Chapter 19
Nineteen
Kyrith
Two arcanists linger when the others leave for the evening. I sigh, trying to decide whether to tackle the blond prince pretending to read the spines of the books to my left or the dark giant leaning against a pillar around the corner with his arms crossed.
Pierce, of course, takes the decision out of my hands.
“I thought you’d at least thank me. It wasn’t easy disguising the magical signature of that pendant.”
My spine stiffens at his temerity. “You can have only two motivations for what you showed me,” I reply.
“One would be to blackmail or frighten me, in which case, you’ve failed.
The other would be to warn me, but I’ll admit, I’m at a loss as to why.
House Carlton has made no secret of its contempt for both my office and the Arcanaeum in recent years. ”
Pierce studies me but doesn’t move any closer. “Mathias is alive. Is that not more concerning to you than my motives?”
“Mathias is a lich,” I correct. “He is beyond life or death, and his plans are undoubtedly already in motion. However, your motivations will determine whether you’re my enemy or my ally. A crucial distinction, would you not say?”
He tips his head in acknowledgement. “Are you willing to meet with my grandfather now?”
I tug at my sleeve as I consider it. My memories of Benny as a student are few, and his recent actions—giving me a book which allowed me to heal Jasper and helping Pierce crack me—give me no clue as to where he stands either.
I wanted to meet with him, but am I being backed into a corner of Pierce’s making?
Only one way to find out. “Yes. At his earliest convenience.”
Pierce doesn’t gloat about having gotten his way, and I’m grateful. My shoulders drop several inches as he nods and knocks on the nearest door, murmuring his destination quietly enough that I don’t hear where he’s going. The empty hall he steps into offers few clues either.
Is there anything as frustrating as being in the dark when the stakes are so high? If this meeting with Benny provides more questions than answers—no. It can’t. I’ll take steps to ensure that doesn’t happen.
I turn and slam face first into Dakari’s chest with a small oof that makes him snort.
“He’s giving you a headache,” the larger man grumbles, his hands automatically falling to my shoulders.
If the way his hands have scrambled my ability to think is any indication, I am becoming ridiculously weak to casual touch. Without meaning to, I lean into him, pressing us together as my eyes flutter shut.
“Tired?” he asks.
“Not that tired,” I mumble.
It’s the wrong thing to say, because he stops massaging the tight knot of muscle at the base of my neck. “Baby girl, you need to be very clear. What exactly do you mean by that?”
Butterflies erupt as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. Thanks to the contract, I know he’s on the potion, and there’s not a single sexual disease in existence that alchemy hasn’t cured. All of the practical matters are seen to, and he agreed, in principle, to the idea. Maybe…
“You read the contract.” And he adjusted it in ways that made my knees weak. “I agree with Lambert's idea. I’ll give the others their copies tomorrow, but whatever they decide, I—”
I cut myself off, a seed of doubt making the butterflies stutter, but Dakari won’t let me look away.
“Whatever they decide…?” he echoes.
“Can I have one night of selfishness?” I ask quietly. “If they don’t sign, or they disagree, then we can pretend it never happened. But… Please, Dakari. Just…please.”
The plea is torn from my soul, from a chasm of loneliness and starvation that yawns wider and more painful the deeper into his black gaze I fall.
There’s an instant where I believe he’ll deny me. Where the idea of one night that might one day become a dirty secret never to be mentioned seems foolish. That would only be fair, after all. What I’m suggesting is greedy and thoughtless and—
He groans. “Fuck it.”
Strong hands wrap around my outer thighs, lifting me as his mouth descends on mine. I moan into his kiss, heady relief and electricity arcing through the places where we connect, until I want to weep with the rightness of it.
He takes one step forward, then another, until my back is pressed against a shelf and his hips are settled inside my spread legs, providing pressure against my sex in the most delicious way.
His need is written in the urgency of his kiss and the hard length that grinds against my clit.
It’s been so long, and yet a hundred buried instincts shake themselves off and claw their way to the forefront. My hands fist the lapels of his jacket, holding him to me like someone might snatch him away at any moment as I devour him like I’ve been starving for centuries.
Because I have.
I shove at the fabric, wordlessly demanding fewer barriers between us. Dakari chuckles into our kiss as he shrugs it away so it pools at his elbows, leaving only his t-shirt between me and the warmth of his chest. My fingers eagerly shove that away too, wanting skin, heat, life.
