Chapter 10
CHAPTER
10
The door closed behind us, the air thick with lust. I was grateful for the ruckus coming from the bar downstairs, because there was nothing but charged silence between us as Trace bent down to light a fire. I stood there in the dark, recalling how we had performed these same motions the night before. But this time was different. This time there wasn’t an ounce of liquid courage to carry me forward, and I was certain something was going to happen.
My mouth was dry, but elsewhere I was slick with eager anticipation. Despite the excitement, I was still so unsure of myself, unable to bring myself to make the first move. This was very different from my time with Gris. He and I were friends, we knew each other well, and there was an air of lightness between us that made things easy.
With Trace, things were not going to be as easy. Who would speak first, who would yield? We knew each other a little better, but there hadn’t been years of trust built up like I had with Gris.
I was starting to wonder if I was going to be able to follow through. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to—I really wanted to. I watched as Trace began the familiar routine of removing his cloak and daggers, placing them one by one on the small writing desk. The dim, flickering light created a display of shadows all along the walls of the tiny room. Trace towered over every piece of furniture around us. He finally turned to me, single silver blade in hand, and began stalking over slowly.
I gulped, looking up at him and licking my lips in preparation to take that beautiful mouth of his. I stood there frozen, unable to move my feet. Internally, I was itching to touch him, but I couldn’t bring myself to lift a finger.
Trace moved the blade to hover just between my aching breasts where the laces started on my vest corseted in front. The tip of his blade pulled the strings taut, and I couldn’t refrain from gasping when each one gave way to the sharp edge in one swift motion downward to the top of my belly.
The blade did not scare me. I was confident that he knew exactly what he was doing—and I was equally sure that I was coming as undone as this corset. He had barely laid a hand on me, and yet I was transfixed with the way he worked slowly and meticulously to drag out the act of removing it.
When he was done, he took his hand and gently slid the vest from my shoulders until it fell to the floor behind me. From the corner of my eye, I could see the tattoo on his hand, distracting me. I wanted to see it all. He then lifted the blade to my braided hair and did the same to the tie, unleashing long waves down my back.
“Much better,” was all he said.
He circled me like a predator stalking prey, and I could feel his muscular chest now pressing against my back as he stopped behind me. I leaned into it, wanting to feel his warmth, but all I could focus on was how aroused I’d become; my nipples poking against the thin white blouse, betraying me.
Trace ran his rough fingertips along the side of my neck, pushing my long hair to the side as I tilted my head, baring myself to him, willing him onward. That’s when I felt the warmth of his mouth nestled between my shoulder and the curve of my neck.
The first time those magnificent lips graced my skin, they melted into me. He began to slowly place soft kisses all along my neck. His breath was a low hum at my earlobes, the tickling sensation nearly unbearable. I felt his lips run up along the tip of my pointed ear, followed by his face pressing into the back of my hair. He was breathing me in, the scent of me. I just stood there letting him explore me at a painstakingly slow pace.
When he returned to face me, it was like a different person. The once slow, patient, calm Trace was gone as he grabbed both sides of my face in his hands and crushed his lips to mine, sweeping his tongue into my mouth with the desperation of someone who has longed for this. I, too, had longed for this very encounter.
I stumbled backward slightly, but he stepped forward, keeping himself close and pinning me against the door as he continued to ravage my mouth. I worked to keep pace as our tongues clashed. I returned his frantic passion and bit gently on his lower lip; he groaned in response. I angled my body into him, willing him to continue.
With one arm bracing himself against the doorframe, he used the other to run his hand up my side and under my blouse where he cupped my breast, rubbing his thumb in a circle across my nipple. Between our kisses, I gasped in pleasure with each tender squeeze he made.
Everything was moving at such a fast pace; I wasn’t having any time to overthink. I was not remotely in control of the situation, and for some reason, I liked it. I couldn’t anticipate my next move or his; I was entirely lost in the moment.
Gathering my hair with one hand, he pulled it tightly, forcing my head back to give him better access to my throat. He continued with endless kissing and the occasional graze of his teeth, until his lips returned to mine and I felt him run his hands between my legs and squeeze.
I let out a gasp, which he swallowed with another kiss and sweep of his tongue. He continued to rub and tease me over the soft fabric of my pants, and I worked hard to hold back a moan, but the sensations he created exposed my want. He pulled back for the first time, giving me a second to catch my breath.
His hazel eyes were dark and heavy with desire. He grabbed at my waistline, his fingers dipping just below the fabric, pulling me toward him. He leaned closer and growled, “You’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t wait to taste you.”
