Chapter 31
When Lea woke, it was still dark. She felt groggy, but her headache had diminished to a manageable ache. Kallias’s arms cradled her, holding her close to him. She reveled in the pleasure of his touch.
Then, unpleasant reality intruded as she remembered their last conversation. Kallias was going to leave for an undefined length of time. She wouldn’t know where he was or if he was safe. It could be weeks, months before they were reunited.
Her chest squeezed at the thought, but it was the only way to secure their future.
Nevertheless, that meant she had precious few hours to spend with him. Dawn would be here all too quickly, and then he’d be gone.
“Are you awake?” she breathed.
He traced a hand up her arm. “Yes. Does your head pain you? Do you want another drop of the poppy?”
“No.” She rolled over, still in his embrace. Her hands found his chest, warm and solid in the dark. He might not be as burly as a gladiator, but his quiet, careful strength was all she needed. “It’s you I want, Kallias.”
If this was to be their last night together, she wasn’t going to waste it.
Her lips found his. She meant the kiss to be slow, gentle, but the first brush of his warm mouth sparked a desperate hunger, a craving for something she knew would soon be taken away.
He kissed her back, a hand gently sliding into her hair on the unwounded side of her head.
His other hand cupped her cheek, before his fingers trailed down her neck.
The touch on the sensitive skin of her throat sent a cascade of shivers over her.
It was so nice to feel a pleasurable sensation in her body, after a day when it seemed only capable of producing discomfort.
Desire swelled inside her, and her fingers wandered down his stomach—but he caught her hand before she could reach her destination.
“You’re wounded,” he said, his voice unsteady. “And the poppy…you’re not yourself.”
“Yes, I am.” This wasn’t like the dreamfish, when she’d been floating and out of control.
Her eyes searched for his in the dark, and she touched his cheek, fingers sliding over the rasp of stubble that had arisen.
Her thumb brushed his lips, and his breath caught.
His tongue flicked out to taste her fingers.
Then he was atop her, urgent hands fumbling with the tunic she wore, dragging it up to her hips. Her heart raced as he palmed between her legs, finding the place she ached. He gave her a few teasing strokes, so light she shifted restlessly, seeking more.
He climbed down her body until he was crouched between her legs.
His hands brushed the inside of her thighs, coaxing them to open wider.
He lowered his head until she could feel the warm puff of his breath on her most intimate skin.
She tensed in anticipation. “Kallias,” she said, voice strained. “Please.”
In a shock of slick heat, his mouth covered her.
His tongue laved from her apex to her entrance, then back again, and he closed his lips around her most sensitive spot.
Lea’s back arched, thighs closing around his head to trap him there.
Her hand shot down to tangle in his glossy hair, anchoring him to her.
He stroked soothing hands down the backs of her tense thighs. “Relax, Lea,” he murmured, lifting his face from her. “I’m going to give you what you want. You don’t have to fight for it.”
She exhaled and let her thighs fall open, loosening her grip on his hair. He resumed his attentions to her swollen sex, licking and sucking and nibbling. She allowed the sensations to wash over her, to rise and swell, trusting him to give her what she needed.
The climax burst over her in a powerful, wracking wave. She cried out, shuddering against him. His mouth continued working her, wringing more spasms from her until she breathlessly begged him to stop.
He gathered her into his arms, easing himself down onto the bed behind her. She was quivering from the force of the climax, her heart still pounding.
“Shh,” he whispered, caressing her back in slow, calming movements. “Easy, my love.”
She allowed his voice and his touch to calm her. The sharp edges of the pleasure that had overwhelmed her softened, turning into something hazy and comforting.
But there was still more she needed from him. She rolled over, facing him, and swept her hands down his body until she found what she was looking for. He hissed when she wrapped her hand around his cock. The tip was already slippery with the evidence of his desire.
