13. Kai’rin
13
KAI’RIN
T he clash of steel against steel rings through the training yard as Vhex lunges at me. My movements lack their usual precision - my mind keeps drifting to brown eyes and waves of dark hair. To soft prayers whispered in the courtyard. To submission freely given.
"When'd you stop being a challenge?" Vhex's gravelly laugh breaks through my thoughts. His amber eyes gleam with malicious delight as he presses his advantage, forcing me back a step.
Mykael circles us, his calculated gaze taking in every misstep. "Perhaps his little human has worn him out."
My wings snap out, sending a gust of wind across the yard. The reminder of Aren - of how I left her kneeling in prayer this morning when I wanted to bend her over and sink into her - ignites something primal in my chest. My magic surges, violet light crackling along my arms.
"Careful." I catch Vhex's next strike with my blade, metal screaming. "You're treading dangerous ground."
But Vhex, ever the provocateur, bares his teeth in a feral grin. "What's wrong, Kai? Can't handle a little teasing about your pet?"
The rage that's been simmering all morning explodes. I move faster than Vhex can track, sweeping his legs and pinning his sword arm behind his back. One sharp twist and I feel the tendons strain. His grunt of pain is deeply satisfying.
"Say another word about her." I increase the pressure until he stills. "I dare you."
Mykael's boots scrape against stone as he steps back, green eyes widening slightly. Smart man.
I release Vhex with a shove, my blood still burning. The need to return home - to see her, touch her, claim her - claws at my insides. These hours of separation grow more intolerable by the day.
Vhex rotates his shoulder with a wince. "Fuck, point taken."
The silence that follows is thick with tension. My wings mantle aggressively, daring either of them to break it. The violence thrumming through my veins demands an outlet, but my thoughts keep circling back to Aren. To the way she yields so beautifully. To how badly I want to test the limits of that submission.
"I'm done." I turn from them, stalking away from the training ring as I call over my shoulder, "Tomorrow, only show up if you can focus on the fight."
Maybe I should tell myself that.
The walk home does little to clear my head. I stalk through my front door, the rage from training still simmering beneath my skin. The house feels different with her in it - warmer somehow, filled with an energy that draws me in. Her scent hits me first - jasmine and sunlight.
"Little flame?"
Aren appears from the kitchen, a smile teasing her lips. And fuck, it does something to me.
Immediately she comes over to me. Dark waves spill over her shoulder as she moves to help me remove my armor. Her fingers work the buckles with practiced ease.
"You're tense today." Her voice carries that quiet strength I can never quite break.
"Training." I roll my shoulders as she slides the chest piece off. The brush of her hands against my skin sends electricity down my spine.
A knock at the door interrupts us just as she finishes, taking everything to go clean it. My jaw clenches - I know that particular pattern of raps.
"Enter."
Vhex and Mykael stride in like they own the place. Their eyes immediately find Aren, tracking her movements as she continues cleaning my armor. Something dark and possessive coils in my gut.
"Thought we'd continue our discussion from earlier." Mykael's calculating gaze lingers too long on Aren.
"I thought I made myself clear."
He raises a brow. "I think you need to hear what I have to say."
"Without a fucking blade aimed at me," Vhex adds.
Aren moves to pass between us with my armor. My hand shoots out, fingers circling her wrist in a grip that makes her stumble. She doesn't cry out, but I feel her pulse jump beneath my thumb.
"Stay where I can see you." The words come out as a growl.
Vhex's amber eyes gleam with interest. "Protective today, aren't we?"
My wings flare slightly, casting shadows across the room. Aren remains perfectly still in my grasp, though I can feel the slight tremor in her arm. The perfect submission only feeds the possessive hunger growing inside me.
"Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere." Mykael's tone is neutral, but his attention keeps drifting to where my fingers dig into Aren's delicate skin.
"Perhaps you should get the fuck out."
Mykael raises a brow, but Vhex only laughs, shaking his head. He clasps me on the shoulder and turns to leave. "Oh, I think that early discussion has only been further proven." Mykael follows him out with a disapproving glare.
I grind my teeth as they go, not wanting to let go of Aren. She turns to me, her eyes scanning over my face. And then, instead of asking or fighting me or insulting me, she just says, "Hungry?"
I turn, moving to the table as she puts away the armor. When she comes up next to me, I know I want her closer. I need her like I've never needed anything.
"Kneel." The command slips from my lips as I settle at the dining table. Aren sinks gracefully to her knees beside my chair, her movements fluid from weeks of practice. The dark waves of her hair cascade down her back, tempting my fingers.
Steam rises from the meal she prepared - roasted nighthawk with ember root. I reach for my cup, but my hand diverts to her hair instead. The silken strands slip between my fingers. She stiffens for a heartbeat before relaxing into the touch.
"Feed me."
Her eyes widen slightly - this is new. But she reaches for the plate without hesitation, selecting a piece of meat and lifting it to my lips. The intimacy of the act stirs something dangerous in my chest.
I capture her wrist before she can withdraw, pressing my mouth to her pulse point. Her breath catches. "Good girl."
The praise falls unbidden from my tongue. I should be finding new ways to break her, to shatter that quiet dignity she maintains. Instead, my touch gentles as I card my fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.
I do like her submission. But maybe I don't need her broken to get it. I do like how she does everything for me eagerly.
She continues feeding me, each movement precise and measured. The firelight catches the olive undertones in her skin, highlighting the delicate curve of her throat. My other hand traces idle patterns on her shoulder.
"You're being unusually compliant today, little flame." The words come out rougher than intended.
"Would you prefer resistance?" A hint of defiance colors her tone.
I tighten my grip in her hair, but not enough to hurt. "I prefer you exactly as you are."
The admission surprises us both. Her deep brown eyes meet mine, searching. I should punish such boldness. Should remind her of her place. Instead, my thumb brushes her bottom lip.
She trembles under my touch, but doesn't pull away. The power I hold over her in this moment is intoxicating - more so because she yields willingly rather than from fear.
My wings curl forward unconsciously, creating a dark canopy above us. Shielding her. Claiming her. The possessive gesture is instinctive, primal.
My cock hardens at the sound, remembering how she knelt before me in the temple, how my name fell from her lips like sacred verse. It makes me want more, want her submission and her begging.
I want everything she has.
Her dark hair spills down her back like ink, framing her gorgeous face. I push my hand through it, tugging her head a little farther back so I can stare into her eyes.
I want to hear my name on her tongue again, wrapped in that same reverence she showed in the temple. That is what I crave - not just her body, but a willing surrender of her spirit. The way she transforms my name into something sacred while maintaining that core of steel I can never quite break.
I want all of her, even the parts she doesn't want to give up.
And I intend to take them.