Chapter Four #5
She dashed to the staircase on the left, parallel to the other set along the smooth walls and started up them.
He worried she wished to go up the hundred-something steps and leave him starving at the bottom.
He’d have to wait for her, since she still didn’t have clearance or know her way around.
She stopped after only a dozen or so steps. Thank gods.
Sera leaned over the railing, angling her head to view down into the chamber.
Kieran’s eyes went wide, his gaze snapping over her shoulder.
The shadow was still a translucent mass, though his heart had leapt into his throat until he was assured she wouldn't fall to her death.
He doubted he could have reached her in time to break her fall.
“The design of this place is incredible.” She yelled so her voice echoed off the walls and then chased her words with laughter. The lilting melody bounced off the stone all the way to his chest.
She yelled out nonsense, displaying obvious amusement at the resulting echo of garbled noise.
Kieran had not expected such a pure display of wonder. Not from the seasoned vixen who drew her foot up his leg or beckoned with her eyes at every turn.
Sera raced back down the stairs, bounding up to him. “You try,” she instructed, breathless and the cream of her cheeks flushed to a becoming pink.
“No, thank you.” He would not succumb to her charm. It was in her best interest that he remain indifferent.
However, Sera wasn’t satisfied with his answer.
She took his arm—thankfully, he felt nothing through the armor of his coat sleeve—and led him to the top railing along the tiered seating.
The chamber opened below them as she hooked her arm through his.
Her chest heaved with elation and he couldn’t help wondering if she chose such a dress for moments like this, when the sight of her might incite temptation.
The tactic wasn’t necessary. The sincere mirth in her raven eyes ensnared readily enough.
“Come now, it feels good. I know there’s all sorts of repressed shit bottled up in there.” She let him go and turned to face him, with her back to the railing so she could lean on it while she pointed to his chest. “Let it out.”
She did not know what she was asking. However, he wanted this entire interlude to end. He tilted his head, so his eyes remained on her while he firmly said to the room, “No.”
Sera frowned as the single, low note dropped to silence. Kieran glanced out at the chamber. She had sent sound ricocheting off the walls. His attempt was rather pathetic in contrast. That had been his intent and yet, why did his pitiful echo leave him dissatisfied?
He was silently reflecting on this when she spoke.
“Your coworkers don’t like you,” Sera offered, unhelpfully. “They think you’re cold and rude.”
This was not news. “And?”
“And I think they’re wrong.”
His full attention returned to her, drawn to her tone and elusive gaze. What was she playing at? Was she trying to pay him a compliment? Seemed unlikely.
She slid along the railing, forcing his hands to retreat or risk collision with her hips. Sera seized his reaction to weasel between him and the railing. Ah. The Game.
The intent was to prompt a visible reaction from him through physical stimulation. He would not lose easily, even to someone as beautiful as Sera.
If he retreated, if he took a step back to allow space between them, then he would lose. Perhaps he should. If he lost, then her Game would end. Which was the wiser, more reasoned course.
He felt every muscle, every nuanced twitch in the nothing between them.
He did not retreat. Not because he was particularly competitive; strategic loss was often necessary for the desired outcome.
Retreat was the logical, prudent choice, but he let time pass and draw on for far too long for the singular chance that he might feel her skin beneath his again.
The truth of the matter was, that he did not want to stop.
Did not want to resist her. Did not want to be practical or altruistic.
But those were whims. Desire easily managed.
She would not be safe if he stopped resisting, and he had always understood that his happiness was impossible while fulfilling his purpose in this world.
“And I think.” She reach for his waistcoat, slipping thin fingers between the buttons.
“You’re far from cold.” She bit her lip, angling her head to appear coy when she was clearly the very definition of brazen.
“See,” she let her nails play at the fabric of his shirt, beneath the waistcoat, forcing friction against his chest, “warm.”
Kieran’s gaze did not falter. He could beat her challenge, indulge it for this moment.
He locked his features and mentally let the scene play out.
Spinning so her back was flush with the smooth walls of the Spire.
Taking her teasing wrist and pinning it to the brick.
Using the solid surface to bear her weight while he pulled her thighs around him.
The satin feel of her dress hitched to her waist. His lips drawing down the delicate curve of her chin until she shivered.
Sera narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”
He let out a controlled breath. In his mind, they were nearly done and she was screaming his name. “I’m playing the Game,” he said, unmoving.
She was skilled at this, but he had a lifetime of perfecting control. Detachment was simple. Logic and reason were often enough to keep him grounded. In situations of high stress or temptation, chasing out impulses in his mind meant he could remain in control on the outside.
She was out of her depth. Kieran was not easily—
Her lips were warm and wet against the inside of his wrist. When had she grabbed his arm?
His breath caught for an imperceptible second as tongue chased lips, warm pleasure easing over his skin.
They were at his place of work. Anyone might catch them.
Sera continued drawing wicked patterns over the pulse in his wrist. He attempted to focus more intently on the fantasy of Sera, when the barest scrape of teeth wrenched him back to reality.
Her fingers slipped below his cuffs, her skin and lips erupting currents of sensation.
He refused to close his eyes. All his focus shifted to breathing. In and out. Control. Control. Con—
Her tongue darted up his palm so her lips could close around a fingertip.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
In a quick, sudden motion she sucked his forefinger deep into her mouth, chasing the motion with a throaty moan of satisfaction.
Just give in.
