9 #3
“Before you become too inebriated, let’s decide on your glyphs. Unless you already know what you want.” He examines my face. “Of course you do.”
“I distracted myself with glyph set combinations while we were flying,” I confess. “It helped with the motion sickness.”
“Ah yes, our poor damaged carpet.” Vawn casts a glance at the paint vials. “If I don’t do our toes, we could sell that second vial and get the money to repair him.”
“I wonder how long that would take. I’m not sure I want to stay here in Zeletas past morning. Too risky.”
“We need him for the flight through the mountains,” Vawn says. “And if we have to suffer through another sickening journey like the one through the foothills, I shall give myself up to the purple fellows.”
I glance at him sharply, remembering his speech from last night, but he shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I’m joking. I’m not in the darkness right now.”
“If we sell the second vial, you won’t have all your usual glyphs for calm and apathy,” I remind him.
“True. I’ll have to find other ways to cope with the despair, other methods of introducing pleasant thoughts and feelings to my traitorous brain.
” He hands me his cigarette and plucks a damp rag from the nightstand, one he must have fetched from the shared bathroom down the hall.
Scooting to the edge of his bed, he reaches for my free hand.
I’m already perched on my mattress, and since the two beds are only a step apart, we’re within arm’s length. I let him take my fingertips and he begins wiping them off carefully, one by one.
“I miss sex,” he says quietly. “I fear I’ve become addicted to it, like I am to all pleasures. Like those.” He nods to the cigarette.
“How sad for you. Poor prince, celibate for three days.” Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe I’m becoming addicted, too—enamored with teasing him. I keep my eyes on his while I place the end of his cigarette in my mouth and close my lips over the spot where his lips were, just a moment ago.
The prince holds my hand, still cleaning my fingernails as he watches me inhale. I release the smoke expertly, then hold the cigarette to his mouth. His lips seal over the end and he takes a long pull.
The purple smoke forms a glimmering haze between us, scented with violets. A tingling rush spread through my body, centering between my legs.
Vawn lays aside the cloth and lifts my hand, inspecting my nails for flaws he might need to repair.
“There’s a little crack starting on this one.” I wiggle the third finger of my right hand.
“I see it.” He fiddles with my nail repair kit and finds the tiny tube of glue. I continue smoking as he reinforces the nail. “You like them rounded?” he confirms.
“Yes.”
He lifts each of my fingers and uses the file to shape my nails expertly. His touch is light, firm, and practiced, and I feel every brush of his smooth skin like a gush of incandescent pleasure between my legs.
“You have exquisite fingers,” he says. “Beautiful hands.”
“Thank you, your Highness.”
At the honorific, his gaze lifts to mine, silver heat pooling in his eyes. His expression asks me a silent, burning question, which I avoid by glancing away.
“Tell me the glyphs you’ve chosen.” His voice is deeper than usual, with a rasp of restraint in the depth of it.
“Well, when the Forestry Guard is maintaining the roads or traveling through the valleys of the Red Mountains, they use a specific glyph combination. Perception, shockwave, strength, and accuracy, over and over. So I’d like strength on both thumbs, my usual shield glyph on my right index finger, perception on both middle fingers, and then three shockwaves, one accuracy, and one stealth. ”
“Excellent choices. You’ve studied the craft well.”
“So have you. I enjoy your expertise.” Right after I speak the words, I frown.
Was that an odd thing to say? I’m so warm with wine that I can’t tell anymore.
But I manage to sit perfectly still for him while he crafts the glyphs I requested.
It takes nearly half an hour, and by the end, my second glass of wine is gone and the cigarette is ashes in the little dish on the nightstand.
Watching the prince of Belavrin bend his head over my hands and use his breath to dry my nails is too erotic for me to handle in my current state. I press my thighs together and hope that my arousal isn’t so copious that it’s seeping through my dress.
Vawn varnishes my nails, then paints seven more glyphs on his own, finishing off all but a few drops of the paint sample. After two sealing coats for both of us, the varnish bottle is half empty. We haven’t touched our second paint sample, though.
“This would fetch an even higher price than usual, since no one else got any.” I touch it lightly with one fingertip. “I wonder what made this batch so special.”
“If things had gone according to plan, they would have announced its unique features, and we would have each gotten a tag with more information,” Vawn says.
“As it is, I can only guess. There’s a unique luster to this formulation that could indicate the inclusion of unicorn bone powder in the paint itself, not just the varnish. That would enhance durability.”
“Hm.” I lie back against my pillows, inspecting my nails.
“You did so well. I can’t believe I got these for free.
Last time I had to dance at the Lycan every night for a year and do the touch pod on my off days to afford a set.
So many hands squishing my tits, squeezing and poking my pussy. I didn’t like it.”
My words slur a little, and I have the vague sense that I wouldn’t usually be so honest. But in this moment, I like honesty. Transparency is good. Openness is good. I want to be open to the beautiful prince, in every way.