The Rising Read online Kristen Ashley (The Rising #4)

Categories Genre: Dragons, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Rising Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 162269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
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But watching her crawl to him did.

He moved directly to the bed and stood before her as she again sat back to her arse and reached out to him with both hands, wrapping her fingers at the skin of his waist.

“You do know, this is why I was brought to you,” she said softly.

He shook his head and said, not softly, “I know no such thing.”

Her lips parted.

That, he also felt.

But he ignored it and carried on speaking.

“Why you were brought to me was to show me your love and allow me to give you mine. It was to open my eyes to the true understanding of what being the Sea King meant and delivering me to the place I would do something about it. It was to mitigate my temper so I would be a more patient ruler. It was to make children with me. It was to reign at my side. It was to leave Mar-el to our son stronger, showing him the way for any future is to be brave enough to make righteous change. It was so that we could argue and reconcile, debate and decide, make each other laugh and make each other climax.”

He took her head in both hands, bent to her and finished.

“I refuse to believe the Beast had anything to do with us finding each other, Ha-Lah. What I believe is that you were destined to be mine and I was destined to be yours and that is the beginning and the end of it.”

Her crystal eyes warm on him, she pushed up to her knees, skating her hands up his bare chest as she did so, and curling her fingers around his shoulder in the end.

“A love like that can defeat all evil,” she whispered.

He wished he had that same conviction.

“You must trust in that, my darling,” she pushed, one hand disengaging from his shoulder to glide down his chest. “And you must admit, there is a lot to trust in.”

He definitely could admit that.

Though in the now, he did not for he made an unintelligible noise when she pressed her hand into his sleep pants and found his cock.

“Wife,” he grunted.

“Trust in us. Trust in our friends,” she urged, her fingers tightening, and he automatically thrust in her hand. “Trust in love.”

“I trust in your love,” he muttered.

Her eyes smiled. “That will work.”

Then her body dropped, she released his shaft, pulled his sleep pants down and treated him to the vision of her beauty on her knees at the edge of the bed, working his cock with her mouth.

When her fingernails dug into his arse, he took her cue and thrust gently into her moist suckling, groaning when she began to suckle harder.

He was about to drop his head back and close his eyes to concentrate on it fully, when her gaze shifted up to his.

At what he saw, at what he had never seen before, but it was right there before him in that moment—the blue crystal of her gaze turning to the blue and white crash of the waves of the sea—Aramus suddenly withdrew.

He ignored Ha-Lah emitting a sound of protest at the loss of him as he took her under the arms, dragged her up the bed, then put a knee to the mattress that he’d hauled her into.

He came down atop her, disposed of her panties with a violent tug along with a ripping noise, and then he buried himself inside his queen.

“Darling,” she breathed, wrapping her legs about his arse.

“Yes,” he grunted, driving fast and deep into her tight wet.

“Aramus,” she said urgently, lifting her hips to receive more from his thrusts.

He put his lips to hers, stared into the seas of her eyes, and rumbled, “Yes, baby.”

“You…your…by Medusa, darling, your…” She clasped his head in both hands as his balls got tight, he lifted her hips even further to take his thrusts, and right before they both came, she cried…

“Eyes.”

King True

Guest Bedchamber, Sky Citadel, Sky Bay

AIREN

“Caro,” Farah said soothingly.

“I suppose it wouldn’t matter if I said I didn’t like it,” he replied.

He was sitting at the end of the bed.

She was sitting with her legs curved under her on the rugs on floor before him, her thick, dark hair down about her shoulders, the silk of a rose-red nightgown peeking from the opening of her pine-green velvet dressing gown.

And she had just told him that she would need to attend a ritual with the other women, her Sisters of the Beast, to draw in more power.

Power she not only did not yet fully know how to wield, apparently, it wasn’t the most sterling idea for her to hold that much at all.

“I know not what to say to make you feel better,” she murmured miserably.

“And this is the crux of the matter,” he replied gently. “Our lives are not our own.”


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