11. The Cage of His Love
THE CAGE OF HIS LOVE
Luko was lying back in the front parlor, napping with his mouth open as he quietly snored.
A piece of cheese rested in his hand and a book balanced on his chest. When the front door opened, the cheese slipped from his fingers.
Startled awake, he wiped his mouth, snatched up his book, and shuffled toward the foyer to greet the three returning partygoers.
He stopped in the doorway, assessing quickly, trying to gauge if Malec was in trouble and if Allora was furious.
But it was the opposite. Surian swept in beaming, her arms full of a bag of presents.
Allora looked tired, drained, but calm. And Malec was simply Malec: tall, commanding as always, his gloved hands resting gently on Allora's shoulders.
"Did you all have an awful time?" Luko joked as they looked up at him.
Surian glided past, her face glowing. "You would have actually had a great time if you came.
Everyone was too busy looking at Malec and Allora to gossip.
Seriously, all anyone talked about was those two.
" She laughed lightly, already imagining the invitations that would follow, the parties she and Allora would attend together, how wonderful it would be to have her there.
She disappeared down the hall with a spring in her step, still beaming.
Malec stayed where he was, his hands steady on Allora's shoulders.
He began gently untying the tightly bound strings that held up her dress.
She had complained the whole evening that it was too tight, that the fabric bit into her skin, making her irritable and short-tempered.
By the end, Malec had decided enough was enough.
They would leave early. Allora had been grateful for it, dozing off in the carriage home, only just waking now, still groggy and craving those peach fruits she loved so badly.
As Malec loosened the fabric, he slid his hands to her neck and shoulders, kneading the tension away. She let out a soft moan of relief. He turned her to face him, tilting her chin up, his unsaturated eyes steady and warm.
"You were very good at the party," he told her quietly. "I am pleased with your behavior."
Allora rolled her eyes, muttering a short, sarcastic commentary. Luko chuckled at her response, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll leave you two to it. Going to finish my nap in my room."
It was only about four in the afternoon, but they were all introverts at heart. Except for Allora. Social events drained them quickly.
Malec's chest tightened with the desire to draw her upstairs, to rest with her, but he hesitated. She looked worn down, beaten by the day. He didn't want to push too hard. Still, the hunger in him simmered.
"Did anyone say anything to you that was upsetting?" he asked, his tone low. "Act in a way they shouldn't?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm just tired of playing politics. It's boring and draining and stupid."
His laugh was soft, a low masculine rumble. "This is why I try to shield you from these events. They do nothing that will benefit you."
He lifted her chin again, studying her face. Gods, he wanted to kiss her, achingly so, but he restrained himself. He needed to know if she wanted him close.
So he smiled faintly, trying for lightness, and asked coyly, "Would you like to take a nap? And might I join you? Since you did state I was owed a reward for letting you go."
It was a joke, but only half a joke. He was hoping, desperately, that she would say yes.
Malec followed Allora up the stairs, his steps steady but his eyes ever watchful.
In the quiet of her bedroom, she began removing the heavy layers of clothing from the party.
He moved in to help, but she brushed his hands away with a pointed glance, muttering that she needed to learn how to do it herself or else she would always need someone to untangle her.
He backed up, only slightly, giving her space while still hovering close.
He peeled off his gloves, set aside his coat, and tugged off his boots, savoring the fragile peace between them.
All afternoon at the party he had been on edge, reading every flare of an Awyan's reaction, warding off every glance with his presence.
None had dared approach her except Kirelle.
That one he did not trust. A scheme was forming, and whether Allora was tangled in it he could not yet tell.
She was not syrupy, nor playing coy the way she did when she wanted anything.
Yet she was not fully fighting him either.
He would dig deeper later. For now, he wanted only the feel of her skin beneath his hands, her breath warming the air between them.
She was down to her sheer slip now, tugging at what she mockingly called her "balloon panties.
