The Splash Zone

Trisley: Scene One~Emerald Fireflies(Mature Content Warning)

The long awaited, highly anticipated moment some of you have been waiting for since 2017. I give you, Trisley tangled in the sheets. This takes place right after Chapter 29 in BOD. I'd say I'm straddling the line of romance and erotica...maybe...I think... *Pushes publish and runs away when in reality Kenzie will spend the rest of her evening compulsively checking her phone awaiting judgment.* 

Reminder this is rated MATURE , intended for 18+/ mature readers.

~ KINLEY POV ~

Mint-green tangles around my arms, ensnaring me for the vampire whose lips are crushed against mine. Ravenous hunger leeches into me, bathing my senses in the ebony power that thrives in Tristan. It's manic, hypnotic, and all-consuming. Tristan is everywhere. He's my skin, the blood that runs through my veins, the beat of my heart, and the breath he's stealing. I swear the only thing anchoring me to this realm is the nightgown trapping my arms above my head, the softness of the silk becoming chains as I'm at the mercy of a vampire who has none.

Tristan's muscular thighs keep my hips pinned to the bed, his skilled-mouth on a mission to make me see the emerald lake of fire in the sky before my back hits his bed. There is no keeping up with him. There's just holding on. His icy tongue dips further into my mouth, his hands bending my neck so he can explore, tease, and take what he wants.

I attempt to free my arms from the nightgown with no success. A fanged smile spreads Tristan's lips, yet his unyielding seizure of my mouth does not cease. It deepens, drowning me in his desires.

My struggle to free my arms heightens when the softest feature of Tristan's—his full, lush lips—leave mine swollen and wanting more. A mouth that has claimed so many souls should not possess the ability to be this gentle or caressing. A vampire who is all harsh angles and grr  looking such as Tristan shouldn't be this swoon-worthy. He's supposed to be a warning.

Stay away.

Don't look him in the eye.

Don't touch unless you want to get bitten or beheaded.

I'm not heeding any of the warnings sown right into him for the entire world to see. I don't have to, because this vampire is my  monster.

The sensation Tristan stirs deep in my stomach is torturous. A slow build of something powerful and dangerous, just like him. If I don't get my arms free soon, I fear the growing storm he's crafting may topple me. A one-way trip to oblivion that could rival his Maker's will.

A slow, widening smile spreads against my neck. Tristan is enjoying my struggle, and he's in no hurry to help. He likes me being trapped for his viewing, and that he's free to fulfill whatever whim demands his attention next.

"Tristan." I squirm, the nerves in me blossoming into an anxiousness that tightens my stomach and coils in my legs.

With my arms this way, I feel like a sacrifice on display near the altar of the Beast of the Damned's bed.

Tristan raises his arms, his taller stature easily overtaking mine.

Anticipation clenches in my chest as he fists the mint-green material holding me captive to his seductive punishments. I, too, want to touch, to feel his hard muscles under the refined leather of his pale skin—valderan armor in the flesh. I've wanted to touch him since I saw him pull himself out of the spring, dripping wet with that arrow pointing straight to the massive bulge currently pressing into me as if it were the sword that's usually tied to his hip. Roarra makes it hard to think about Tristan for any length of time, but under Tristan's hands with his energy spilling into me, Roarra can't get in the way.