
burn her alive poured over her, radiating off him like a
sunburst.

She cried out against his lips as a second
heated hardness pressed against her already teased opening, but the
size of it forced her into a stretch that threatened to tear her
apart. Despite the resistance, he pushed into her a slow and steady
inch by inch that pulled a low, tortured moan from deep within her
throat. She sank her teeth into his shoulder, her fingers curling
into claws as he claimed her with slow, relentless purpose until he
could go no further, and she’d never imagined she could feel so
full.

Her body quaked, her nerve endings crackling
as the warlock magic inside her awakened at the teasing sensations.
She felt it glowing around her, releasing uncontrollably as
Kristopher pulled back again, stretching her with an even greater
mercilessness just before he deepened his kiss – and sank back into
her, bottoming out and drawing from her another cry. He ate the
sound, as he had her others, smothering her screams beneath the
hunger of his kiss.

Poppy’s head seemed to swim, and her mind
reeled, and her universe spun into ribbons like the sky above as he
repeated his torment, easing out and then shoving back in, his
speed increasing with her yearning for more. Little by little, she
edged up that mountain, and then the cliff’s edge was in view, and
her body was sparkling with the need for release. Small gasps and
moans escaped her throat over and over and were swallowed up by
Kristopher as his strong form rode deeper and faster, and ecstasy
drew her into its universe like an unavoidable magnet.

He broke their kiss, and suddenly the sounds
of their harsh breathing filled the room.

“
I love the noises you
make,” he told her, just as he had before. “I love the way you
fight,” he added. And then he nibbled her bottom lip and drove in
deep once more as he said, “And I fucking love the way you feel
wrapped tight as hell around me, Poppy Nix. I’m going to make sure
it happens all the goddamn time.”

The world fractured then, breaking into
puzzle pieces that spread out and split up, dozens becoming
hundreds, hundreds becoming thousands as he drove in again and
again, and that climb of madness inside her lifted her higher and
higher and higher – and then life exploded and she was finally
thrown over the edge.

She screamed, arching her back to lift
herself off the bed, pressing hard against the king as he came
inside her and she entered that other blissful dimension and
catapulted through space. He matched her call with an animalistic
cry that flooded her bloodstream with orgasm-strengthening
adrenaline, and white spots erupted before her eyes.

She floated there in that state of painful
bliss, utterly and completely free of earth’s bonds, for several
perfect moments before she finally rode the waves very slowly back
down to Earth.

From that bed in that room on that planet,
Poppy looked over her lover’s shoulder and watched the sky move.
The night glittered beyond the glass dome. Those ribbons of green
and purple remained. As if they were notes played on some celestial
violin, they floated, music-like and beautiful, filling the already
brilliant sky with impossible spectral beauty. Galaxies and
supernovas splayed out before her, pink and orange and shaped like
horse’s heads and crabs. She felt like she were close enough to
touch them; she’d never seen anything like it in her life.

“
It’s something to see,
isn’t it?” the king whispered softly in her ear. He was still
inside her, and he had yet to grow completely soft. She was sated
and floating, filled with endorphins galore. Her entire body
tingled. Everything felt
right
just then.

Slowly and tenderly, he pulled away, then
moved gracefully off of her to lay beside her. His strong arm
encircled her, warm and possessive as his gaze followed hers into
the heavens.

“
Is this your room?” she
asked softly. Her voice was a touch hoarse from love
making.

“
This is
our
room,” he gently
corrected. She glanced sidelong at his profile. His eyes were no
longer glowing. Instead, the aurora borealis reflected in their
blue, giving them new dimension.

“
Okay,” she
said.

He was still beside her, and at first Poppy
wondered if she hadn’t been clear enough in the meaning of what
she’d just said. But though it took him a moment to understand,
when he did, he instantly looked back down at her. “Okay?” he
asked, his eyes wide. “You mean – ”

But she nodded, and her
lips broke into a smile. “Yes.” She grinned. “I
mean
.”

Kristopher remained frozen a heartbeat more.
Then his smile matched her own, and he leaned in, claiming her lips
in another kiss. The warmth of him was dichotomous with the taste
of him like fresh fallen snow, and it was wonderful. The kiss
seemed to go on forever, the Cosmos spinning and unfolding above
them.

When he finally lifted away, she was
breathless again. The tingling in her body had gone from pleasant
and sated to hungry, her nipples were hard, and her legs were bent
in need.

