Chapter 24 Nesrina has a new experience.
twenty-four
Nesrina has a new experience.
Kas caught up to Nesrina halfway between the public building and their inn, his breathing utterly even in spite of the distance he’d jogged.
It irked her, obviously.
“I didn’t realize you were done dancing.”
“I didn’t realize you were done doing whatever with Lady Tarcadu.”
He laughed, loudly and at her, which incensed her more. She sped up her footsteps, and he broadened his gait.
“We were talking, Nes. Briefly, at that.”
She didn’t believe him.
“You’re quite cute when you’re jealous.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Jealous?”
“Cute. It’s infantilizing.”
“Adorable, then.”
“It means the same thing.”
“Does it?”
Ignoring him, she marched on in silence, her legs moving twice as fast as his, until finally they made it back to their shared room.
Flushed from two glasses of wine at dinner, champagne during the gala, and her rushed retreat to the inn, Nes flopped down on the chair she’d claimed as her own and stared daggers at the unlit fireplace, trying in vain to calm her breathing.
What was wrong with her? Where had . . .
all of that, all those thoughts, all that jealousy come from?
He was right, she was jealous. Shrinking back into the chair, feeling defeated and strange, she huffed.
Then her teeth clenched as Kas’s confession stormed her mind for the millionth time. “You know I’m attracted to you, right?”
And I, you. It’s driving me mad.
The symposium’s greatest boon was also its greatest downfall.
People from all walks of life, from every layer of Selwas’s social strata could come together as equals for those few days each year.
It was a merging of minds, a place to gather ideas and information, to seek inspiration, to meet your muse.
The liminality was as riveting as it was ructious.
A tumbler of amber and ice floated into her field of view, balanced on his upturned palm. Drawn from her reverie, she plucked the drink and held it up for a moment, studying the way Kas’s form rippled and waved through the thick glass.
Silence reigned for several strange minutes, each of them consuming their nightcap and avoiding one another’s gaze.
Little gusts of wind that alternated between cool and balmy kept rushing Nesrina as they sat beside the dark hearth.
“Hmph,” she grunted, swatting at one of his tendrils of magic, not needing to use her sight to know it was him. “I think it’s time for you to start paying attention during my lessons with the twins.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“It seems you have room for improvement—”
His mouth dropped open.
“—as evidenced by this current lack of control over your magic.” The tiniest breeze tickled her beneath the chin, and she jerked her head to the side in an attempt to escape him.
“Lack of control?” His voice was blissful, ice on a summer day, dripping down her neck.
Kas sipped his whiskey. “I’ll have you know, Miss Kiappa, my magic is exceptionally powerful and excessively difficult to contain.
I doubt you could teach me much at all.” He set his glass down on the side table.
“Psh.” She waved him off.
“You doubt me?” Resting his forearms on his thighs, he appraised her. “I’m certain you wouldn’t last three minutes with my power in that body of yours.”
His phrasing made her flush, and she looked around frantically, as if searching for a place to set her drink. The side table was eight inches from her hand. Regaining her composure, somewhat, Nes thunked her glass down and stood to face off with the duke.
She felt far too tiny sitting across from him. Kas dominated his chair, while she was fairly swallowed by the plush fabric of her own seat.
He leaned back lazily.
“I find that difficult to believe.” With him sitting, they were nearly eye to eye.
If anything, she came out on top for once.
Looking down at him, she quipped, “I could handle it easily. It doesn’t seem strong to me.
Little breezes and wisps of wind are nothing to be proud of.
” She fought against her desire to smirk at the stormy duke.
Lened, she liked goading him and was starting to understand why he did it to her.
“Wisps?” He chuckled as a hot dry air swirled at her feet, rising to encapsulate her fully, a ghostly spiraling embrace.
Nes gasped as her skirts whipped. She should absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, not be enjoying the moment as much as she was.
But there was no denying the way her heart fluttered, or the way her core pulsed with a building need she didn’t want to name.
Nesrina clenched her thighs quickly, attempting and failing to release the pressure.
Kas stood abruptly, forcing her back a few steps. “And this?” he growled.
Each of the windows slammed in tandem, the tremor so strong she was surprised the glass didn’t break. Then the curtains drew closed with force, the heavy draperies fluttering as they settled into their new positions.