My breath hitched, and I barely had time to comprehend his words before he began slowly pulling me away from the door, toward the bed, unbuttoning my pants as we went. By the time I felt the back of my legs hit the edge, he had already made his way to the last button and bent down to his knees. He quickly unlaced my boots, and I had enough sense to be grateful that he didn’t use that knife to destroy another piece of my clothing; I’d have nothing to wear home.
He remained on his knees as he began to slowly remove my trousers, one leg, then the other, baring me. It was at that moment that I wished we were back against the wall; the embarrassment of standing there half-naked was more than I could handle.
“Sit,” he ordered, as he had done before, but this time, he did not sound like someone to ignore.
I did not dare disobey or return some smart-mouthed quip. I did as he commanded. As soon as I did, he sat up on his knees and spread my legs wide in front of him. My Gods, I wanted to die. Cover me now. He just sat there, taking me in.
“I’ve wanted to do this all day.”
Before I could react, he leaned in and began passionately kissing up the insides of my legs with as much speed and force as he had taken my mouth with just minutes ago. My legs were quivering and all of my nerves went into overdrive as he continued, occasionally biting at my thighs and then sending me over the edge as one hand began to lazily run a finger along my dripping apex.
I laid flat on the bed, unable to do anything but arch further into his hand. There were no kisses to catch the sounds he drove from me. As Trace slid a finger into me, I let out an audible gasp, and from this confession of pleasure, he showed me no mercy.
The next sensation I felt was entirely new. Trace’s tongue swept back and forth across my clit while his finger plunged in and out of me. I began to moan and writhe against his motions. Gods, this was the most incredible feeling. I propped myself up on my elbows to gaze down upon him and was met with the intensity of his stare. His eyes darkened and he continued to work me over, languishing me with the strokes of his tongue. The desperation for more built when I let out a traitorous cry and called out for him, “Trace!”
As soon as he heard his name leave my lips, he shoved another finger in and increased the unrelenting pace and motion. My breathing was uneven and I found myself unable to catch my breath. My body responded to this in ways I had never experienced.
The passion continued to grow as he worked, and I found myself in a cadence of whimpered cries and calling his name over and over, trying to gain control over this unruly and maddening feeling. Suddenly, he stopped.
I was left feeling empty. I was worried I had done something wrong, but I sat up to find Trace now standing at the edge of the bed.
He had removed his boots and began lifting his dark shirt over his head. Had I not been entirely distracted by the sight of him, I might have been more disappointed that he had teased me to the brink and then left me there. But I couldn’t be mad because I was already enamored with what stood before me.
His body was perfectly proportioned for his tall stature. He was muscular, but not bulky, and chiseled everywhere you’d hope. I was now distracted by the distinct tattoo starting at his left hand, running up his arm, and stopping just above his collarbone at the base of his neck.
It was difficult to make out clearly in the light of the fire, but it looked almost like black ink had been spilled down his arm. And that’s when I remembered what he had said about it being a military tattoo and never being able to wash away the blood of the lives you took. That’s exactly what it looked like, spilled blood running the entire length of his arm, almost covering him entirely. Very little of his pale skin remained visible. He stalked toward me, noticing my distracted gaze, and grabbed my chin, tilting it upward, forcing our eyes to meet as he towered over me.
“I like hearing you say my name.”
He ran a finger across my lower lip, looking me over as if he were inspecting me. Like he was considering if I pleased him or not.
“Let’s see how loud you say it this time around, and perhaps, I’ll give you what you want.”
Trace was going to be the literal death of me. He was a mystery, a male of few words, but he sure did choose them wisely. I was wrapped around his finger in a fog of lust, and my mouth watered at the sight of him straining against his pants. It’s a good thing he didn’t encourage me to unbutton him because I was pretty sure my hands would have fumbled clumsily.
“Remove your shirt,” he demanded.
There was no room to be shy, after all his face had been between my thighs only moments ago. I did as he instructed and tossed the shirt to the floor, moving my now fully naked body farther back onto the bed to welcome him. He did not take the invitation. He continued to stand at the edge of the bed, just looking down at me.
“Spread your legs.”
Again, I did as he commanded, still feeling a bit embarrassed to be doing so.
“I want you to look at me and begin touching yourself. Touch yourself the way you do when you’re alone.”
My eyes widened at the filthy request he was making of me. But Trace wasn’t making a request. He was instructing my every move this entire evening, and with a slight hesitation, I lowered my hand.
