Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Excerpt from the Veydran Code of Conduct:
Morality is a construct, as fabricated
as the skin you wear.
RIVEN
I can’t catch my breath when she’s around.
She’s so sure. All the time, even when she’s not, she makes decisions and follows through with them.
Last night in the bathroom she was struggling. I saw it because she didn’t bother to hide it. Then she made a choice. It can’t be that simple. I can’t decide who I want to be and make it true, can I? Celine can. She has an iron will, but I’m not so sure about myself.
I’m a veydra: born to lie and trained to kill.
My thoughts consume me, accompanied by the whir of tires on pavement and the subtle hum of the engine.
A tree-shaped piece of cardboard hangs from the rearview mirror, and I watch it swing, letting the rhythmic motion soothe me.
Only when the telltale swirl of nausea swamps my stomach do I focus on the horizon.
Celine stops for food, then we keep going.
It’s mid-afternoon, and the gateway coordinates are close. We should be able to investigate before dark. Although, I’m confident the two of us could poke around anywhere in this realm, night or day, and come out on top no matter what we encountered.
The tires hit gravel as Celine pulls over and faces me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I bit your head off earlier, and while I stand by what I said, there’s something I left out.”
I cock my head. “Don’t hold back on my account, darling.”
“Oh, hush,” she says. “If you’re snarky, I won’t tell you.”
“No snark. I promise.”
“It’s not a big deal, it’s just . . . All those things you said about me; I like how you see me. It makes me feel good. Strong. As if I grew up to be the person I dreamed of becoming, despite everything.”
Warmth rolls through my stomach. I made her feel good, and all I did was tell the truth.
Unsure how to respond and afraid to ruin the moment, I dip my chin and smile.
Celine should hate me. There should be nothing I could do or say that makes her look at me with anything except disgust. She certainly shouldn’t care what I think, but gods, am I glad she does.
I’m tired of worrying about what should or shouldn’t be.
Satisfied with her admission, Celine pockets the keys and gets out of the car. She pops the trunk, unzips her backpack, and retrieves a black rubber band from the front pocket. “If I’m going to wear the air, I can’t have hair on my neck.”
She twists the thick red mass into a complex knot on the top of her head and secures it. I’m used to seeing her hair down or braided for a fight. The bun gives her another three inches of height, and I have the outlandish urge to poke it and see if it’s as sturdy as it appears.
“Don’t judge me.” She slams the trunk. “It’s like wearing a fur coat in hell.”
I show her my palms. “I said nothing.”
“Your face said plenty.”
That surprises me. I’m practiced in masking my emotions, and the amber coating makes it even easier. She’s too confident. Too sure of her ability to read me. I need to disrupt her or do something to put us back on equal footing.
“I thought you looked lovely.”
“An acceptable lie.” She smirks. “Let’s go before we melt.”
“Can I touch it?” I reach for the bun.
She smacks my hand away. “Absolutely not.”
I follow her into the woods, which is compiled of a variety of healthy-looking trees. The thick canopy blocks the direct sun but does nothing to combat the humidity. The ground is covered in pine needles. They muffle the sound of our footfalls, making our hike nearly silent.
Celine has the coordinates on her new phone.
I follow her, finding myself distracted by the way her shoulder muscles move as she walks.
Her neck is graceful and glistening with sweat.
And her ass . . . Her jeans are a second skin, enhancing her curves rather than concealing them.
Combined with the sway of her hips, and—
“You’re staring,” Celine says.
I startle, then smile. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“We’re in a whole new biome, Riven. Surely, there are more interesting things to see than my ass.”
I scoff. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t lie.”
She glances over her shoulder, giving me a glimpse of the lovely flush on her cheeks. It has more to do with heat and exercise than my flirting, but I want to believe I contributed.
If I kissed her, how would she react? If I seized all my courage and pinned her against one of these trees, would she want to finish what we started last night?
I’m obsessed with the idea of altering her, making her so wild for me that her unshakable confidence slips.
Just for a few minutes. I want to be strong enough that she doesn’t have to be. I want her to let go.
My cock hardens uncomfortably in my pants, but for once, I don’t try to redirect my thoughts. I let them roam, imagining how she tastes. She was soaked and unashamed last night—owning her desire. Would she let me own it, too?
