Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Liora felt the edge of the mattress against the back of her legs and sat down automatically, her hands still clutching his shirt. Baylin followed her down, kneeling on the floor before her so their faces were level.
“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” he said, his voice strained. “Anything at all. I’ll stop immediately.”
“I will.” She tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it up. “But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
He caught her wrists gently, stilling her movements. “Slow down.”
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t something to rush.” He lifted her hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to each palm, the gesture unexpectedly tender.
“You’ve waited twenty-one years to experience the world.
You deserve to experience this properly.
Slowly. With someone who takes the time to show you how good it can be. ”
The words sent a shiver through her. “You want to take your time with me?”
“I want to learn every inch of you.” The admission seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised her. “I want to learn what brings you pleasure. What makes you say my name the way you did before.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “That sounds... thorough.”
“I’m a thorough person. When something matters to me.”
“Do I matter to you?”
He released her wrists and cupped her face in both hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made her breath catch.
“More than I can explain,” he said. “More than I should admit. I’ve known you for a day, and already I would do anything to keep you safe. To make you happy. To see you smile.”
“That seems fast.”
“It is.” His thumbs traced her cheekbones. “But some things don’t follow the rules of time. Some things just are.”
She thought about that. About the books she’d read, the stories of love at first sight that she’d dismissed as fantasy. Now she wondered if there was more truth in them than she’d realized.
“Kiss me again,” she said. “Please.”
He obliged.
This kiss was different from the others—softer and sweeter, but no less intense. He kissed her like she was precious, like she was something to be cherished rather than consumed. And while part of her thrilled at the gentleness, another part wanted more.
She wanted the hunger she’d glimpsed earlier. The raw, barely-controlled need. She wanted to see what happened when his careful restraint finally broke.
“Baylin,” she murmured against his lips. “You don’t have to be so careful.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know what I’m holding back. If I let go completely—” He broke off, jaw tight.
“What? What happens if you let go?”
“I’m not human,” he said roughly. “When a Vultor male wants a female, it consumes us.”
Curiosity sparked through her. “Consumes you how?”
“We become possessive. Territorial. The urge to claim, to mark, to make someone ours...” He shook his head. “It’s overwhelming. And you already call to me like that. If I give in to what I’m feeling, I might not be able to stop.”
She should have felt some flutter of fear at his words, at the warning in them, but all she felt was a deep, thrumming excitement.
“What if I don’t want you to stop?”
His hands tightened on her face. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it.” She covered his hands with her own.
“I’ve spent my whole life being safe and protected from everything.
And look where it got me—a prisoner who didn’t even know she was imprisoned.
” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.
“I’m done being careful. I want to feel something real.
Something that can’t be contained or controlled or measured. I want you, Baylin. However you come.”
A shudder ran through him.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said.
“Show me.”
He lifted her the rest of the way onto the bed and followed her down until she was on her back and he was braced above her. The position should have felt vulnerable. Instead, it felt like safety. Like being sheltered by something powerful and protective.
“If you want to stop,” he said, “at any point, for any reason—”
“I know. You’ll stop. I trust you.”
She reached up and pulled him down to her.
The kiss that followed was deeper than any that had come before. His tongue slid against hers, tasting and exploring, and she matched his movements instinctively—learning the rhythm, the give and take, the escalating intensity.
His body pressed against hers, warm and solid and impossibly strong. She could feel the muscles of his chest through the thin fabric of her dress, could feel the hard length of his thigh between her legs. The contact sent sparks shooting through her nerve endings, making her gasp against his mouth.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yes. Very good. More.”
He laughed softly—a warm sound that vibrated against her lips. “Patient.”
“I’ve been patient for twenty-one years.”
“Then a few more minutes won’t hurt.”
His mouth left hers, trailing down her jaw, along the line of her neck. Each kiss was deliberate. Purposeful. Building sensation upon sensation until her head was spinning.
When he reached the hollow of her throat, he paused to press his lips there—a gentle contact that nevertheless made her whole body arch.
“You’re sensitive here,” he observed.
“I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know yet.” He kissed the spot again, then traced his tongue lightly across her collarbone. “But we have time.”
Time. Such a simple word. But for someone who had spent her entire life in a tower where nothing ever changed, it felt like a gift.
Time to learn. Time to explore. Time to discover all the things she’d been missing.
She threaded her fingers through his dark hair and pulled him back up to her mouth.
“I want to know everything,” she said against his lips. “About attraction and desire and what happens between males and females.”
“I’ll teach you.” He kissed her again, slow and deep. “Everything you want to know.”
“Starting now?”
“Starting now.”
His hand slid from her waist to her hip, fingers tracing patterns through the fabric of her dress. Even through the cloth, his touch left trails of fire. She shifted restlessly beneath him, seeking more contact, more pressure, more something she couldn’t quite name.
“Easy,” he murmured. “We’ll get there.”
“Where?”
“Wherever you want to go.”
She considered all the sensations currently swirling through her body—the heat, the tension, the ache that seemed centered low in her belly. She didn’t know enough to name what she wanted. But she knew she wanted more.