Kieran was at war, though he was using every faculty available to hide it. There was no fantasy and reality, no retreating to where the implications of Sera’s masterful seduction intended. Fissures in his indifference were forming.
Sera pulled away, letting her tongue stroke and glide before looking up at him under long, dark lashes. If this did not end, he would lose this round.
That was unacceptable.
“Admitting defeat yet?” She cooed. “I can feel your pulse, you know.” She still maneuvered his hand, returning her lips to his wrist.
Kieran had managed to keep his face neutral. Internally, however, his thoughts were becoming a garbled mess, and he was fighting the urge to swallow so that he could ease the desert in his mouth.
He pulled his arm from her grip and made a show of wiping it on a cloth from his pocket. Her eyes were narrowed, like she didn’t fully buy his performance. “I told you, I’m not so easily defeated.”
He held the cloth out to her. “Your lipstick is smudged.”
She refused the offer, staring at him with pure challenge.
Kieran was not competitive. But he had to keep her from winning.
Her victory would be marked by his caving to this scandalous Game and he feared that end.
Feared an unknown version of Kieran who indulged in whim and forsook measured calculation.
He was not entirely sure what that Kieran was capable of, and he wasn’t willing to find out.
Kieran set his thumb against her bottom lip, pressing softly, but firmly enough to part her mouth. He ignored the magnetic pull of her skin, the desire to linger and touch her and possibly forget games.
“Allow me,” he offered, as he swiped at perfectly clean skin, quickly removing his hand to break contact.
He leaned like he might chase the gesture with his tongue.
The idea was not unappealing, but he was trying to win, not seduce.
All he needed was a reaction and if he went too far, Sera was likely to act impulsively and he was likely to let her.
Her eyes flickered closed and she leaned to meet him. For a single heartbeat, Kieran stared down into her beautiful, inviting face. Memorized the soft lines of her mouth, the curves of her cheeks, the delicate sweep of her closed eyes.
He stared and allowed a singular second to indulge in the fantasy of tasting her.
And—while she was lost in her own amorous daydream—he wet his lips and pulled away. He dropped his arm back to his side. Schooled his features to appear indifferent.
When she opened her eyes, her body still pressed against him, standing on her tip-toes to reach him, she blinked several times.
“I… wait.” Sera started to pull away and his eyes followed her every motion. Shaky fingers smoothed her hair. Her posture shifted. Emotions danced on her face entirely unrestrained.
“I believe we established that I am allowed to play,” he said, not unkindly.
At least, he didn’t mean it to be unkind.
“Is that a draw then, Miss Blair?” He used the proper endearment to rile her and also to spare her.
The last time he had called her ‘Seraphina’ the scent of her arousal hit him square in the face.
He could not have endured that at the moment.
He needed to end this Game. Now.
“And,” he added, “I believe there were meant to be rules.”
Rules? The only ‘rule’ required was a total forfeit on both ends. But she was still pressed against him, still breathing heavily, the want and need still warred in her eyes. His pathetic echo from earlier teased and taunted like he’d not only abstained from fun, he forgot it entirely.
“Fine. What sort of rules?” She asked, drawing him back to the conversation.
He should say, ‘the rule is that we stop this before it gets out of hand.’ But for the last ten minutes he had thought of nothing outside this room.
Nothing outside of her and the feel of her skin and all the ways he wished he could touch her.
For the last ten minutes he was blessedly and completely distracted.
What he said was, “No sex.”
Sera’s mouth fell open.
He might as well commit. “This will not go further than teasing. No clothing removed.”
She set a finger on his chest. “What about touch?”
He fought to keep his pulse steady, warring with a rush of impulses that he refused to entertain. “I would say not below the belt, but I suspect you’d argue the matter.”
“You are correct,” she purred.
“Then no more out in the open—”
She scoffed. “The entire point is to rattle you when you least expect it. It’s hardly an exercise in control if we’re secluded where you could easily give in, should you wish to.
” The sweep of her eyes over his face suggested that she wished he would lose control.
For half a heartbeat, he wondered why he didn’t.
“I have to work here, Sera. If we are caught there will be consequences to my life. This is non-negotiable.”
“Fine. Not in public.”
He drew further away. The room felt much colder, a different cold than simple air temperature. He adjusted his clothes, smoothing everywhere her wandering hands had ravaged. “Now, I have a meeting in an hour. If I don’t eat, I won’t get the chance. No more detours.”
She left him in peace, mercifully, until he reached the end of the day and it was time to return home.
Hours of monotonous meetings and his little escapade with Sera had reduced his reasoning to mere reaction.
She had asked something about going into some shops, perhaps in the South Market district that they passed to get home.
If he wasn’t completely done with the day and not at all ready for more of Sera’s singular company just then, he may have offered to escort her.
Instead, he’d agreed to whatever she requested.
He had enough presence of mind to offer her fare and some ‘wages’ so that she would not wind up stranded, but then he had intended to return home and turn his brain off for a few hours.
But, alas, peace forever eluded him. He absently watched Sera hail a cab and climb inside.
While he waited for his personal carriage to be brought around, he did another cursory check of the shadow trailing her.
But as she stepped up into the carriage, the translucent form solidified, grew, and took on a vaguely monstrous shape.
This is why he did not indulge pleasures or dalliance. He could not afford to let his attention slip for a single moment or lives were at risk.
He watched the cab depart with detached resignation.
It was not going to be a night of rest after all.