Chapter 43 #2
His mouth stays on my throat biting and sucking while his fingers torment my breast, and his hips rock against me.
I’m going to shatter. I can feel it building, a hot pressure low in my stomach, tightening with every touch. I’m making sounds I can’t control, keening whimpers that would embarrass me if I could think about anything except how close I am, how much I need—
His hand leaves my breast and reaches down, tugging the laces of my pants loose, so he can shove them down over my hips. The cool air hits my bare skin, and I shiver, but then his hand is there, sliding between my thighs. And I stop breathing entirely.
He groans against my throat at the discovery of how wet I am, a rough sound of satisfaction. He strokes through it, circling the place where I need him most, until I’m writhing beneath him. One of his fingers slides inside me and I arch off the ground with a sound that’s almost a scream.
My fingers fist into his hair, and he laughs against my throat.
“More. Please. I need—”
He gives me another finger, curling them inside me and finding a spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
I’m so close. I’m right there. If he keeps doing that, I’m going to—
“I brought lunch!” The bright female voice cuts through the clearing.
Cairn freezes, his breath hot and ragged against my throat, his fingers still deep inside me.
And then, so fast I barely register the move, he’s pulled his fingers free, rolled to his feet and is walking away. I’m left lying there with my heart pounding, my skin flushed, and my body screaming for a release it isn’t going to get.
I stare up at the sky, struggling to slow my racing heart. My lips feel bruised. My throat stings where he marked me. My body is throbbing with frustrated want, every nerve still firing, waiting for a release that isn’t coming.
I want to drag him back down here and make him finish whatever he started.
I want to scream.
I do scream. A short, sharp sound of pure frustration that sends birds scattering from the branches.
I want to kill whoever interrupted us.
Oh gods. Someone interrupted us.
“I’ll just lay the food out over here.” That same voice speaks again, and I turn my head sideways.
The female is half-turned away from me, holding a basket in one hand and a blanket folded over the other.
I drag my pants up, fix the laces, then tug down my tunic. The female turns, as though she knows I’m more presentable, and the knowing look on her face makes my cheeks burn hotter than they already are.
I recognize her, I think. She’s one of the three who came at Cairn’s call.
“I know how brutal Cairn can be during training.” Her voice is cheerful. Too cheerful. “I thought you might need a break … and food.” She looks in the direction he disappeared. “And then I can give you a … different kind of lesson.”
I don’t move. My body doesn’t feel like mine anymore.
“He just left.” That’s it. That’s all I can say.
“Yes.” She comes closer. “He does that.”
What does that mean? I should ask but I don’t. I just lie here, staring at the sky, and wait for my hands to stop shaking, and my heartbeat to slow down. It doesn’t want to. Every time I breathe, I catch his scent lingering on my skin, and the ache flares fresh.
I can’t lie here forever. I have to move. It takes a couple of attempts but eventually, I sit up properly. The female spreads out the blanket, and unpacks the basket without comment, laying out bread, cheese, fruit, and a skin of water.
When I sit beside her, she hands me the bread, and I take it, tearing off a piece to chew. The motion is automatic. I’m not thinking about the food, I’m thinking about his mouth on my throat, his hand sliding up my ribs, and the way he groaned against my lips.
What was that?
I eat everything she puts in front of me. My body is slowly coming back under my control, the frantic pounding of my pulse settling into something closer to normal.
But the ache between my thighs doesn’t fade.
The female doesn’t speak until all the food is gone, and I’m gulping down the water. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced properly. I’m Vessara.” She stands, and holds out a hand to pull me to my feet. “Are you ready?”
“For what?”
She grins. “Cairn might be able to teach you how to fight, but I can teach you how to disappear.”
Vessara’s training is nothing like Cairn’s.
She doesn’t throw me to the ground or bark commands. She also doesn’t crowd into my space, or put her hands on me. Instead, she gathers up the basket and blanket, and leads me through the village, pointing out things as we walk.
“Most people look at faces,” she explains as we pass a small group near the smithy. “They remember eyes, hair, anything distinctive. So the idea is to make yourself forgettable. Head down, hair forward, walk like you belong, but not like you’re important … Watch.”
Something shifts in her bearing. It’s nothing obvious, and I can’t pinpoint what it is that she does, but suddenly she seems smaller. Less noticeable. My eyes want to slide right past her.
“How did you do that?”
“Practice.” She straightens, and the effect vanishes. “Years of it. You won’t master it today, but we can start with the basics.”
We walk through the village while she corrects my posture, my gait, the way I hold my head. I feel ridiculous, shuffling along like a servant trying not to be noticed. But she’s patient in a way Cairn isn’t, adjusting small things, and making me do it again and again.
“Much better,” she says eventually. “Now … the other half of this is that if you want to go unnoticed, you need to understand what people actually see when they look at each other. What draws attention and what doesn’t.”
We stop at the edge of the inn’s courtyard.
“We’ll sit here for a while. I want you to watch your surroundings, focus on what you think is important.”
My gaze moves around, stopping on a woman carrying an armful of carrots, two men talking by the well, a child chasing a chicken.
“Tell me who you noticed first, and why?” Vessara says a little while later.
“The child, I suppose. She’s moving the most.”
“Good. That’s because movement will always draw the eye. What else?”
“There was a woman in a bright yellow dress.”
“Color. Anything different from its surroundings will stand out. Now, look around again. Who didn’t attract your attention?”
“I don’t … no one?”
“What about him?” She nods her chin toward a man leaning against the wall near the inn’s door. I frown. I have no memory of seeing him before, but he must have been there for a while.
“I … didn’t see him.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I think about it, connecting it to the things she’s explained to me. “He’s not moving,” I say slowly. “His clothes are plain. He’s not doing anything other than standing there.”
“Exactly. And that is what you want to be. The person no one remembers was there.” She waves a hand. “Keep watching. Tell me everything you see. What people are wearing, how they move, what they’re carrying.”
It sounds simple. It takes minutes to discover it really isn’t. I describe a woman’s dress, and miss the basket on her arm. I notice a man’s limp, but not which leg he’s favoring. I watch another child run past and can’t remember the color of his hair moments later.
By the time the sun starts to set, I’m frustrated and tired, and no better at this than when we started. Vessara laughs when I complain.
“You look, but you don’t see. But you’ve never had to, so it is going to take time to change how you think.” She pats my hand. “But you’re trying, Alleria. That’s what matters.”
The door to the inn opens, and Vel walks out. She doesn’t look our way, but I get the distinct impression she’s fighting the urge to turn and spit in my direction.
“She hates me.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.
Vessara follows my gaze. “Yes. She does.”
“Can I do anything to change that?”
“No.” Vessara’s voice is matter-of-fact.
“Do you know her well?”
“She’s my sister. My twin, actually, though we don’t look anything alike.”
I turn to stare at her. Twins? Vel with her sharp edges and cold fury, and Vessara with her easy warmth and quick smiles. It’s hard to believe.
“We got separated just after the Sealing. She was captured. I wasn’t.
” She turns to me. “I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for her, or so you’ll understand her better.
I’m telling you because you need to know that her hatred isn’t yours to fix.
It’s not even about you, not really. You’re simply the shape it’s taking right now. ”
“What if the shape never changes?”
“Then it doesn’t. That’s her burden to carry. Not yours.” She stands. “But know this. She may snap and snarl at you, but she will not harm you. Her loyalty to Cairn won’t allow it.”