“I want to see you,” she said. “Without your shirt. I want to touch you properly.”
Something flared in his eyes. He sat back, kneeling over her, and pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
Oh.
She’d seen his arms earlier. She’d seen the scars, the muscle, and the evidence of a life spent fighting and surviving.
But seeing his full torso was something else entirely.
Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Defined muscles shifting beneath silver-bronze skin.
More scars, tracing patterns across his chest and stomach like a map of battles survived.
“You’re beautiful,” she breathed.
“Most people don’t say that about scars.”
“Most people are fools.” She sat up, reaching out to trace one of the raised lines across his chest. “These tell your story. They prove you’ve lived, really lived, not just existed inside a safe little box like me.”
“You’ve lived too. Just differently.”
“Maybe.” She continued her exploration, exploring the planes of his body, the texture of his skin, and the way his muscles twitched under her touch. “But I want to live more. I want to have my own scars. My own stories.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t get scarred.”
“Would you? What if a scar came from something good? Something worth the pain?”
He caught her wandering hand and pressed it flat against his chest, over his heart. She could feel it beating—strong and fast, faster than she’d expected.
“You feel that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s what you do to me. Just by existing. Just by being you.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I came to this tower looking for answers. Instead, I found you. And nothing makes sense anymore, except that I don’t want to leave.”
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because the world outside is complicated. Because your AI is actively trying to keep you prisoner. Because I have a past that might catch up with me, and I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”
“But tonight,” she said, “we don’t have to think about any of that. Tonight, it’s just us. Here. In this room.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he kissed her again—soft and tender and achingly sweet.
“Tonight,” he agreed. “Just us.”
His mouth drifted down to her neck again. When he reached the neckline of her dress, he paused.
“May I?”
“Yes.” She sat up further, suddenly impatient with the fabric separating them. “Please. I want to feel your skin against mine.”
His eyes darkened, and she realized she’d said the right thing. He reached for the fastenings of her dress, his fingers working them free with surprising dexterity.
The dress gaped open, sliding down to pool around her waist. She hadn’t given any thought to what she wore beneath it—a simple undergarment designed for comfort rather than allure—but Baylin looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I’ve never seen anything lovelier,” he said, as if reading her mind.
He traced the edge of the soft fabric, just above her breasts, and she felt her nipples tighten beneath the material, aching for his touch.
“More,” she whispered.
He obliged, his hands sliding beneath the fabric to cup her breasts. The contact sent pleasure radiating through her, sharp and sweet. She gasped, her back arching instinctively.
“Like this?” He brushed his thumbs across her nipples, and she cried out at the jolt of sensation.
“Yes. Just like that.”
His hands were warm and sure, kneading and caressing with a confidence that told her he knew exactly what he was doing. She buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him—more of his touch, more of his weight, more of everything.
When he bent to take one nipple in his mouth, wet heat surrounding the sensitive peak through the thin fabric, she nearly came off the bed.
“Baylin!”
He responded by sucking harder, his tongue working against the straining bud. His other hand continued its attentions to her neglected breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers until she was writhing beneath him.
She’d never felt anything like this. The closest she’d come was when she’d accidentally touched herself while bathing, the brief spark of sensation quickly extinguished by guilt and confusion. This was nothing like that—this was an inferno, consuming her from the inside out.
“I can’t—It’s too much—I need—”
“Shh.” He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. “I know what you need.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he was kissing her again, his mouth claiming hers as his hand slid beneath the hem of her dress. When his hand slid between her legs, finding the wetness gathering there, she froze.
“Baylin?”
“I’ve got you. Just feel.”
He stroked her gently, one finger tracing the entrance to her body while his thumb found the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured against her ear. “So ready for me.”
“For you,” she agreed breathlessly. “I’ve never—no one’s ever—”
“I know.” He kissed her temple, his thumb still moving in lazy circles. “I’ll be careful.”
She nodded, trusting him even as her body trembled with anticipation. When his finger slipped inside her, she gasped at the intrusion—the fullness, the pressure, the sheer intimacy of the act.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yes. More.”
He growled, his finger sliding in and out in a slow, careful rhythm that had her clutching at his shoulders. She was so focused on the sensation that she almost missed the second finger joining the first, stretching her further.
“Baylin,” she whimpered. “I feel... strange.”
“Good strange or bad strange?”
“Good. So good. But like I need—”
“I know what you need.” He pressed deeper, curling his fingers just right, and the wave of pleasure that crashed over her was so intense that she cried out, her body arching off the bed as she came apart in his arms.
It took a long time to come back to herself, to register the fact that he was still there, still gently touching her, still murmuring soft words of praise against her ear.
“That was...” She couldn’t find words adequate to describe what had just happened. “I didn’t know anything could feel like that.”
She whimpered again as he gently pulled his finger free, then raised the glistening digit to his mouth. Her eyes widened as he licked it, his eyes flashing.
“Fuck, you taste good.”
“Really? Can I try it?”
He groaned and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. The kiss escalated until she was moving restlessly beneath him, but then she tasted a hint of copper just as he growled and lifted his head, fangs gleaming in the darkness.