Chapter Twenty-Three Adela #2
Which feels even scarier. Her power is so volatile in my hands, so destructive. My success will result in danger and damage. I hate to admit even to myself that I question the great goddess, but tonight the phoenix magic doesn’t feel like a blessing. It feels like a weapon I cannot wield safely.
Across from me, Ulric laughs just as he takes a sip of soup, half choking as Kian tells one of his ridiculous stories of childhood—something about trying to catch a miniature pig in a busy market.
I’m not listening closely, just letting my eyes and mind wander.
I watch them laughing together, and I admire the curve of Kian’s neck, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he teases his friend.
He’s so beautiful. Sharp edges and polished, just like the rest of the order, with his dark, braided hair, gold earrings and rings, and a hint of his tattoo peeking out from beneath his robe’s neckline.
But I admire more than his beauty. I admire the way he finds reasons to laugh, the reverence with which he met the dead, the way he tried to defend me against Linden, and how he stepped away when I told him to stop.
He’s so alive. Such a contrast to our day.
I cannot stay in my head like this for another moment. I need to be fully present in my body. Kian can help. I stand up from my spot on the table. The moment I move, his eyes are on mine.
His dark lashes lower, and his full lips curve up. He recognizes my want. He stands, ready to meet me, and says a perfunctory goodbye to a chuckling Ulric.
We only make it a handful of steps before he pulls me down a short hall and into an alcove.
He takes off our phoenix skulls, setting them aside on the floor.
Then he kisses me roughly as his hands roam my body.
His lips move to my neck, and he laces his fingers through my hair, tugging gently so I move my head aside for easier access.
All of my difficult thoughts and feelings flee.
I rub my body against him, loving the way I make him hard, the sounds my movements pull from his lips. Our pleasure echoes, magnified by the slick marble surrounding us.
I close my eyes, enjoying the sensations, and he spins me around. He pulls me back by my hips, so my butt is pressed firmly against him as he bends over me. His belly and chest press into my back, and his hand twines in my hair, his lips and tongue and teeth tease me, trailing across my shoulder.
With his free hand, he reaches around my body to grab my breast, finding my hardening nipple with his thumb. I moan and open my eyes.
I gasp. Not with pleasure but in shock.
We’re not in some nook, but in the balcony of the empty temple sanctuary. A thick marble railing is in front of me, but beyond that is nothing but the open eaves of the sacred space. No wonder our moans echo.
“Kian!” I whisper.
The sanctuary seems deserted, thank the Spinner, but it has numerous entrances. Other balconies on our level, as well as half a dozen doorways below. Anyone could walk into any part of it at any time. Part of me is horrified, the other aroused.
He finally pauses his kisses and notices he’s lost some of my attention. He chuckles and nips at my shoulder. “As if we are the first to do this, in this space. It is practically the Huntress’s favorite way to receive worship.”
She is the goddess of bodies. Death. Violence. Dancing. Strength. Sex.
He continues to kiss and touch me, one hand pulling me impossibly closer as he grinds himself against my ass. The other trails down my leg in order to pull up my robes.
He reaches between my thighs and finds me naked and wet. I fail to hold back my moans; his fingers are too deft, and too insistent. His breath is hot in my ear as he dips a finger into me. “Put your hands on the railing, Goddess.”
I do immediately. My palms have barely touched the black marble when he drives himself inside me. He stretches me, but I don’t ask him to pause and let me adjust. I thrust my hips back into him, enjoying the fullness. He reaches around me, rubbing me as he moves.
I am bliss.
He laughs, and I love the way his voice, thick with desire for me, surrounds us. “Do you like that?”
“More” is all I manage. He gives me what I’ve demanded, rubbing at me while he pounds into me. The pressure inside me builds, coiling and sharpening until I shatter. My cry of ecstasy echoes through the sanctuary.
When my orgasm ebbs, I expect him to stop stroking me and focus on his own pleasure, but he does not remove his clever fingers from me. I feel the pressure building again, but surely I don’t have another climax in me.
Kian obviously believes otherwise.
“Again,” he demands into my hair.
I oblige, twitching and bucking, loving the way he strokes me inside and out. Again the orgasm slows. This time he removes his fingers and begins to slide out of me.
I push back into him, twisting to see him over my shoulder. “But you… I want…” Words are hard, but he knows what I want.
“We’ll get to me.” He drops to his knees and uses his hands to spread me. “But I am not done with you quite yet. Once more, Goddess.”
He licks at me for a mere handful of moments before I’m once again at the peak. I come again, pressing my body onto his face and screaming his name into the sacred space before me.
When my spasms finally cease, he gives me a small kiss on each butt cheek and sits back on his heels, laughing. He’s proud of himself, and he should be. He has done excellent work.
He stands and holds his hand out to me, half turning as if to go.
“Oh, no. I am not done,” I say, echoing him, and drop down onto my knees. I push his robes up and the waistband of his pants down, releasing his cock. I take it in my mouth, tasting myself on him.
I hum with pleasure, moving my mouth up and down his deliciously shaped cock, then lick at the underside of his head.
I work my hand up and down as well, stroking him in time with my mouth.
He begins to thrust carefully, and I shove my head down harder on him until our combined motions are fast and messy with desire.
He comes, hard and fast, growling his pleasure and filling my mouth. I feel a rush of pride and swallow the proof of how good I’ve made him feel.
After we have finished straightening our robes and fetched the phoenix skulls, we hurry through the temple back to our rooms. I think we will say goodnight, but he passes his own door and joins me. He strips down the moment the door closes and pulls my robe off me.
“I don’t have a round two in me. Yet.” My legs still wobble slightly from the three amazing orgasms of round one. “But I’ll do my best to rally.”
He lies in my narrow bed, pulling with him. He traces his fingertips across my bare back. “No round two yet. Just this. This is lovely.”
“I need a bigger bed.” I am half on top of him and must be squishing him.
He scoffs. “Good luck with that. Only the most blessed holies are allowed suites with larger beds. The rest of us get the barracks.”
“The most blessed holies?”
He freezes, like he’s a child I caught stealing a honey cake from the kitchens before dinner. It’s so quick I almost think I’ve misjudged the pause. “A silly name my family used to call members of the orders. Holies. Not very respectful.”
I wave that away. I’m not worried what mildly derogatory name he calls the order members, especially when he’s one himself. “But what does the most blessed mean? Who gets more or less blessings? Are these blessings bestowed by the Huntress?”
He snorts. “They’re bestowed by Sarai to whomever she fancies at the moment.”
Sometimes it seems as if he actively dislikes the order. But surely not. He’s dedicated his entire life to it.
He continues, “Usually her favors go to those with powerful skull matches, or those with powerful families. But basically her favorites are whoever kisses her ass the best, like Roberta. And Thad before he got himself eaten. You can tell the favorites easily. The more gems, the more ‘blessed’ the holy.”
He traces my shoulder blades, and I shiver, but I can’t get past what he’s just said. The Huntress’s blessings should not be bestowed according to the whims of the high priestess. That isn’t how it’s supposed to work.
And it’s not who High Priestess Sarai is. She’s warm and caring and supportive. Surely she wouldn’t bestow favors based on such shallow, self-centered reasons.
I turn my face toward him. “It doesn’t sound fair.”
He begins to kiss down my neck again. Between his kisses he says, “Adela, this is the Order of the Huntress. If someone promised you that anything about this place would be fair, they most certainly lied. Now lie back and let me taste you. Again.”
I do as he asks.