Chapter 42
Non
I'd decided to gatecrash the Western Coven's party.
I'd not seen or spoken to Dylan since our stand-off at the summoning circle at the end of the second trial. We'd also not made any further arrangements for him to train me, though I suspected there was a lot more he could teach me.
About my power, of course.
My day had been rather mundane—breakfast with Jazz and Addae, followed by a visit to see Alaw in the Healers’ Ward.
Sioned was incredibly rude when we asked her for more information about Alaw's injuries and what could have caused them. So rude, in fact, that I considered telling her the message her sister Hefina had sent via me.
Alaw had yet to regain consciousness, and Sioned and her cronies seemed stumped as to why.
Jazz had suggested we venture back down to the dining hall for dinner. One final meal together before the Anoethau concluded tomorrow, and Jazz, Addae, and Alaw would travel back home to the South.
I highly doubted my grandmother would enforce night watch tonight, considering she'd been none the wiser to my disappearing from my post the last two weeks. But I'd insisted to Jazz that I needed to complete my punishment. Really, it was just a cover to come see Dylan.
The Western encampment was as alive as usual despite the late hour. The fairway was packed with families and those who chose to drink in celebration of the upcoming end to the Anoethau.
I noticed Zenn, Lleucu, Mercy, and Efydd huddled around a brass pot of stew as they laughed and clinked their drinks together.
The entrance to Dylan's tent was closed, but the smoke rising from the chimney told me he was home and working on forging something.
When I'd last been here, Dylan had insisted I didn't need to knock. Although we'd had a stand-off at the end of the second trial, I didn't think it was severe enough that he didn't want to see me.
I dusted off my habit. I'd opted to wear the black shirt and leggings Dylan had given me for training. Around my middle was the harness he'd given me that held Carnwennan and Cynddaredd. Inside my habit was the love spoon he'd carved for me out of the bone from the Afanc.
I pulled the flap back and stepped inside. “I hope you aren't doing anything—”
“Non,” he said, eyes wide as he leaned against his workbench.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Dylan was shirtless, and his perfect torso gleamed with sweat. His tattoos seemed to give off a faint glow in the candlelight.
Sat on his workbench with her legs crossed and a hand touching his bicep was the lavender-haired girl who'd been hanging around when I was training.
“Not doing anything sordid with anyone else, huh?”
The purple-haired woman uncrossed her legs and kicked them as they dangled off the table.
Dylan frowned. “Does this look sordid?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the purple-haired woman answered for me: “Kind of.”
Gritting my teeth, I focused on Dylan, who had now straightened to his full height.
“Non, this is Morgen. Morgen, this is Non.”
Morgen wiggled her fingers. “Nice to meet you.”
“I'm sorry, did I dream this, or did you make me a love spoon only a couple of days ago?”
Dylan looked confused. “I did.”
Morgen gasped. “You gave her a love spoon?”
“Made, not just gave,” Dylan corrected.
“And have you not kissed me on two separate occasions of your own free will?”
“Absolutely, I have,” he said, full of sincerity.
“Then why are you topless and sweaty in a dimly lit tent with a beautiful woman who's touching you?”
Dylan's eyes glanced down at himself, then to the dim lamp hanging from the ceiling. He glanced sidelong at Morgen, finally checking his arm. “Okay, I can see how this could be interpreted, but it's not what you think.”
I let out a cry of frustration and turned to leave.
“Non, wait! Morgen, get the fuck out. You can give me a debrief another time.”
She hopped down from the table. “See you soon, boss.”
Pushing past me, she spoke in my ear, “Just to clarify, giving him a debrief is not a double entendre for something —”
“Out, Morgen!” Dylan roared.
As Morgen pulled the fabric curtains across the door, she shot me a wink before the tent turned dark again.
Dylan reached for my hand, but I snatched it away.
“Cariad,” he pleaded.
I looked over my shoulder at him. He stood only inches away, arms crossed over his stupid, perfect chest.
“Stop calling me that.”
When Dylan didn't respond, I grew more frustrated.
“My Welsh may be poor, but I know what that means.”
Again, the prick stood in silence.
“Love,” I laughed, but it lacked any mirth. “You're such an anomaly. Who calls someone that then lets a purple-haired bitch touch him when he has no clothes on?”
“Non,” Dylan warned, hooking his knuckle under my chin. When I pulled away, fixing my eyes on the ground, he took a step back and ran his hands through his damp hair. “If you don't want to look at me, that's fine, but I'm going to ask that you answer some questions for me.”