His breath shudders out of him at the contact, hips flexing in a way that drives his erection harder against my pussy. Surely the thin fabric of my skirt can’t hide the fact that my arousal is already dripping down my thighs.
If he finds fault with my enthusiasm, he has the good sense not to say anything as our mouths break apart. Those black eyes trail over my expression, reading the heat in my cheeks, then travel down to where my off-the-shoulder top exposes the heaving swells of my breasts.
Those full lips return, this time buried in the crook of my neck, nuzzling his way down the curve of my shoulder. His hands tighten, lifting me higher, giving him better access, and I gasp as he sucks at a sensitive spot I’d forgotten I even had.
I yank at his top, then grab power from the Arcanaeum and just disintegrate it.
“I’ll conjure you a new one,” I promise before he can say anything.
My hands return, this time petting warm, scarred brown skin. He’s so strong, so safe, and my heart thuds a little harder in my chest as my palms smooth over his pecs, up to his deltoids and then pause as he resumes his kisses, distracting me.
“Take us somewhere with a bed,” he murmurs against the upper slope of my breast. “I want you to be comfortable for what I’m about to do to you.”
Without even thinking about it, I drag him with me into the clock tower.
The Arcanaeum—meddling building—has remade my bed with clean sheets, and there are wisplights and rose petals littering the floor around it.
I don’t really have time to appreciate the effect because Dakari carries me three easy steps forward and carefully deposits me on the mattress.
He takes a step back, toeing off his boots and dropping his jacket to the floor.
That leaves him in just a pair of well-worn jeans, and I eat up the sight of him.
He raises that scarred brow as his thumbs hook into his waistband, gesturing with his head to my own clothes. Taking his unspoken hint, I grab the hem of my blouse and pull it over my head.
“Is that a corset?” he chokes.
Eddy told me this would be an issue, but I foolishly hoped he wouldn't remark on it. I was raised with stiff kirtles and stomachers, but those are no longer in fashion. Maybe one day I’ll get used to the newfangled undergarments, but until then this was the best compromise.
Of course, I know modern men struggle with unfastening the simplest brassieres, and corset lacing might be beyond them, but…
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find good quality, supportive undergarments in this century? This is made precisely to my measurements, spelled to be self-cleaning, supportive, and softer than silk. In contrast, bras have no posture support, and why are they all so uniform? No one seems to understand the sizing. And don’t get me started on the burst blood vessels in my shoulders…
” I trail off as a wicked grin eclipses his face, turning him from handsome to positively predatory in the space of a heartbeat.
Dakari places one knee on the bed, almost like he can’t help himself. “I am never, ever, going to look at your prim little outfits the same way again.”
Oh. He wasn’t criticising?
Relaxing, I reach for the strings at my back, beginning the arduous process of loosening them. He takes the opportunity to crawl over me, dipping his hands to my skirt and tugging. It slips off, leaving me in just my corset and stockings.
Dakari’s eyes flare as they settle on the unobstructed apex of my thighs.
“You weren’t wearing panties when you put Pierce on his ass?”
I snort. “I haven’t worn them since I was born. Why start now?”
Some parts of modern clothing just don’t work for me. At least he doesn’t question why I’ve foregone those irritating socks that bunched around my ankles.
Sitting forward, I untuck the laces of the corset, only to pause as Dakari crawls over me, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of my left breast, just above the plum-coloured silk.
“Keep going,” he breathes.
My fingers fumble at their task. Every swipe of his lips and tongue, so close to the hard bud of my nipple, erodes my concentration. It’s like he can sense how much I want his tongue lower and is determined to torment me. Then he sucks, leaving a tiny red love bite on the skin.
Shit. Now there’s a knot in my laces.
With a small, frustrated snarl, I reach for a spell I normally use to slice paper and aim it blindly at the strings. The stiffened fabric falls forward, freeing my breasts.
Dakari wastes no time in swiping away the corset, then ducks his head.
I expect him to give me what I want, not to swirl his tongue around my nipple like it’s his favourite dessert.
His big hands cup my breasts, holding them in place for his worship as my head falls back, body melting onto the soft sheets, so I’m splayed out before him.
Ohhh.