The Stoneheart Bride – The Dead Lands Read Online Kati Wilde

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Novella, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
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Mutely, she shook her head—praying he would not ask for a reason.

But he did. “Why stay away, then?” And when she could only shake her head again, he asked gruffly, “Are we not friends?”

Only friends. Oh gods, that should not hurt so much. Being friends ought to be enough—and Flora knew she was a poor friend, because she wanted too much.

But she would take whatever Brom wanted to give, and she would never ask for more.

“Yes,” she said with a painful rasp in her throat. “We are friends.”

A harsh exhalation gusted past her cheek. Brom’s rigid form sagged a little behind her, as if that heavy breath had released some undefined tension within him. Yet nothing about him softened; instead he pulled her even closer and buried his face in her hair for another long breath before a gentle nudge guided her upper body slightly to the side, as if he wished for her to pillow her head on his shoulder.

That she would do, and cherish every precious moment. With a sigh, Flora melted back against him.

Yet apparently Brom did not mean for her to sleep. “Take the reins,” he ordered with such guttural urgency that Flora didn’t hesitate to comply. “I will wait no longer for the next winding.”

The next what? But the question died in her throat when his right hand gripped the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in the hair at her nape and tilting her head at an angle that allowed his mouth to hover just above hers.

Surprise parted her lips on a gasp that drew in his humid breath, her heart desperately crying for him to cross the scant distance that remained.

“Flora?” Her name had never been spoken before in such deep tones that a delicious rumble echoed through her flesh. “I can begin?”

She knew not what Brom meant to start—but little did it matter. Her pulse thundering, she uttered a breathless, “You can. Please.”

The rough sound Brom made as his mouth claimed hers was yet another treasure for her velvet memory box, though not be a jewel that sparkled and gleamed. If a gemstone, that ravenous groan was uncut and unpolished, as if freshly carved out of the raw heart of a mountain. Her answering whimper from low in her throat was a trapped explosion of relief and joy. He did not kiss her as if this was their first, soft and searching. Instead Brom kissed her as if he’d been waiting these two months for a taste of her lips, and could not stop himself from devouring her in deep, hungry licks.

Slowly, his hand rose from her side to cup her breast in his palm, his thumb sweeping over the sensitive tip. A quake of pleasure raced through her body. At her shiver, Brom lifted his head. In the dark, his eyes were hooded shadows, his voice thick and full.

“I can touch you like this?”

“You can do,” she panted, “anything you wish.”

His quiet growl of approval was yet another memory to tuck away. And his wish must have been to kiss her more lightly, more teasingly—or he did so merely because he wished to better gauge the effect of his touch. A flick of his tongue, a toe-curling pinch. Gentle suction upon her upper lip, the rasp of calluses over softer skin. Her senses reeled under the dual onslaught of his mouth and his fingers, as his right hand held her still for his kisses and his left ignited a raging fire within her flesh.

A shudder wracked her from deep inside as his big hand smoothed downward over her belly.

Brom paused, his ragged breaths hot and harsh against her lips. “Yes?”

Her only response was to kiss him hungrily, desperately—then go utterly still as his fingers delved under linen and found her drenched in her need for him.

A groan ripped from his throat, reverberating through their kiss. “Such a wet cunt,” he gritted out as if tortured by such unmistakeable evidence of her lust, then his fingers began to circle over her clitoris, and Flora was lost—lost to everything but the lush ecstasy that bloomed brighter with every stroke of his fingertips, everything but Brom’s voice urging her higher as her back began to slowly arch, as if bracing against the explosion to come.

And when it did, he claimed her mouth so hungrily again, devouring her scream as she writhed and shook in his arms. Gradually his kisses gentled, leaving her with lips swollen and body limp.

His mouth trailed along her jaw. “I have dreamed of doing that since the first moment I saw you.”

Another sweet memory to tuck away. Perhaps one that would hurt more later, when she examined how he wanted her yet didn’t want her enough…but for now exhaustion combined with satisfaction and allowed her no more than a humming agreement in response.


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