Seven Avirin
SEVEN
Avirin
Lord Riften frowns as they regard her. There is something almost sad in their expression, but when another couple passes behind them, he steps out of the path to be closer to Avirin.
Breath tightens in her chest. The hard plane of his body is close now, and Avirin remembers how it felt pressed against her.
She remembers the way it responded to her, even with layers of clothing between them.
There was no denying the way their bodies called to each other.
Is that the nature of all intimacy? Will her body sing no matter who is touching her?
Lord Riften meets her gaze, and his voice dips lower than she’s ever heard it. “I’ve hardly begun to show you all that there can be, Lady Avirin.”
Her knees threaten to buckle.
Lord Riften lifts a hand to her cheek. “There is an entire world of possibility. I want you to see all of it. I want you to know all of it. I want you to experience it, so you never convince yourself it doesn’t exist.” His eyes drift to her parted lips.
“So you know there is always a way to seek your own pleasure.”
Her body is drawn to theirs, lifting onto her toes without permission. It brings her closer to Lord Riften’s mouth, the forbidden prize that consumes her thoughts. His eyelids lower until they can look nowhere but her lips, until the only sound is the two of them breathing.
Then Lord Riften’s fingers flex. The glassiness fades from their eyes like they’ve been forced out of a dream, pushing him backward to leave an appropriate amount of space between the two of them.
“Tonight is not our final lesson,” Lord Riften rasps, clearing their throat before they continue. “Tonight, you will only observe.”
Avirin’s face falls. How can Lord Riften manage to lull her into comfort and set her aflame all at once?
They clasp their hands behind them. “There is more than one way to accomplish your feedings, Lady Avirin. More than one way to please your husband, if that is your aim. Consider this another weapon in your arsenal. A reminder that you can find control, no matter what position you’re in.
” He extends his hand to her. “Would you like to learn it?”
Goosebumps spread over her skin, and she presses her gloved hand into his. He squeezes and begins to climb another set of stairs.
Avirin follows with some resistance. “If we go much higher, we won’t be able to see the show!”
There’s Lord Riften’s knowing look again.
“I assure you, you will have perfect vantage to what you wish to see.” On the final landing, he guides her to a small curtain and turns to face her.
“Behind this, there is a young man, one who worked alongside me as a courtesan. He can be trusted. He is another option, if ever you are in need of feeding.”
Panic leaps through Avirin’s chest. In the flurry of everything else, she’d forgotten about Lord Riften’s companion. “You told him —”
“I have not told him who you are,” Lord Riften assures her. “I asked that he be prepared to feed my guest, however they desire.”
The reminder makes her stomach ache. Lord Riften fed her well during their last meeting, but her hunger could not be satisfied forever. It has begun to stir again, gnawing the inside of her ribs.
Lord Riften keeps a steady watch on her. “If you do not wish to continue —”
“I do.” Her words surprise her, but she does not take them back.
If her hunger remains this persistent, it would be beneficial to have more than one place where she can feed…
and she trusts Lord Riften. If he says this man is safe, then she believes him.
After another moment, she nods, and Lord Riften returns the gesture,
“Then tonight, you will watch. You will feed from him when I give the word. Otherwise, there will be no extended contact between you. You will share no more than superficial touches; nothing like our prior lesson. You will not even touch yourself.”
A breath of relief escapes her. Though she is intrigued by this new stranger, the thought of fumbling through a lesson with someone else present is intimidating.
A smirk hitches on Lord Riften’s mouth. “In this moment, you may think these rules are a kindness. By this evening’s close, I suspect you will feel quite differently.”
Avirin swears the ground shakes under her.
Lord Riften smooths his hands down the front of his dress.
“You should know the way this man and I speak to each other may be strange to you, but it is a pre-arranged agreement. Much like your lessons.” A delectable wickedness flits across Lord Riften’s face.
“Another of the many possibilities at your fingertips, should you choose to indulge.” With that, he bends at the waist and holds back the curtain. “Enjoy the show, Lady Avirin.”
Hesitantly, she steps into the darkened balcony. All of the candles in the box have been snuffed out. It is high above the rest of the theater, the view of the stage so obscured that no one would choose these seats unless they wanted privacy.
A blond human sits in one of the chairs. His skin is pale in the dim light, and he faces the stage, but Avirin can tell by his shifting that he is desperate to look behind him.
Lord Riften lets the curtain fall behind them, casting the group into heavy darkness again. When he moves forward, his fingers curl in the back of the man’s hair. “So good at following directions, aren’t you, Samuel?”
Samuel’s fingers dig into the arms of the chair, throat bobbing when he swallows. “Yes, Sir.”
Avirin sucks in a breath. She isn’t sure why warmth seeps through her center, but it’s amplified when Lord Riften tilts the man’s face toward her. “This is the friend I told you would be accompanying us.”
Samuel smiles like a puppy meeting a new friend, a stark contrast to the heavy desire in his eyes. “She is beautiful.”
A blush floods Avirin’s face. Lord Riften looks smug. “Not only that…” He lifts his brows toward her. “Would you like to introduce yourself, my lady? Any name of your choosing.”
Avirin worries her teeth into her lip. It would be smart to provide a fake name.
It would protect her anonymity, but that’s almost laughable when she can hardly imagine what the three of them are about to partake in.
She wrings her hands together. What if she didn’t have to keep this secret?
What if she did not have to separate herself from what she is?
It’s a ridiculous thought, but here in the dark, the name tingles on her tongue.
“Avirin,” she whispers, then remembers herself. “Miss —”
“Lady Avirin,” Lord Riften purrs and turns back to Samuel. “Tonight, that is how you will refer to her. Do you understand?”
Samuel nods emphatically. “Yes, Sir.”
Below them, the curtain rises on the main stage, and a hush falls over the crowd.
Avirin peers over the railing enough to make out the candles flickering through the rest of the theater.
In this box seat, the three of them are obscured from view, but the lack of barrier between them and the rest of the audience is thrilling.
Lord Riften lowers their voice to a whisper and gestures toward an empty chair. “Take your seat, Lady Avirin.”
She sinks down into the chair next to Samuel.
A proud smile slinks across Lord Riften’s mouth. “Looks like someone else knows how to follow instructions as well.”
Strange heat crawls between Avirin’s legs. She tries to distract herself, searching for Lord Riften’s chair, but it’s nowhere to be found. There are only two seats in this box, and both are currently occupied.
“No need to worry, Lady Avirin.” Lord Riften sinks to the ground before them and parts Samuel’s knees with his hands. “There’s a place reserved for me. Isn’t that right, Samuel?”