His magical whirlwind stopped as quickly as it had started. Nes took a second to regain her sense of balance, bereft without his magic teasing and tugging at her hair and clothing.
She shouldn’t, but she could, so she wet her lips and said, “That seemed a bit . . . heavy handed.”
“Heavy handed?” His voice was husky. “Says the girl who made a mountain.”
“Mmm, quite heavy handed.” She ignored his second comment. “I’m not sure you could achieve nuance if your life depended on it.” Nes couldn’t look him in the eyes, or surely, she’d laugh and give herself away.
He frowned slightly, stepping back. For a moment she feared she’d offended him. But then she felt a heavy breeze push in around her feet, like she’d stepped into a puddle of warmth. “I can be quite nuanced, I assure you, Nesrina.”
The air shifted from warm to cool in an instant, sending a shiver up her spine. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Mmm, perhaps. But you have a decided lack of delicacy.”
He laughed. It was low and sultry and— When did he get so close? She blinked up at him.
“Delicacy? Mi kalalitani . . .” He looked around the room for a moment before seemingly making up his mind about something.
Kas’s eyes returned to hers, and his gaze grew molten. She stood on the edge of a dark precipice, ready to leap into the unknown. Terrified, but never one to turn down a new experience, she shifted, leaning into his magic.
The provocative air lapped up her ankles, almost liquid, as he murmured, “If only I had a harpsichord . . . I’d sweep you off your feet—play you a sonata with my magic.”
She could make him one, but it most certainly was not the right time.
“‘Woulds, coulds, and shoulds mean nothing in the face of inaction,’” Nes quoted one of her favorite Thanin lines, flashing a cheeky smile at Kas before she continued, “As a scholar, I’ll be needing a demonstration of this dexterity you claim to have in such abundan—” She gasped as the warm pool of air at her feet split, forming two tendrils of heat that circled her calves in symmetry.
It reminded her far too much of her dream from the night before, and a realization struck.
That wasn’t a dream. Or, perhaps it was in a sense, but the way his magic had caressed her?
There was no way she’d imagined the sensations exactly as they were.
There was no way he’d been awake—he was far too Kas to do something like that on purpose.
There was no way. Rather than prick her nerves, knowing they’d done this before, in some capacity, relaxed her.
Thought failed Nes as his twin cords of magic swirled up her legs, pausing to lap at the sensitive spot behind her knees.
They continued their exploratory upward climb.
Heat rose in her chest, the flames fanned higher and hotter by her rapidly beating heart.
Kas’s humid magic pulsed against the backs of her thighs as the tendrils licked at her skin.
The air was balmier than it had been. It felt like hot breath teasing all over her, like fingertips caressing her.
“Oh,” she gasped, unbidden.
His eyes never left hers, and she felt undressed before him while keenly aware of the many layers that separated their bodies.
“Have I proven my dexterity?” His magic gathered together into one mass that cupped the base of her bum, teasing the creases below her cheeks, now cool against her steamy skin.
She shivered, desperate for more. “Lacking in nuance.” Her lips twitched. “Heavy handed.” She ticked off invented faults. “Decidedly indeli—ohh . . .”
Kas split his magic again, and tendrils wound their way over the swell of her bottom, up and around her waist. There, they lingered for a moment, caressing her peaked hip bones, dipping down to the thatch of curls between her legs, teasing mere inches above her center.
He searched her face, reading her features, scanning whatever expression she wore for something excruciatingly specific.
She stared back, breathing shallow, unable to speak over the insatiable need pulsing at her core. Touch me, kiss me, she nearly begged.
He found something writ plainly upon her face. Perhaps it was her plea.
Kas’s magic heated again, sending a sizzle skittering over her skin as the ropes of air danced over her.
His power combined into a singular column so condensed it felt as though it had mass, pulsing in time with her rising need, teasing her inner thighs, sweeping over the juncture at the top of her legs, but never once touching her center.
He was torturing her, expertly, infuriatingly.
Just when Nes was about to scream, a wispy tendril broke from the rest and brushed along her slit. Lightning shot through her, and she gasped as Kas parted her. His magical heat licked at her clitoris, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her, buckling her knees.