40. Cat
Chapter forty
Cat
T he second summit was approaching sooner than we expected, and there was so much work we needed to do despite toiling nonstop for a week since the High Artist’s … demotion. To prison. There was the work from the angels that the university wanted. Our list of supplies that we needed—with improvements. As well as negotiations about potential future visits from angels in the mountain. And I needed to brace myself for going back to the human world. I had sent a letter explaining the situation, and we received a reply. The university was not thrilled, to say the least, but I couldn’t help but notice that under their thin veil of annoyance was academic desire.
Silv. Silv was going to kill me. What was he going to say, once he learned just what I did? What I had become? Zariel’s magic was now mine, my memory improved, my sense of direction impeccable. But with it, I would never be a normal human again. I missed Silv so much—I hoped I could talk him into joining us at the Ashen Mountain. If we managed to make it back to Zariel’s home, he deserved the chance to go too.
I had all that work to do and here Zariel had insisted we take a break for … something.
“Where are we going?” I asked. The High Artist’s apartments—our new ones—were decadent and large enough that there were several options in these chambers. While the same snow-like ash glistened over the stone walls as in the rest of the mountain, here there were white gemstones—ones that seemed like crystal, moonstone, and another that glowed a pale blue light—were placed along the walls in patterns like snowflakes. The floor was another careful mosaic of white and silver stone, and I suspected the molding was made of real silver. Besides this, we had a sitting room that contained the High Artist’s private library, a different room with a harp and harpsichord, and yet another with a private atrium, filled with teeming green and sometimes edible life.
“Oh, you’ll see.” Zariel smirked. “But before I show you anything, you need to promise you’ll return to working on your dissertation.”
“My … what?”
“Your studies.” He searched my face. “They are important to you, no? ”
“Well, yes, but I thought I’d have to give that up to stay here, and when it’s time I want to go with you—”
He stopped and gently cupped my face. “What I want you to do, before the next summit, is figure out what you need to do to finish your studies. We can arrange for you to leave the mountain, if needed. And you should, to see your family and friends and experience your world while you can. You’re my mate—not my prisoner.”
“Leave here … not for long, right?”
“Never.” He kissed my forehead.
“Good. Because you’re not allowed to leave this world without me.” I grinned. If I tried, completing my PhD was possible. With the access to the Ashen Mountain’s library, and guidance from my academic advisor, it would be possible to finish my dissertation, and I could leave to defend it when it was time. And it was also possible that my unique access to the angels would make the doctoral committee be understanding of physical commitments. Because while I adored that Zariel wanted me to continue my dream, I wasn’t going to risk that the worlds would return and I wouldn’t be here. Whatever had put the worlds in this place could decide to change their minds at any time. I wasn’t going to be separated from him. No matter what it took.
Zariel guided me to the bedroom, an opulent space filled with free-standing crystals that went up to my waist arranged along the wall like a little fence. A window to the outside went from floor to ceiling, giving us a perfect view of the wintery ashen world. A living pine tree grew near the window, its roots hidden from view under the stone floor.
In the center of it all was our light blue velvet-covered bed, resting under its white canopy.
“This is what you wanted to show me?”
He rubbed his fingers through his hair, giving me a sheepish grin. “Yes.”
Without a word, we both went and laid on the bed and I moved so that my back was against his chest, his wings protectively over us. My favorite position, and his. I traced a finger along the bones of his wing, delighting in the little gasps and shivers that came from him at my movements.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he teased. “I’ve seen what you can do to a wing.”
“Never.”
His hands inched along my chest, grasping one breast after another, all while a prominent hardness pressed against my ass. “How would you like me to take you?” he murmured in my ear. “In the air? On the ground? I’m sure I can find another study room.”
I giggled. “For us, in a bed is a novelty.”
“In bed it is.”
He nuzzled my neck as he pressed gentle kisses and nipped the skin. Heat worked through me, responding in places that his hands were nowhere near. While he kissed me, his hands delved into the folds of my dress, expertly working around the panels and ties .
“I want you to lay on the bed,” he said, tugging the fabric away from me. “I want to look at you.”
The heat was now an urgent throbbing, but I obeyed, laying on my back while he moved so that he was positioned over me, moving the last layers of my dress away like he was unwrapping a present.
He uttered my name with a soft groan.
My breasts were now bare, my body exposed, from my neck, to my burning runes that matched his, to my core, which was already desperate for his touch.
“Have they bothered you, my dearest?” He pressed a line of kisses over each rune, a mirror of his own. We were bound by more than a mate bond, or by love—we were bound by blood and magic, tied together no matter what.
“Never,” I said. “A little uncomfortable, but never bad.”
“Good.”
His hands worked down my thighs while he hovered over my core, breathing his hot breath over me.
“So slick,” he said, touching the wetness that waited for him. “Do you want … this?” He plunged a finger into me, deftly working it in a way that made me writhe.
“How about … this?” He slid in a second finger, stretching me. His mouth followed, suckling and nibbling on my clit, an elaborate dance that only he knew, and I could do nothing but watch. And feel. He was positioned over me, his wings spread, while he undressed with his free hand, unveiling a sculpted chest and burning runes that were a twin to my ow n. Underneath the soft layer of feathers, his cock was hard and protruding towards me. I wanted that. Now.
“Ah, so this is what you really want,” he said, positioning himself at my entrance. I could only gasp in reply as he rubbed himself over me and pushed into me. I twisted, adjusting to the perfect stretch and fit. And then, once he was seated inside me to the hilt, he moved.
I couldn’t form words. I could only take what he was giving me, over and over. Unlike when we were in the air, or when we were on the altar, Zariel slammed into me. Hard. I was his mate, his partner, and he was taking me as he wanted. And I would take it all, gladly.
“My love,” he said in my ear, pinching my clit gently while he worked me into a frenzy. “I was made for you. To satisfy you. And I want you to show me that I’m right. I want you to come on me, all over my cock and hand.” He kissed me, devouring me, not needing to listen for an answer. He worked harder, thrusting in a fluid rhythm, matched by my own maneuvers.
And then he sat up, adjusting his wings so that the very tips brushed and teased my breasts.
He was a statue come to life, perfect as chiseled ice. A brilliant mind and gentle heart. And he was mine.
I came with a cry and he followed almost immediately after, filling me. Without pulling out of me, he moved back so that he was holding me against him once more. With his arms around me he thrusted slowly, letting us both bask in bliss.
“I love you,” Zariel said. “I have no idea how it is that the worlds shifted to let me find you, but I am grateful.”
I kissed him in answer, with no words necessary. We may have been fated, but we chose each other. And we would choose each other again and again.
No matter what came.