I lose all ability to think, sliding my fingers into the waistband of her jeans and pulling her to a stop. Fuck it.
Celine spins, eyes wide, and scans the woods, her forehead bunching in the middle. She thinks we’re in danger, and maybe we are, but I want her. No, I need her. I just don’t know how to tell her. So, I don’t.
I pull her into my chest and work both hands into the back pockets of her jeans. They’re tight, and my hands are big. I lick my lips. “Darling, please . . .”
She gets it. I can see it in her eyes. Thank the gods.
Then she’s kissing me. Standing on her toes, her tongue strokes mine with single-minded determination.
Spinning us both, I pin her to the tree and recreate my fantasy.
A bird squawks, but I ignore it, kicking her legs apart and grinding my thigh against her core until she’s arching into me.
“Can I make you feel good?” I echo what she said to me in the car, and when she nods, I don’t hesitate.
Gripping her waist, I lift her until she’s straddling my thigh, her feet hovering off the ground.
I’m completely in control. Rubbing her pussy against the bunched muscle of my thigh with slow, steady strokes. Her pupils dilate, and she bites her lip.
“Could you come for me like this?”
She grins. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
Such a brat. Her teasing tone sets me on fire, and I increase my speed and pressure, until her jeans and mine are warm and wet.
Celine clutches my shoulders, her fingers spasming as she searches for something to anchor herself to.
One hand ends up in my hair, and the tension on my scalp is indescribably good.
My cock is painfully hard. I want more. I want everything.
But I don’t want it while we’re racing sundown to find a gateway.
She moans the first half of my name, cutting herself off by biting her lip. I frown, a dark, possessive urge rolling through me. I’m making her feel good. She can’t forget it. Can’t hide it. Her pleasure is mine, and I want it all.
“Let me hear you, darling.”
“Make me,” she taunts.
I increase my pressure on the downstrokes until each of her breaths hitches and my forearms burn. Let them. I’m not going to stop until she comes on my thigh. Then, when I know she’s throbbing with an ache only I can ease, I’ll help her find the gateway.
She whimpers and cuts herself off again.
I growl. “There’s no one around. Are you scared to let go?”
Her eyes flash. “I’ve never been scared of you, Riven.”
I shudder. Why do I like that so much? My next stroke draws a fractured cry from her lips, and she squeezes my shoulders as her back arches. “Right there. Right fucking there. Don’t stop. Please.”
I’d rather die. Holding the same pace and pressure, I lock my eyes on her face.
When Celine comes, she melts completely.
Her expression softens; she goes limp in my arms; and there’s nothing between us.
I’m seeing a rare part of her. Too vulnerable to share, it’s intimate and erotic.
I kiss her frantically, and when my own orgasm rolls over me, I can’t even be embarrassed by it.
I stroke her hips with my thumbs, my thoughts spinning faster than I can process.
My hands were on her. She was facing me. Celine knew exactly who was touching her, and she still came.
It’s the first time I’ve brought anyone pleasure in this form.
My heart skips a beat. I put her down and drop my hands from her waist. If I don’t let her go now, I won’t have the strength.
“That was hot.” Celine grabs my shirt with both hands and pulls me down for a kiss. “You made me all messy.” I like that.
Whatever expression is on my face, she clocks it immediately, grinning as if she can see right through me. Maybe she can. I like that, too.
Celine tucks my fingers into her back pocket again and glances over her shoulder. “I like your hands on me.”
Then, as if she didn’t just turn me on all over again, she walks away.
I have to hunch to keep my hand from coming out of her pocket, but I’ll gladly do it, trailing along behind her like a puppy for as long as she’ll let me. I shake my head. I once pitied the others for their obsession with her and now look at me.
If someone tried to hurt her as I did, I would kill them and everyone they’d ever had a pleasant conversation with—
A chill rolls down my spine.
We’re being watched.
The woods are too quiet, devoid of bird sounds or the rustling of small animals. I curse myself for my distraction. I don’t know how long this has been going on. I was too busy getting lost in an angel. And now I’ve put her at risk.
Casually, I move to Celine’s side and work more of my hand into her pocket before bending to kiss her cheek. She glances at me, and her eyes sharpen. Neither of us verbally acknowledge the threat, but we’re in agreement: we need to understand the danger before we decide how to neutralize it.