Kristopher smiled, and this time there was
nothing friendly about it. “Let me see if I can take care of that,”
he said in a low, predatory drawl. Then he was sliding over her,
and his hardness was pressing into her, and Poppy’s mind was once
more lost to the desires of her body.

A good while later, she lay partially atop
the Winter King, her hands resting on his chest, her ear pressed to
his heart, and the master bed had been completely and wonderfully
trashed. Kristopher languidly ran his fingers through her long,
thick hair, and his chest rose and fell in slow satisfaction. “You
know,” he said lazily, “If you’re actually going to become queen,
we’ll need to eventually get you out of this bed and onto your
throne.”

Poppy thought about that, and something
occurred to her. “Do you think it’s still in one piece?” She
pictured the throne room and its seats of ice. It all seemed rather
fragile.

He hesitated a moment, then rose up on one
elbow. She lifted off him as they both sat up. “Only one way to
find out,” he replied.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,”
she said for the second time that night.

Kristopher pulled the furs off them both,
and Poppy stared down at herself in wonder as her clothes magically
reappeared over her body layer by layer. He even got the scarf
right – her favorite scarf, long and crazily colored, like a
signature piece.

His clothing did the same, and since he was
climbing out of bed at the same time, she realized he was doing it
without even concentrating. He was quite powerful, even after
having one of Yggdrasil’s roots severed.

Would
she
be like that once she took the
throne? She imagined herself using warlock magic without having to
speak or move in order to cast spells – without even having to give
it much thought! Was it possible? Was she –

She blanched suddenly as Kristopher strode
across his massive chamber, and she couldn’t help but notice how
well he fit in with his surroundings. He strode tall and strong,
smooth and confident. He owned them. Like a true king.

What was she in comparison? Would Winter…
what if Winter didn’t find her as deserving?

She swallowed past a tightening throat.
Kristopher stopped at his door and turned back. His brow furrowed
and his head cocked to the side. “Are you okay?” he asked
softly.

“
Yeah,” she replied
quickly. “Sorry. I just… hadn’t had a chance to look around yet.”
She hurriedly joined him at the door, pretending to take in her
surroundings as she went. Really, she’d gotten a good look while
lounging in his bed. The room was definitely amazing – just as
otherworldly and impossibly beautiful as the rest of Winter’s
palace of ice. Not the least amazing of which was the bed itself, a
massive construct of intricately carved ice, right down to the four
ice carved posters and the thin, gauzy impossibly woven ice
curtains draped over the ice bars overhead. But if she gave too
much thought to how amazing his bed was right now, she and the king
would just wind up right back in it.

She made it to the door, smiled sheepishly,
and his gaze narrowed. “Mmm-hmm,” he said disbelievingly. To which
she simply pushed past him into the hall beyond.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kristopher watched her
brush past him, fighting the urge to reach out and stop her.
Something was suddenly bothering her, and that was
not
the feeling he
wanted to leave her with after taking her to bed.

But he really wanted to get her on that
throne.

Once she did, she would be
queen, and she would have the power that came with it. Power enough
to stop anything the Entity might be planning to do to her. It was
clear the monster was willing to go to extremes to stop the kings
from finding their queens. He wanted to stop them from…
something
. Hell, that
was just it. Kristopher didn’t know
what
the Entity wanted. No one
did.

I need to check
in
, he thought as he followed her down a
long hallway. It had been a while since he’d looked in to see if
there’d been any news on the Entity and his little rat, the traitor
king who sat amongst them at the table of the Thirteen. Plus, he
should probably let them know about the attack on Yggdrasil and the
Entity’s likely involvement.

Unlike the other supernatural realms, the
Winter Kingdom was ironically both a permanent part of the mortal
world – just like Winter was a part of the mortal world – and
permanently cut off from it. His kingdom was more powerful in this
sense, as things like time and space moved differently here. But it
was also more remote, because when spring, summer, and fall visited
the mortal realm, Winter was not welcome. It needed a place to
escape to, or it would wither and die.

Without his permission, no
one could make it into the Winter Kingdom to contact him if
something went down, and tiny reliable messengers such as Pi the
fire elemental, were not
elementally
welcome in places such
as this. Pi wouldn’t last long. Seconds, perhaps, and that was
about all. So, Kristopher was all but cut off from his sovereign
brethren until he re-entered the mortal realm.

Kristopher’s thoughts of the Entity and the
other kings took a back seat when he noticed that Poppy was moving
slowly through the castle, but this time not with fear or
hesitation. This time, she walked in wonder, her head moving side
to side, her eyes wide.