Chapter 49 Remedy
REMEDY
LUELLA
In the wake of Graves’s admission—his past—Luella could only stare at him in shock and hurt.
"Graves," Luella whispered. "I don’t—I don’t think any words I know are suitable."
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I know the feeling."
They were alike in that way.
The stone had warmed beneath her, wind rising to match the tempest inside her.
"Thank you for telling me… I’ll guard your secrets."
"Do you understand now—why I lied to you?"
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking. "I understand. Don’t ask for anything more—not yet."
Hope flickered in his deep blue eyes; she couldn’t bear it.
The feel of his hand against her cheek, against her chest, grew to be too much. She was wired to yearn for his touch—just as she was the others. Against all her better senses, she wanted him.
Luella trusted nothing about him—yet her body trusted his touch more than her mind ever could.
He read her wants in her eyes, and he surged forward, lifting her mouth up to his as he pressed his lips to hers.
Graves kissed her softly yet deeply, a careful juxtaposition of what they both wanted and needed.
She craved fierce. But he gave her soft.
The softness did not last for long, however.
His lips were warm in a way that made her realize a part of her was still cold.
His stubble scratched her skin, and she sighed into his mouth. In a flurry of shifting feathers, he lifted her onto his lap, her thighs straddling his. She felt him beneath her—his hardness. It made her press against him, searching and desperate.
He stilled her with a hand on her breast, breaking them apart. "Are you sure?" he rasped, staring into her eyes.
Luella nodded, gaze dipping to his swollen lips. "I’m sure."
She hoped he didn’t press for more. She didn’t want to speak anymore. She wanted to feel. To forget. To luxuriate in the wind.
As he kissed her, his hand dipped between her thighs, sweeping beneath the damp fabric of her panties. He pressed his fingers against her heat. She shivered, wings fluttering violently as the waterfall continued to rush at her back. The spray hit her wings. The sensation was incredible.
"You like that?" Graves asked. "You like your wings touched?"
She nodded fervently.
His other palm spanned entirely over her right wing.
"Oh—" she moaned.
The brush of his fingers lit her up. Az had touched her wings before, but it hadn’t felt quite like this.
"How do you know what to d-do so well?" she managed to ask.
Graves’s stubble grazed her neck as he kissed her jaw, fingers working slowly between her thighs as he continued to touch her wings.
"I know which spots feel best. Here." He touched the spot closer to where her wings jutted from her back.
His hand moved higher, skimming the topmost edges.
"This spot feels different. Vulnerable in its own way.
" The sensation of his hand against the edges of her wings felt like a thousand butterfly kisses, ghosting against her.
The fingers between her thighs dove deeper into the pool of wetness that was surely soaking his pants, where she sat on his lap.
He teased her entrance, and she clenched up, fear gripping her.
Would he?
He collected the wetness there and brought it back up, using it to slicken the glide as he circled that spot right at the apex of her thighs with expertise.
Luella gasped and trembled against him.
"Let me see your wings," Graves murmured.
Her midsection tightened as she let her wings span out, slowly, then all at once.
She saw the white feathers from the corner of her eye.
Graves stroked his hand through them. It was true—he knew just the amount of pressure to apply to make her dizzy.
Her hips shifted to the tune of his fingers between her thighs and their twin heartbeats, thudding dangerously from desire.
"Look at this. Undone so easily," he said roughly against her skin, head rising until he took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged.
His dark wings stretched behind him, blocking out the grey stone and curling over his shoulders, as if to cocoon her.
She reached out, palms brushing his wings. Like soft down, they shivered beneath her touch. Long and lewd, he groaned, the sound rattling straight through her core.
Graves’s wings snapped wide, crushing her to him.
In shock, her thighs locked around his waist. Water poured over her head.
She suddenly found her back against the stone, right beneath the waterfall.
It streamed over them both, wetting her hair.
The white strands turned a dark grey, as did her feathers—while his black hair and black wings only grew a deeper shade of pitch.
His lower half pressed into her core, and her head tipped back against the wall as the water washed over her.
Her half-lidded eyes met his rapt gaze.
"Gods, look at you. If the others knew I had you like this right now…" He trailed off.
It was a sharp blast of frigidity to think of the rest of her Vincire right now. What would they think? What would Az and Bastian think? For Luella to let Graves, whom she’d been so distant and cold with, to touch her like this?
Luella’s fingers spread out against his wet feathers. "What they don’t know—remains between us." Her breath hitched.
He smiled, scar twitching. Her fingertip lifted, trailing over the length of it. She thought she already knew, but it was the one part of his story he had not told.
"The scar?" she questioned.
The hands on her hips flexed, digging into the space right under the crease of her bottom. "My father. He tried to behead me—he missed."
