10. Kailin
KAILIN
"Wine makes philosophers of fools and fools of philosophers. Either way, it makes the night more interesting."
—Codric Teress
The trek from the first-year dining hall to the officers' wing had never felt so long or so ominous.
The corridors were dark and quiet, our four pairs of footsteps echoing off the walls and potentially muffling any sounds assassins might be making, if they were lurking behind stone columns and dark niches.
"I hope you are all keeping your hands on your sidearms." Alar voiced what all of us were thinking.
I wrapped my fingers around the grip of the combat dagger at my hip because I was better with it than with the gun. Beside me, Shovia did the same with her sidearm, and Codric fumbled with his holster for a moment before gripping his weapon as well.
"I should warn you all." His words came out slurred. "I'm too drunk to hit a target even if it's the size of a dragon."
"Then aim for the walls," Shovia said. "You'll hit something eventually."
Codric snorted. "You must be drunk too. The bullets will ricochet and hit one of us."
"Good point," she agreed. "Perhaps you should pull out your dagger then."
"But I like the gun more."
Shovia rolled her eyes. "If you are too drunk to aim the gun, and pointing at the walls is not an option because the bullets might ricochet, then the dagger is your only option."
Despite the ongoing banter, I was acutely aware of the danger as we walked through the corridors, and my eyes kept darting from one shadowy enclave to the next.
It was a strange thing, being a little buzzed and glowing with the best day of my life while simultaneously scanning shadows for assassins.
The Citadel had been swept and cleared of converts weeks ago, and Saphir had personally screened every remaining resident, but I wasn't taking any chances, and neither were my friends.
Alar walked half a step ahead of me, his body angled to shield mine.
He did this unconsciously now, a protective instinct that had become second nature to him.
I should have told him I didn't need shielding, that I was bonded to the most powerful dragon in the force and was on my way to becoming immortal, which meant my body would soon be able to repair damage in minutes instead of days, but I kept quiet.
Part of me knew I didn't need protecting.
The rest of me liked being cared for by the man I loved.
I blamed the wine.
It was making my mind mushy and my body loose and needy. Alar's slightest touch, even just the brush of his hand or his shoulder, was enough to send tingles of excitement through my body, and then there was the scent of him, the one beneath the soap and the faint trace of wine and highland whiskey.
I could get drunk on it.
My sense of smell was getting stronger, no doubt from the bonding, and I suspected the heightened awareness and the neediness came from the same place.
Morgateth's energy fed me in a steady current even when he wasn't near, a vitality that made me feel like I could climb Mount Hope all over again, this time without stopping to rest.
For weeks, I'd been running on empty, dragging myself through training and lessons and prophetic nightmares that left me hollowed out. Now I was overflowing with energy, and the excess was looking for an outlet, and what better one was there than a night of passion with Alar?
I wanted him out of that dress uniform and between my thighs.
Shovia chuckled. "Did I tell you that you wear your thoughts on your sleeve?"
I felt my cheeks heating up. "Once or twice or a hundred times."
I hoped that my clipped response would shut her up, but I should have known better. It was hard to do when she was sober and impossible when she was drunk.
"You have that look on your face," she said.
"I don't know what you're talking about." It wasn't a lie because I couldn't know for sure what she was implying.
It was a legitimate loophole.
"Oh, I think you do." She leaned over and patted my heated cheek. "Your face is glowing."
"I hate you," I mumbled under my breath.
"No, you love me." She kissed the same cheek she'd just patted.
Thankfully, Shovia dropped the subject, and we reached the officers' wing without encountering any assassins, but I worried about Morek returning to the apartment alone.
He'd stayed behind to continue drinking and flirting, and if he didn't end up spending the night with the girl he'd been trying to charm, he would have to walk all the way to the officers' wing by himself.
Then again, no one was after Morek.
I was the assassins' primary target, which made me dangerous to be around.
"Bathroom's mine first," Shovia announced as we entered our apartment and headed down the hall.
"Can I join you?" Codric called after her.
"Be my guest," Shovia's voice floated back.
As Alar and I settled onto the couch in the common room, waiting for them to vacate the bathroom, he put his arm around me, and I leaned into him, my head finding that spot between his shoulder and his jaw that seemed designed specifically for me.
"It was a good day," he said.
"The best. And what's even better is that we have a day off tomorrow."
I was still riding the high from the bonding, and the boost in energy, and the wine had loosened the last of the tension in my body. I was buzzing with excitement, thinking of all the things I wanted to do with my prince tonight.
There would be no alarm at dawn tomorrow, which meant we could make love for hours. Tomorrow, there would be no training or classes, and I was looking forward to some quiet time to draw, read, or just hang out with my friends. Or maybe go another round with my prince.
Life was good.