" She struggled with the ties, nearly losing her balance until Malec reached forward, steadying her with his hands.
She looked up at him then, caught in his grasp, and he murmured, "Be careful, dove.
Lay back. I will take them off for you."
Suspicion narrowed her eyes, but a smirk curved her lips as she eased back on the bed. He knelt over her, his fingers deft as they untied the knots, sliding the garment off her body with an ease that made her raise a brow.
"Well," she teased, laughter curling in her voice, "aren't you an expert? You must have practiced this a lot to be so good at it."
Malec's hands stilled. For a moment he didn't move, only let the fabric slip from his fingers. His gaze lifted slowly to hers, faded amber eyes catching the low light, sharpened with intensity.
“I have never undressed another,” he said, voice low and measured with a dangerous edge.
“Not once.” He leaned forward, bracing his weight on one arm as if the words carried weight of their own.
"Every knot and fold I have learned, I learned on you, Allora.
Every slip of fabric I have taken from your body, I remember.
It is only you. It has always only been you. "
The playfulness faltered in her smirk, she started to reply but no words came out.
His gaze lingered, relentless, and his fingers brushed down the length of her thigh, as if to brand his vow into her skin.
He bent closer, his breath warm against her cheek.
"Do not jest of others, dove. There are no others. There will never be."
Allora groaned, rolling her eyes. "Why are you always so serious? You need to lighten up." She shoved him back playfully, planting her bare foot squarely against his chest.
Malec caught her ankle before she could pull away, pressing a deliberate kiss to the arch of her foot. She yelped and threw a pillow at him, laughter breaking through her annoyance. He caught it easily, smiling crookedly.
"You must rid yourself of this habit, dove," he chided, voice almost amused. "Throwing things like a toddler."
She snorted. "I only act like one because you treat me like one."
His smile lingered as he slid beneath the covers, dragging her into his arms despite her token resistance.
She didn't fight, only let her body be pulled against the hard wall of his frame.
His breath warmed the crown of her head as his hand swept down the curve of her hip, and all the while his mind pressed against the tether, reaching for her emotions.
Exhaustion. Subtle annoyance. But threaded through both, a prickle of emotion flashing on the edges of her mind. Anticipation? Or was it anxiety?
What are you planning, Allora?
He smoothed a hand down her back as though soothing her, but his voice was mild when he asked, "How did you and Kirelle become such good friends overnight? I thought you hated her."
Allora stiffened, just slightly. She hadn't expected him to probe; she thought he had wanted a nap.
"At Surion's stupid party we talked," she muttered. "About feeling caged. We found common ground." She paused, lips twisting. "Kirelle is a sneaky, conniving skank, but she was pushed into that life. It isn't her fault."
Malec hummed an acknowledgment. It was truth, one he already knew.
But the fact that Allora had read Kirelle's nature so quickly unsettled him yet astonished him.
His hand traced idle circles along her hip as he pressed further, his voice soft but unrelenting.
"And what else did you talk about, dove?
Did she tell you of her father's ambitions?
Of her brother? What promises were exchanged between you? "
His questions slipped one after another, deceptively calm but edged with steel. He needed to know what web Allora had allowed herself to be drawn into, whether she was the spider weaving or the fly.
Allora tilted her head, studying him with narrowed eyes. "Wait… do you mean the fact that Kirelle's family is pushing her to sleep with you? Just to get a child out of you? She told me that."
Malec's lips curved faintly, and he gave a single nod.
The faintest smile tugged at his mouth as he looked at her.
So she had spoken of him. Even to Kirelle.
A warmth stirred in his chest at the thought.
His little bird talking about him, knowing details he had never put into words.
It made him feel seen, in a way he rarely allowed himself.
But what else did she know?
"Their father seeks a child from my blood," Malec said evenly. "From me, or from Surian. It is a matter of power, of lineage. He pushes his daughter and son both to breed with us. It is normal, in our society. But it is nothing I would ever be part of."