Chapter 30 #2
Maps and papers scatter. I don’t care. I lean over her, one hand braced beside her head, and look down at her. Her hair is spread across the table. Her chest heaves with each breath. Her lips are swollen from my mouth, eyes dark and dazed and terrified.
But she doesn’t tell me to stop.
“This,” I say, my voice rough. “This is how I hid. This is how I survived. I became the thing they couldn’t resist.”
I drag my mouth down her throat, and she arches into it, a moan escaping before she can bite it back. My hand slides under her tunic, finding bare skin, and she gasps, her stomach contracting under my palm.
“Three hundred years.” I reach for the fastenings of her tunic, and undo them one by one, spreading the fabric open, baring her to me. She makes another sound, and her hands fly up to cover herself. I catch her wrists, and pin them above her head against the table.
“No. You wanted to understand how I survived without them discovering who I was. So understand.”
She stares up at me, her skin flushed, lips parted.
“Thousands of human noblewomen. And not one of them thought to ask what I was called. They only cared about what I could do to them.”
I lower my mouth to her throat, trailing kisses down to her collar bone, to the swell of her breast, my hand sliding up to cup it while my mouth explores. Through the bond, her pleasure builds, fed by my own until I can’t tell where hers ends and mine begins.
I suck her nipple into my mouth and she arches into it, moaning when I nip at the hardened peak, before lifting my head.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes meet mine.
I want to take her. Here, on this table. I want to bury myself inside her, and feel the bond between us catch fire. I want to hear her scream my name. My real name, not the one I gave her.
“This is what I am.” I trail my free hand down her body. Over her throat, her breast, her stomach. She shudders beneath my touch. “This is what they made me.” I watch her face as my hand slides lower, over the fabric of her pants, pressing between her thighs. Her hips jerk.
She’s making sounds now, small desperate noises that she’s trying to swallow. Her back arches off the table, her hands strain against my grip. And through the bond I feel everything. The pleasure building, the shame of responding to me, the fear that never quite goes away.
I lean down and kiss her again, slower this time, drinking in the sounds she makes.
My other hand keeps moving, dipping beneath the pants, finding the wetness between her thighs.
She gives a strangled cry when my fingertips come into contact with that most sensitive part of her, and I swallow it down, while I learn what makes her gasp, what makes her moan.
She’s close. I can feel it. Her body is tight as a bowstring, her pleasure spiraling higher—
“Well, this is new.”
I freeze. Alleria’s eyes fly open, horror flooding through the bond.
Therin is standing just inside the entrance, arms folded, one eyebrow raised. His expression is caught somewhere between amusement and surprise.
“I did call out.” His voice is mild. “Twice. You didn’t answer. Now I see why.”
I straighten slowly, but I don’t move from between her legs, and I don’t pull my hand away. I just look at him, and the fury that was coiling through me redirects and finds a new target.
“Get out.”
“Gladly. But we do need to talk.” His eyes flick to Alleria, sprawled on the table, tunic hanging open, breasts wet from my mouth. “When you’re finished, that is.”
He turns and walks out.
The silence that follows is deafening.
I look down at Alleria. She’s staring at the ceiling, her chest still heaving, her face burning. The bond between us is a mess of emotion—shame, fury, confusion, and underneath it all, the desperate ache of interrupted pleasure.
I step back, and pull my hand away.
She scrambles upright immediately, yanking her tunic closed, fumbling with the fastenings. Her face is burning red, and she won’t look at me.
I need to get out of here. If I stay in this tent, I’m going to put her back on that table and finish what I started … and that wasn’t my intention when I started my demonstration.
“Stay here.” I walk out before she can respond.
Therin is waiting a few paces from the entrance, arms folded, making no effort to hide his amusement.
“Not a word.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” His mouth twitches. “Though I do have questions.”
“Keep them to yourself.”
“For now.” He falls into step beside me as I stalk toward the edge of the camp. “Your temper has been getting worse for days. You’ve been avoiding that female like she’s a plague carrier, and now I walk in on you about to fuck her on the table.”
“What part of ‘not a word’ don’t you understand?”
He snorts, but falls silent. He knows well enough when to push and when to wait.
My jaw clenches. “She wanted to know how I hid under their noses for so long. I showed her.”
“And … did you enjoy showing her?”
I slant him a narrow-eyed glance. He grins at me.
“The magic is doing something to her.”
That makes him lose the smile. “What do you mean?”
“The Nightwild magic is reaching for her.”
“As one of us?”
“Yes.”
“Does Vel know?”
“No.”
“Good.” He nods. “That’s good. Because she’d try to kill her, and you’d have to stop her, and then I’d have to pick a side, and I really don’t want to do that.” He blows out a breath.
“I didn’t choose this.”
“No. The magic chose. I know how it works.” He studies my face. “Is this what’s been eating at you?”
“We need to ride east.” I ignore his question. “I’m done waiting.”
He takes my change of subject in stride. “One of us will have to remain behind to guard the camp.”
“Serath can stay.”
“And … what about the female?”
“She comes with us.”
His eyebrows rise, and he opens his mouth, seems to think better of it, and lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Does she now?”
“You have something to say about it?”
“Several things, actually. None of them useful.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Try to get some rest.” He pauses, and his mouth curves up. “Or don’t. I’m not your mother.”
He walks away, still laughing quietly to himself.
I stand there for a moment, staring east. The threads pull at me, insistent and familiar. My warriors are out there. My people. And I’ve been sitting here for weeks, letting myself get distracted by a human female I should never have touched.
I need to find Serath.
Serath is by the stream, sitting on a rock with her feet in the water. She looks up when I approach, but doesn’t say anything. She’s always been good at reading when I need to speak first.
“You told her who I am.”
“Yes … and no.” She doesn’t need to ask who I’m talking about.
“Why?”
“She asked what Eldráfn meant.” Her head tilts slightly. “I thought it best to lead her toward the Wild Hunt stories that are linked to you, and not the Nightwild Guard. Was it supposed to be a secret?”
I sigh. Trust her to find the heart of the thing.
“She didn’t need to know.”
“She was going to find out eventually. Better it coming from me than Vel.” She rises from her perch, and faces me. “Vel would have enjoyed her fear too much.”
I can’t deny that. “She said that Caelum spoke to her.”
Serath goes still. “What?”
“He spoke to her. Not to me or you or the others. To her.” Anger coils through my chest.
“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Her voice is gentle. “Does it matter who he spoke to, Cairn? It means he’s still in there. That’s what matters.”
She’s right. I know she is.
I shake my head. “Are you well enough to take the lead here? I need to ride east and find the Guard’s warriors that are free.”
In response, she lifts a hand. A gold shimmer dances between her fingers, and water rises from the stream below. It forms into a rain cloud.
Water magic. Serath’s most natural magic affinity.
I eye the swirling little cloud.
“If you’re thinking about drowning me, I’d recommend against it.”
“Would I do that to you, my Eldráfn?” She laughs softly. “In answer to your question, yes I am well enough. And there are soldiers among our camp, who will help protect our people while you’re gone. When will you leave?”
“Dawn. We’ll ride at dawn.”