Page 86 of Shackled By Shadows

He doesn’t answer, but I can feel the tension in his body starting to ease, even just a little. Maybe it isn’t much, but it is something.

And for now, that is enough.

After a long while of sitting in silence, Oberon shifts beside me, his body still tense but his presence now familiar. Then, without warning, he turns to me, his lips curling slightly in the kind of smile I haven’t seen in far too long, a smile full of dark amusement, like he has a secret he isn’t quite ready to share. "I promised you something before I left," he says, shifting the conversation, his voice thick with an emotion I can’t place, but laced with something teasing, something that feels almost . . . wicked.

My heart skips a beat, not out of uncertainty, but out of that familiar thrill I always feel when he speaks like that. A promise, one I have been waiting for, even if I don’t know exactly what it is. His eyes carry a hint of something dangerous yet playful, and I can’t help but lean forward a bit, anticipation rising. “What promise?” I ask, eager for the answer.

His smile widens just a fraction, and there is a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes as he stands up, extending his hand toward me. “Come with me, and I'll show you.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I take his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch, a comfort after everything we have been through. The weight of his words still lingers between us, but there is something lighter now.

We move together toward our room, the silence between us now rich with the tension of unspoken things, of promises I didn’t fully understand until this moment. When the door clicks shut behind us, the world outside seems to disappear.

I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips. “You’re still teasing me with this promise, aren’t you?” I ask, stepping closer to him, my body responding to the sudden change in the air.

He meets my gaze, his smile darkening, as if he enjoys the way I respond to him. “I did say I had something planned for my return,” he says, his tone low, the dark amusement still evident.

I feel the heat rush to my face, but I don’t back away. Instead, I step closer, heart pounding in my chest, every fiber of my being drawn to him. “Well, let’s see you make good on it then,” I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation.

Without another word, his hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss that is all heat and hunger. His lips are firm, demanding, but there is something gentle underneath an unspoken promise that he will never let me go. Not now. Not again.

He lifts me off the floor, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he finds a wall. My back presses against it, the cool stone contrasting with the heat of our bodies. The kiss deepens, driven by pure need and primal instinct.

I part my lips, urging him deeper.

He answers, exploring the inside of my mouth with a hunger that matches my own. He sucks my tongue into his mouth, offering the same in return. Our movements are a clash of teeth and passion, raw and unrelenting. I can feel him, hard and ready, pressed against me, and the sensation sends a shiver of anticipation through my body.

I want to rip the clothes from both of us, to feel his skin against mine.

I need him everywhere.

He must read my thoughts because, in an instant, my feet find the floor again. He kneels before me, unstrapping my shoes and tossing them across the room before moving on to my pants, pulling them down with a sense of urgency.

I tear my shirt off as he kicks his own shoes away, and I fight with his shirt as he hurries to unfasten his pants. It is rushed and intense, and in mere moments, we are both bare. Exactly how I want us to be.

He lifts me again, moving to the table. My bare skin hits the hard surface as his fingers find my slick fold, wet and ready for him.

He lets out a low growl of satisfaction and starts thrusting his hands with a rhythm that sends waves of ecstasy over me. I arch my back and gasp at the pleasure, rolling my hips in sync.

He halts, a deliberate pause before grabbing a chair and pulling it up to the table. I sit up on my elbow, the sudden distance between us catching me off guard.

A surge of disappointment twists in my chest, but I refuse to let it show. “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with curiosity and a hint of frustration.

He gives me that wicked smile, the one that always makes my heart skip. “Feasting,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He settles into the chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Before I can react, before I can even process the sudden emptiness between us, he pulls me closer until I hang slightly over the edge, and his lips are on me again, his tongue swirling and teasing in all the right places. I gasp for breath and can’t control the sounds that escape.

Every fiber in my body screams for more, for him, all of him, right now.

My fingers tangle in his hair as he dines with an intensity, a hunger, that leaves me breathless. I can’t contain the wave of pleasure that crashes over me, the orgasm rolling through my body like a wildfire. “Oberon . . .” I whisper, breathlessly repeating his name like it is the only word I know.

He stands, pulling me toward him, his hands firm as he drags me across the table. His mouth finds mine again, deep and commanding, before he pulls back, his lips brushing against my ear. “I love the way you taste,” he purrs, the sound of it sending a shiver straight through me. “Fucking delicious.”

I reach down, my hand finding him.

As I start stroking, he tilts his head back, a deep, throaty groan escaping his lips. “Fuck . . .”

I slide off the table, dropping to my knees, catching his attention for just a moment. “My turn,” I murmur, a wicked grin curling on my lips.