“Lea,” he groaned. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”
She smiled, though she wasn’t sure if he’d be able to see her expression in the dark. “I’m already hurt. Unless you have some very unusual ideas, I don’t think there’s much you can do that’s worse than a shield bashing into my head.”
He let out a short laugh. “When you put it that way…” He rolled atop her. “I’m going to be gentle,” he warned her as he positioned himself at her entrance. “No unusual ideas whatsoever.”
She let out a sigh of mock-disappointment. “I suppose I can tolerate that. Just this once.” Despite her flippant words, tonight all she wanted was the soft intimacy of a simple coupling.
He eased inside her, as gently as he’d promised. His entry caused residual pleasure to flicker. Her breath quickened, and she tightened her legs around his hips, drawing him closer.
He was moving much too slowly. “More,” she begged. “More. I need all of you.”
He made an approving noise and lowered his head to kiss her forehead, though he still held his body carefully over hers, not letting her take his weight. “Your begging has improved, sweetheart. You were terrible at it the first time.”
She scoffed. Despite his praise, he still wasn’t giving her what she wanted, and she canted her hips in a fruitless attempt to entice him deeper. Then, she wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened them hard.
He sank all the way in with a helpless gasp.
She grinned with satisfaction. “I didn’t promise to be gentle.”
With a defeated groan, he laid his forehead against the bed near her shoulder. His hips rocked into hers in slow, gentle movements. At first, she wanted to chide him once more for going too slowly.
Then she noticed how the new angle of connection sparked delicious friction, building another wave of pleasure. A moan slipped from her lips. “Just like that,” she managed. “Don’t—don’t stop.”
“Are you going to come again for me, sweetheart?”
“I-I think so…” Her voice grew high and breathy. She grasped his shoulders, seeking his solidity to ground her as everything dissolved into shifting, dizzying pleasure once more. She clung to him, helpless to the onslaught of pleasure.
Kallias buried his face into the curve of her neck, uttering a low foreign curse. He moved faster now, his urgency ignited by her climax, and moments later he was shuddering atop her as he buried himself deep one final time.
He rolled off her, breathless and trembling. She tucked herself against his body, and his arm came up to cradle her to him.
Melancholy hovered at the edges of her mind, but she didn’t allow herself to give into it just yet. Their time was running out, the last grains of sand slipping through the hourglass, but for now, he was still here. Still hers.
“My headache is almost completely gone,” she murmured against his chest. “You really are the best physician in the city.”
He gave a weary chuckle. “Shame I can’t offer all my patients that remedy.”
They lapsed into silence. Lea must have fallen into a doze, lulled by the lingering effects of the poppy and the contentment wrought by their coupling.
She woke to Kallias stroking her hair.
“It’s nearly dawn,” he whispered. “I need to leave.”
She raised herself into a sitting position. Every fiber in her being urged her to protest, to think of something, anything, that would allow him to stay here with her. But her mind was empty.
He rose from the bed, donned his tunic, and gathered his things into his satchel. She gingerly stood, and he wrapped her in a tight embrace.
“Be careful,” she whispered. It was the only thing she could trust herself to say without collapsing into a weeping, pathetic mess. She could already feel tears pressing behind her eyes, threatening the return of her headache.
He kissed her, first her mouth, then her forehead, his lips tender and reverent. “I will come back,” he said. “I swear it.” His words had the weight not just of a promise, but of an oath, something binding and unbreakable. “In return, I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
His gaze turned from devoted to stern. “No fighting,” he said firmly.
“You need to rest. Your wound is going to heal fairly quickly, but inside”—he brushed a hand over her forehead—“will take longer. I’ll leave the poppy with you for the headaches.
” He gestured to the tiny vial, still sitting on her table. “Only a drop or two at a time.”
His care made her smile, despite the pain gripping her heart. Of course his final words to her would chide her not to rush her recovery. “I promise.”
She gave him one last hug, then forced herself to release him and stepped back. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, gave her one last glance filled with longing, then opened her door and disappeared.