Trace stood there watching me intently, and I could see him take a sharp inhale as he watched me push a finger inside myself. As I began to circle my finger over and over in a rapid motion, my breathing became difficult to control. I tried to keep my eyes focused on him like he had ordered, but it was more difficult than one might think.
Trace freed himself from the constraint of his tight pants and I practically gasped, witnessing him take the hard full length of himself in his hand and begin to stroke. He did not waver. He continued to stare me down as I watched desire build in his gold-flecked eyes.
His jaw clenched tighter when a small moan escaped my mouth. The tension felt like the physical embodiment of all our verbal sparring. It was killing me. I wanted him and I wanted him now. I knew exactly how to bait him to me.
I shoved a second finger in and when I did, I threw my head back in a passionate release and gasped his name loudly, “Trace!”
Within seconds he was over me, between me, arriving like an answer to a prayer. He ran his hands along every bare inch of me. I stopped pleasing myself, unaware if I was going to regret that, and grabbed his face pulling him toward me, tasting myself on his lips. Now I was the one crashing into him. I frantically ran my hands over his arms, feeling every sculpted muscle, wrapping my legs around him and sliding my hands across his bare chest.
I felt him adjust himself at my entrance and eagerly spread my legs wider. He brushed a lock of my hair out of my face and just held himself there, looking down at me. Tenderly. I didn’t know how I knew what he wanted; I just did.
I pulled his face close to mine and left gentle kisses along his neck, slowly working my way up to his ear where I exhaled a pleading whisper. “Trace.”
It was his undoing.
I felt him thrust into me all at once, and the intensity was indescribable. The length of him was brutal, but welcomed. He began to thrust in and out, holding our bodies so closely together I could feel my breasts skimming his chest with each powerful movement. His bare skin felt magnificent against mine, and I curled my legs around him tighter, unable to get close enough to him. Urging him deeper when there was nowhere else to go.
His pace became unyielding, and his ragged breaths began to match mine in between our all-consuming kisses. Occasionally, he would bite down on my shoulder, and the painful sensation of his teeth contrasting the pleasurable ones elsewhere was a sinful combination.
Before I had time to react, Trace swiftly rotated, pulling me on top of him as he now lay beneath me. I adjusted and quickly remembered the pleasure I had found in this position before. I began to roll my body against him and quicken the pace, when suddenly I felt his thumb in the same place it had been when he almost took me over the edge earlier. He continued to caress me, and I felt the pressure increasing with each movement I made against him.
My back bowed as I lost myself in the pleasure that he brought me. The sensation was quickly becoming uncontrollable, but I could not stop my writhing. I prayed he stayed with me just like this. I didn’t have words or thoughts for what was happening, but the sensitivity of it all was beginning to feel almost unbearable, but I pushed onward, teetering between pleasure and release, and when I could no longer control myself, I moaned, “Trace. Trace.” He increased his pace. “Trace,” I rasped.
All of a sudden, I felt a dull familiar pain coming from my back, and within seconds, my wings burst forth splaying out fully on both sides of me as I crashed against the pinnacle of my desire, with Trace finding his mere seconds later.
Oh no. Absolutely not. What had just happened, and why were my wings on display? Shit. Shit . I quickly crawled off of Trace and moved abruptly to the other side of the room, working to calm my breathing as quickly as possible and regain some semblance of control.
I had not called forth my wings, it just…happened. It was beyond my control, and I felt myself growing redder by the minute with embarrassment. I must have been turning in circles trying to find a way to sheathe them when I felt Trace grab my hand. “Cress, are you okay?”
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why that happened. Just give me a minute. I can take care of it.”
But no matter what I did, they would not return. Trace and I stood there, both naked in the firelight, and I felt awful that I had entirely ruined our bliss with whatever this was.
Trace turned my body, forcing me to face him. After everything he had witnessed me do tonight, something about this was worse than all of that. Fae do not go around showing off their wings, and they certainly didn’t do it by accident. Gods, why was this happening to me?
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. You can learn to control it,” he offered softly.
“…What?” I questioned.
“It’s not uncommon that when we lose control from things like…like climax, that you have to exert control in other ways.”
I stared at him blankly, realizing that this had never happened before. Not alone. Not with Gris. Had that meant this was my first true climax? Why did this have to happen now? In front of him, of all people. I would kill Versa for not warning me this could happen.
“Stop shaming yourself.”