Shovia emerged from the bathroom in her nightclothes, her hair damp and her face scrubbed clean. "All yours," she said, looking at us, then caught Codric's hand and whispered something in his ear that made him grin and rush her toward the bedroom.
The sound of their door clicking shut was followed by Shovia's laughter, quickly muffled.
Apparently, I wasn't the only one with naughty plans for tonight.
”Come on." I pulled Alar up off the couch and towed him down the hall to our room. By the time I got the door shut, he'd already started unbuttoning his dress uniform. I dug our nightclothes out of the dresser and tossed his at him. "You go first. You're faster. I want to take my time."
“Are you sure?” He shrugged out of the uniform jacket, and for a moment, I forgot what I wanted him to do.
“Yes, go, before Morek gets back.”
“Well, if you insist," he said, sauntering past me and flexing his muscles as he went.
“Show off,” I muttered as he closed the door behind him.
He'd already showered once after our solo flights, before we'd dressed for the luncheon, so he didn’t need to shower again, but knowing Alar, he would, and I was proven right when a moment later I heard the pipes shudder.
While I waited, I hung my dress uniform in the closet, changed into my nightclothes, and planned my seduction.
Alar came back with a towel slung around his neck and nothing on but the bottoms of his nightclothes, his chest damp and his chin-length hair dripping, and the sight of him turned my plans a little bolder.
"All yours," he said.
I took my time in the bathroom, standing under the spray and letting the hot water ease the tension from my muscles.
When I was done, I put on a fresh pair of panties, undid the elaborate updo, and brushed out my hair, letting it fall in loose, long waves that cascaded down my back, and studied myself in the mirror.
I looked different. Not just healthier and stronger but also more confident, and it was all thanks to Morgateth and his subtle presence in the back of my mind.
He was like a reservoir of power that I could tap into whenever I needed it.
Even now, I could feel him, not intrusively, but still there, a vast warm presence that felt like banked fire.
On impulse, I decided not to put the ugly nightclothes back on and wrapped a big towel around myself instead. If I were a braver soul, I would have walked to our bedroom in just my panties, but Morek could return any minute now, and I wasn't about to traumatize my friend.
He was old-fashioned, even a little prudish, though he would never admit that.
When I entered our room, Alar was exactly where I'd left him, sitting on the edge of our bed with his chest bare and his chin-length hair beginning to dry.
He looked up when I walked through the door, his eyes roaming over my towel-clad body.
I closed the door behind me and dropped the towel.
Alar's expression went through several rapid transitions, starting with appreciation, moving to hunger, and then settling on something softer and more dangerous than any of those.
"Come here," he said.
I went.
He pulled me to stand between his knees, his hands settling on my hips.
I cupped his face in my hands and tilted it up to mine. "I love you," I said.
"I'll never get tired of hearing you say that." He turned his head to press his lips against my palm. "And I love you. I wish there was a more poetic way to say that, but even though I was trained in rhetoric, I'm not good at this."
"You show me that you love me in a thousand different ways every day." I raked my fingers through his wet hair. "Like showering for the second time today for me."
"That's nothing."
I ran my hand over his defined shoulders, then down to his sculpted chest. "You're incredibly handsome, my prince. Did I tell you that today already?"
"Not today. No." He gave me that lopsided grin of his. "But please, go on."
"I can't keep my hands off you."
"Then don't."
I ran my hands over the muscles that months of training had carved into his body.
Alar leaned over, pressing his mouth to the curve of my waist and tracing a path upward, while hooking his thumbs in my panties and sliding them down over my hips with a deliberate slowness.
I pushed him back onto the bed, and he went willingly, pulling me down on top of him. The contact of skin against skin sent a wave of heat through me.
For weeks, our lovemaking had been gentle and careful because I'd been so depleted that even pleasure had tired me. Alar had been patient and tender, always putting my needs before his own, always mindful of my weakened state, but there was no need for that tonight.
Tonight I was fully charged and alive in a way I hadn't been since before the prophetic dreams had started draining me, and I intended to make up for lost time.
I kissed him, deep and slow, tasting wine and something sweeter underneath, the familiarity of a man whose body I'd learned over many shared nights.
His hands roamed my back, my hips, my bottom, then back to the curve of my waist, mapping all the territory he knew by heart but still explored as if it were new.
"You feel different tonight," he murmured against my mouth. "You feel like you're running hot but not because you are sick. It's like your core temperature has risen."
"It's Morgateth's energy." I shifted against him and felt his breath catch. "It's like being plugged into a power source. Everything is amplified."
"Define everything." His hands tightened on my hips.
"How about I show you?" I rubbed myself on top of him, regretting that he was still wearing the bottoms of his nightclothes. "But first, let's get you naked."