I shrugged, but he carried on anyway.
“Why did you come here tonight? We didn't have any training planned. Frankly, I was going to give you the night off, considering what's happening tomorrow.”
”Boredom,” I blurted out. “I was bored. That's why I came to see you. Look, never mind. If you don't want me here, I'll just go.”
I hated how childish I sounded. Jealousy was such an ugly emotion, and one I had no right to feel.
Sure, we'd kissed a couple of times. He'd helped me train, but that was transactional.
He was a relentless flirt, but he was like that with everyone.
The way I was throwing my toys out of the pram, you'd have sworn we were a couple.
Embarrassed by my own reaction, I made my way towards the door.
“Oh no, you don't.” Dylan slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me back against him. “You're wearing black,” he whispered as he planted a kiss between my shoulder and my neck.
Shamelessly, a groan escaped my lips at the contact of his skin against mine.
“Stating the fucking obvious.” I shifted in his grip, feeling the hard length of him pressed against my arse. “I got confused and thought we'd agreed to train this evening. That's why I'm wearing this.”
He spoke against my skin, sending sparks skittering down my spine. “Stop lying, Non.”
“I'm not—” His teeth grazed the sensitive part under my ear. “Okay, I deliberately wore my training clothes because I know you like to see me in black,” I panted as he continued to lick and kiss my neck.
Fuck, it was shameful how loose my lips became when he was touching me.
“What else are you wearing that's black, Non?” he growled.
There was no way he knew... Did he?
“Answer my question, Non. I need to hear you say it. What else are you wearing that's black?”
“My underwear,” I said breathlessly.
Dylan moaned into my neck, and his huge hands moved from my hips around the front of my body. This time, he intentionally grazed his knuckles against my breasts. I damned this habit for how thick and restrictive it was.
“Describe them for me. In detail.”
His thumbs traced circles over my nipples, and I ground my arse into his crotch.
“L-lace thong and a lace bra—Oh!” Dylan pinched my nipple between his thumb and his forefinger and twisted. My head kicked back like a depraved person as he drove his hips into my arse.
“That's my girl. You chose those for me?”
I only managed a nod. If I'd opened my mouth, I thought I'd climax then and there.
“Do you want to know what I had planned this evening?” His voice was still husky, but some of the wanton tension had gone.
Clearing my throat, I straightened my habit. “Sure.”
He spun me around and pushed me against his worktable, bracing his arms on either side of my hips as he caged me in.
“That meeting with Morgen was my last of the evening. I'd cleared my schedule in hopes we could spend some time together. I know I owe you further explanations on a couple of things. My plan was to come find you at Llwyn Onn. I'd arranged a dinner for us in the woods.”
It was safe to say that my heart grew three sizes in that moment. Everything Dylan did, he did with attentiveness. The dagger, the love spoon... It made my jealousy earlier even more ridiculous.
Running a hand down his chest, I traced the patterns of ink as they dipped between his pectorals. “I would like that very much.”
His smirk dropped as his eyes tracked down my body like a predator. I wasn't sure if he wanted to fuck me or kill me, but I liked the sound of both. Fuck, what was wrong with me?
“How hungry are you?”
“Hungry but not starving.”
The wood beneath his fingers groaned as he gripped the table harder. His resolve was snapping, but his face was its usual mask of calm.
“Could you wait a couple of hours before eating?”
“Sure.”
“Good.” He pounced, his lips crashing down on mine.
The last two times he had kissed me, they had been life-altering, cataclysmic kisses for the ages. But this one...this was the kind of kiss that ruined every other kiss I might ever have in my long life.
There was no gentleness in the way he touched my body. This was a starved man, and he kissed me like my lips were the first drop of ambrosia after a drought. His tongue made sure every inch of skin and lips were attended to.
Dylan's broad hands found my hips as he hoisted me onto the table.
He leaned back to study me, all of me. From my boots to my nose, he took every inch of me in.
“Consent is very important to me, and I should imagine you too. What I'd like to do to you right now requires me to take the lead, if you'd like that. If at any moment you feel uncomfortable or don't want to continue, then I want you to tell me to stop. Understood?”
I nodded slowly as my brain processed exactly what he just told me. Gods, I could only dream what he was going to do to me on this table.
“No nods, Non. I need verbal confirmation.”
Mischief played on my lips. “Yes, Ail Dylan.”
His kiss was bruising as he pushed me down on the table and spread my legs wide.
“Wait!” I shot up.