She leaned forward and, holding his eyes as best she could, kissed the scar.
Wordlessly, he took her jaw and tugged her up to his lips.
Down, down, down, they both spiraled beneath the pounding water, mouths locked as heat built between them. Their lips barely broke as he brought her to climax. When she slipped down the line of his body, her legs trembled and threatened to give out as aftershocks swept through her.
Water obscured her vision and clung to her lashes as she reached for him, fingers diving beneath his soaked shirt, which clung to his chest, allowing her to see every dip and rise of his muscles.
"You want to touch me?" He gave a half-smile. "Are you sure you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?"
She bit her lip and nodded. She had touched Az a few times, but he rarely let her do so until he reached his completion, forcing her hand away so he could finish by his own hand—as if he thought her to be too sweet to touch him in that way.
"What do you want?" he asked her.
What did Luella want?
In this private space, hidden by mountains and water, she found she wanted to do to him what had been done to her.
To press her trembling fingertips to the desire she saw straining against his soaked trousers.
How could she ask that of him? She was no temptress.
She gripped the waistband of his trousers, blush rising. "I want…"
"Say it."
Her knuckles brushed over his clothed hardness. "I want to touch you here—like you touched me."
He gripped her wrist so hard she felt her bones groan. With his other hand, he undid the buckle of his trousers and freed himself. Her eyes widened as he guided her hand over him, aligning their fingers, then squeezed, groaning deeply at the pressure.
She felt him twitch in her palm. Her lips parted as she stared at him. He was large, flushed with desire.
Graves used her hand to touch himself so angrily, so at odds with how gently her fingertips had grazed Az’s arousal.
"Is that what you like?" she whispered.
Graves looked up and met her eyes, black hair dripping with water. "Yes," he said. "I like it to hurt."
Her breath hitched, fingers going slack against him, but he kept her hand going, moving steadily up and down his hot length.
"Why would you want pain?" Luella couldn’t help but ask. Her eyes flicked over his face, taking in every shift of his expression. The way his mouth tightened, brows furrowed, and jaw clenched as her hand moved against him.
His head fell forward. She felt him jerk in her palm.
"You know why, sweetheart. I showed you, didn’t I? On the ship? The way pleasure isn’t just softness. It’s fear, adrenaline." His lips were by her ear as he spoke. "A thrill that makes you near sick." He moved her hand harder. "That’s always what I’ll crave."
The space between her thighs was oversensitized, but she felt need build up from his words.
"But your softness is so enticing." Graves’s teeth dug into the point of her ear, and she shuddered, crossing her legs so tightly her thighs ached.
He laughed quietly against her ear, then she felt his knee press between her legs. She gasped weakly as his knee forced her legs apart, shoving right against her aching core.
Graves squeezed her fingers around him. Her hand was numb from his grip. His thigh continued to press into her.
"If you knew the things I wanted to do to you," he breathed raggedly against her neck, "you’d run screaming."
"I-I’ve not run yet," she stuttered, head falling back against the stone behind her. Water misted her flushed cheeks.
"And you’ve not screamed," he said. "I’ll remedy that."
He worked her higher with his knee between her legs, until she was gasping, clawing against him with one hand. It was too much, too much. Her whispered, broken pleas went unheard as he drove her to the edge of pleasure again. Like being hurled over a cliff.
She did scream.
Muffled sobs escaped her as she sank against his chest, trembling and spent. His thigh kept moving, and she scrambled away from the sensations on her body; she felt wrung of pleasure, unable to give any more. When her spasms softened, he relented.
He came into her hand with a rush of warmth, spilling over her fingers and dripping to the watery stone beneath her bare feet.
Their breaths came ragged and hot. She felt his breath against her temples. When she pulled away from the crook of his neck, she met his eyes, feeling his warmth against her face and lips.
He stared at her, and a flicker of regret flashed in his eyes, almost too quick to catch. As if awakening from a daze of lust, he uttered, "You didn’t stop me."
Luella shook her head. "Should I have?" Her voice trembled.
He searched her eyes, then gripped her by the nape, forcing her lips back to his to press a bruising kiss to her mouth.
"I’m no good for you. I’ll ruin you," he whispered against her mouth.
They were so close—again, Luella found herself counting his lashes, and the water clinging to their ends.
"I don’t mind. I told you, I didn’t run." She blushed from her words.
She had liked what they’d done, but what she did not like was the loathing and regret in his eyes. It reminded her of Az, when he forced her hand away from him and distracted her from reciprocating his touch.
"I am not as delicate as you think I am," Luella whispered. "I won’t break—not from this, at least."
She felt the thread between them tug as he sifted through her emotions.
When satisfied, he said, "Then prepare yourself. I’ve only shown you the beginning."