The King is dead in the Dragonhall, and now the heirs gather for the Ascension. Marc Fitz Edward is more than just the family black sheep; he’s a necromancer from beyond the protective Veil. The townspeople think he’s evil, the high priest wants him ambushed, and his cousin, the prince, has an even more merciless scheme. Marc’s only protection is his dark magic, and Judith, a sworn knight of the realm. But in the end, will Judith forswear her oath to save Marc, or will she let him die to preserve her kingdom?
The silence of the room suddenly seemed thicker. His thumb moved to her full lip and softly slid across the pink flesh. He didn’t dare breathe. She was so beautiful. Her dark hair, half loose, curled around her face and neck. Her breasts heaved with each breath beneath the soft silk of her dress. He could see the darker nipples pressing up against the fabric.
Her summer-painted eyes lit her pale, marble-smooth face. He wanted to see them glowing with happiness. He longed to melt that deep reserve and watch her smile.
With slight trepidation, he took her into his arms. Her lithe, strong body softened against his. Her breasts were firm and yet soft, touching his chest, her breath sweet in his mouth as she leaned up to be kissed.
Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. His fingers tightened on her arms. Nothing in his life had ever felt so right as kissing her. Her pliant lips parted as passion roared up inside of him.
His tongue pressed in, and he licked her teeth, plunged into the warm, soft interior of her mouth. The moment stretched out. He didn’t push further and yet didn’t pull back. Still, his loins flooded with fierce need.
She moaned against his mouth, and need overtook his caution. He tasted her deeply. She eagerly met him movement for movement until they both had to part for breath.
“Wait!” she gasped.
“I’m sorry,” he said while his erection strained against his clothing. “I’m sorry.” What a lie! He wasn’t a bit sorry. He wanted to savor her again and again. No one had inspired him so.
“Don’t be sorry.” She gave him one of her fierce frowns. “I just want to remove my sword.” She unfastened her belt and set the heavy weapon on the floor.
He laughed. “Now that is one I haven’t heard before.”
Her hands gripped his robe and tugged him closer. “Where were we?” She kissed him with more passion than he had thought possible. His blood pulsed hot in his veins, his manhood strained.