As he offered the kind words, his eyes began to scan the ridge of my iridescent wings and I couldn’t stop staring at the shadows they cast on the wall, reminding me of the horrible error I had made because I lacked experience and control. One minute, I was riding high on my pleasure, and now, I felt unbelievably naive.
“I think they’re stunning…like you.” He lifted my chin to seal his words with a gentle kiss.
Nothing like the way he kissed me earlier. After a few more minutes passed, I was finally able to feel my breath even out and the calm spread over me as my wings lowered, slowly sheathed, and disappeared.
Now that I was finally free of the embarrassment my wings had caused, I found myself bashfully standing naked in front of a still-nude Trace, looking for any piece of fabric to cover myself. Trace swiped the blanket from the bed and wrapped it over my shoulders, but unwilling to let go, he instead pulled me in close to his chest.
He leaned in and whispered against my ear, “I’m really glad the eels didn’t get you.”
“You fucking piece of work,” I shoved him away, taking the blanket with me.
I couldn’t believe such foul language had left my mouth, but there wasn’t anything ladylike about what I had just done—so why pretend?
Trace laughed and began to put his pants back on, while I sat back on the bed, covering myself to warm up. Trace moved to sit in the armchair by the fire; the same place he had slept last night, and I was worried he was about to make some sort of unexplained exit. Was he done with me?
I moved to one side of the bed and patted at the empty space beside me.
“I’m willing to share, you don’t have to sleep in that uncomfortable chair.”
Trace let out a frustrated breath. “It’s not you. I’m just used to keeping watch at all hours, and I find it difficult to sleep.”
He must have read the disappointment on my face because he stood and made his way toward me. He crawled into the spot I had made, and now that we were both in this bed without any distraction, the tiny space felt noticeably smaller. He pulled me to him, coaxing me under his arm as I rolled on my side and relaxed into the comfortable crook of his body.
“You don’t seem like the cuddling type,” I remarked teasingly.
He began to trace lazy circles on my arm with his hand. “The pleasures of the flesh are fleeting, we must enjoy them while they last.”
His words were truer than he realized, but I refused to dwell on them.
“Did you read that in some clever book of poems?” I playfully mocked.
He scoffed, disregarding my remark. “I’ll stay with you till you fall asleep, but please take no offense when I make my way back to the chair; old habits die hard.”
I’d take what I could get. I nuzzled myself further into his side, taking in the scent of him. Now that I was paying attention, I realized he smelled like sandalwood and pine. It was a comforting scent that reminded me of riding Rain through the forest in the early morning when the ground was moist with dew.
I began to run my fingers gently across the line of his waist, feeling each ridge of muscle. He grabbed my hand. “That tickles, and if you don’t stop, I’m going to be forced to do terrible things to you.”
While the challenge was more than enticing, I knew better. I was exhausted and sore—and rightfully so, given Trace’s size. I pulled my hand away and lifted it instead to his chest. He leaned in and left a gentle kiss on top of my head, lingering seconds longer to smell my hair like he had done earlier.
By now the tavern had closed and the only sound was the crackling of the fire. I tried to fight sleep, afraid of losing this moment with the dawn. The last thing I remembered was the sight of Trace’s tattooed hand intertwined with mine.
I was foolish to think there was a chance that in the morning I’d awake in his arms. After all, he had warned me. But I did not expect to find myself entirely alone. I glanced around the room from the bed and saw that all of his things were gone. This was what I got for bedding a stranger. Should I have expected anything more than this? I was heading toward the washroom to retrieve my now-dry undergarments when I saw the note on the table.
Meet me in a week. You showed me yours. It’s only fair I show you mine.
– Trace
Laying across the top of the parchment was a solid black feather, as dark as night. Trace was a Nightwing. Not only that, but he had left me a literal piece of himself.
I carried the feather over to the window sill, letting the morning sun shine brightly over it, illuminating the green hues that only appeared at just the right angle. Nightwing Fae hailed from about as far north as the maps go. They were mountain people. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was from north of North.
I held the feather closely to my chest, letting out a sigh of relief that he wanted to see me again. Another part of me knew that missing him already was a horrible sign, and that I needed to cut off whatever this was. That returning to see him in a week was only going to make things harder.
Maybe I shouldn’t return at all. I’d just never show up, he’d realize I had no interest and move on. What good was it going to do, my having any feelings for him? I had accomplished my goal. I seduced him, I bedded him, and I should check it off the list and forget all of this.
The entire ride home I gently thumbed the feather tucked away in the pocket of my cloak, unsure if I was ever going to be able to shake the memories of Trace. Unsure if I wanted to.