Tides of Torment (Immortal Realms Book 2)

A hunger that Travion had tamped down for far too long erupted within, consuming every fiber of his being. Sereia was there, truly there in his arms. He had longed for her return, but now—amid the discord in the sea? His heart thundered in his ears as their kiss deepened, chasing away his tumultuous thoughts and replacing them with his need for her.

Travion dropped a hand to one of Sereia’s thighs, pushing the silken fabric aside. The skirt glided away with ease, and as his thumb met the bare skin beneath, he discovered she was slick to the touch. It drove him mad, even more so as the scent of her arousal rose between them. He swore into her mouth. There would be time for more drawn-out pleasure, but Travion needed her now, as much as she seemed to need and want him.

Sereia rolled her hips against him in a steady rhythm as he withdrew his hand to unbutton his breeches.

Travion’s length sprung free from the confinement, and Sereia wriggled lower in his grasp until her scorching heat met him.

He nudged her warm center, allowing her warmth to coat him.

“Trav,” Sereia whined against his lips as she bore down—or at least attempted to.

Travion chuckled as his lips moved away from her mouth, then down her neck. His hands shifted to Sereia’s bottom, angling her for better access. This would be no sweet reunion but a heated, frenzied one.

With a thrust of his hips, Travion entered the welcoming warmth of Sereia’s folds, which enveloped him as he filled her to the hilt. He left a trail of heated kisses down her collarbone and to the valley between her breasts. By the sea, she tasted like a mixture of salt and honey, which only intoxicated him, muddying his thoughts but spurring on his actions.

“Don’t stop now,” she grumbled, shifting against him.

“So impatient,” Travion tutted. Moving forward to support her better against the wall, his hands aided her as she rose. So began the punishing pace he set for them. Each quick stroke, each rise and fall of Sereia, filled him with pleasure that rose like a tide.

Her fingers trailed along his neck and into his hair, clutching tightly as she collided with every thrust. Tossing her head back, she arched herself into him. Travion’s mouth pulled the dress aside to reveal one of her hardened nipples. His lips circled the tender skin as his tongue ran around the outer flesh.

Scissoring his teeth along the nub, he delighted in the gasps that were none too quiet. Midniva wasn’t as open when it came to their debauchery, and their king didn’t have a history of flaunting his indiscretions. However, if anyone stumbled upon them, neither Travion nor Sereia would have burned in shame. They were both children of Lucem, whether by blood or birth, and Sereia simply didn’t give a damn.

A groan slipped from Travion as her inner walls clamped tighter around him. “By the sea . . .” His lips stilled on Sereia’s nipple as she collided with him quicker than before, and he met every downward motion with a thrust.

Travion knew every curve, every inch of her body. So, as her completion drew near, he pulled his head back and watched the moment unfold. Her eyes slammed shut as she rasped his name over and over. Which proved to be his undoing, for he gave into his pleasure, spilling himself into her.

Travion sucked in a greedy breath. His arms wrapped around her, holding her sagging form tightly. It took all he had not to sink to the floor. Chuckling, he trailed soft kisses from her breast to her neck, all the way to her full lips. There would be another time to raise a wall between them again, but this wasn’t it.

When Sereia shifted; they both groaned. “Oh,” she breathed. “I missed this too.” She dragged her fingertips along his neck, then cupped his cheeks and leaned in to press a firm kiss to his lips.

The words, though simple, softened his heart, which he’d done well to harden over the years. Since she left, he hadn’t entertained anyone, because no one was Sereia and no one could rile his temper or his passion as she did. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t begun withdrawing himself from the ghost of her.

Even he knew it wasn’t healthy to hold on to an idea of someone.

“A quick rutting in a corner?” Travion scoffed. “I could do better than that.”

“I know you can. Just like I know that is only the beginning of the evening.” Sereia pulled a hand free of his cheek to tug her dress back into place and slid down his frame to stand. Her blue gaze swept along his mussed clothing, which brought a smirk to her lips. “What a state you’re in, Your Majesty.”

By the sea! She was so quick to think it would continue? His gaze dropped to her kiss-bruised lips, and he knew then that was exactly where they’d wind up—in his bed. “No thanks to you.” Tucking himself back into his breeches, he secured them again and set to tidying his appearance. Evun would be distraught at his ragamuffin looks but would no doubt revel in the fact that Travion had finally broken his bout of celibacy.

“I’ll do better next time. I’ll ensure there is no way you could possibly stroll casually into the soiree without requesting the aid of your valet.” When she leaned forward, her lips left a heated path in their wake along his jawline.

Travion shut his eyes. “Mm, if that were the case, you’d have no dress left to wear.” He would have reduced it to tattered scraps if he’d had his way with her in their usual manner. Aggressive, drawn-out, and frenzied.

Travion tucked in his shirt and leaned against the wall as he buttoned it. He sighed heavily and threaded his fingers through his hair. How long would this last? How long before Sereia left again, and this time for good?

She leaned against his shoulder. Her arms looped around his torso and back. “Say it.”

“I have nothing to say.” He paused, having more than enough to say, but then glanced down at her. “I do have something to ask . . .”

She quirked a brow.

“Did you see anything out there? I’ve read the reports of giant creatures, and survivors have been tended to, but did you come across anything?” A frown creased his brow, but despite the worry that crept in in place of his fading pleasure, he lifted a hand to brush back her hair.

“Yes,” Sereia murmured. “A kraken bigger than my ship . . . Trav, we were in the thick of it.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and placed a hand to his cheek. “What do you know?”

Travion shook his head. “Those creatures have been turned by The Creaturae.”

“The Creaturae?”

“An ancient tome of old magic with the power of ultimate creation and destruction. And it was within our reach . . .” His eyes flicked toward the ceiling.

Sereia tapped his cheek—not enough to sting, but it wasn’t light either. “Don’t do that. Talk to me, tell me what has happened.”

This time, Travion’s entire face scrunched up. “Did you just slap me?”

“No.” She lifted her hand, but this time he was ready, and he caught her wrist. “If I were to smack you, everyone would know I did.” A wicked smile spread across her face. One that Travion adored.

Sereia squared her shoulders as if she were readying to leap into battle already. “Don’t blame yourself for this. It isn’t your fault.” When the last words left her lips, she looked away and put distance between them. “Tell me, what are we actually dealing with here?”

What were they actually dealing with? With Naya in the pits of a mental hell, they’d assumed it was all finished, but that wasn’t so. Not with the book gone, not with giant sea monsters destroying ships and killing citizens of Midniva and Tribonik. The question was, who was orchestrating the discord?

He licked his lips. “I’ll summarize it for you.”

Travion relayed the events of the past four months, including Zryan’s foolishness. Some details were spared, but the more important ones he didn’t skimp on. Like Lucem being tossed into darkness, or the first bout with a manticore, and how Travion’s efforts with Draven had been nothing but a wild goose chase.

It had taken two months for Travion to feel normal again. With the aid of his nephew, Kian, he was able to heal physically and, for the most part, mentally.

“‘Tis a shame, honestly. Kian would have made a wonderful king.” Travion’s lips tilted into a small smirk.

Sereia hissed at his words, shoving his shoulder, which happened to be the one that was still quite sore. “That isn’t funny.”

He grunted, wincing as he ran his fingers along the tender muscle. “It’s the truth. Nevertheless, I’d not wish your fury on him had you returned only to discover I was dead.” He watched as she began to pace, her hands on her hips as she spun on her heel to march in the other direction.

“I wish I’d been here to fight with you.”

Folding one of his arms across his body, Travion dragged his free hand down his face, working out the lines of frustration. He was glad she hadn’t been, for if Sereia had been fighting by his side, he knew she would have taken the brunt of the manticore attack, or possibly endured something worse—if that was possible. “You are here now, and it appears a new battle is on the horizon. If you’d like to join me in arms, then you’ll have to stay on land for a little while.”

She flashed him a seductive smile in reply.

“And your room is ready for you, as always.” He tapped his fingers against his hip. “Minus one outfit, Eden lifted one after . . . ”

Sereia nodded as a flurry of emotions passed over her gaze. Relief, regret, and something else. “She could take all of it for all I care. It’s only clothing.” She lowered her eyes to his vest, but Travion imagined she was seeing the scar instead of his clothing.

“Sereia,” he murmured, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. Travion inhaled the scent of her, the smell of sunshine and the sea. “I am here, and aside from a ghastly scar, I am well.” His arms squeezed her. “Don’t conjure a fight in that head of yours that isn’t here. I’ll need your head in the present for what’s about to come. If what everyone says is true . . . it’ll make the sun disappearing in Lucem seem like child’s play.”

In return, she squeezed him, her face pressed against his chest, where his heart thrummed steadily. “And what is coming?”

“I fear something terrible. Nothing you’ve faced before, and if I could spare anyone, especially you, I would.”

Sereia frowned, pulling back. She lifted her hand and ran her fingertips along his kiss-bruised lips. “We will face it together.”

Travion brushed kisses along her fingers. He wanted her there with him, selfishly, and more than that, he needed her. The ache deep in his chest had nothing to do with the unsightly scar and everything to do with how he missed Sereia.

A trill of laughter down the hall pulled him away from their intimacy. Unfortunately, it was still the early hours, and he had guests to entertain, at least for a while longer. He glanced down at Sereia, her light sandalwood skin flushed with their shared pleasure.

“If you want to clean—”

She smirked at him as she withdrew. “Let them see me rumpled. What do I care?”

Travion closed the distance between them, his arm looping around her waist. “It will at least give them something to talk about.”

Sereia’s eyes flashed in challenge. “I will give them plenty to whisper of.”

“I have no doubt.” Travion laughed as he escorted her into the ballroom. Few glanced in his direction, but it meant little to him. Their eyes didn’t need to be on him for their tongues to wag. Whatever they whispered couldn’t touch him tonight, not while Sereia graced him with her presence and cast him glances that threatened to bring him to his knees.