20 TALIESIN
I step inside through the French doors, and click the lock. It’s fully dark now, but my eyes have no difficulty seeing.
And what I see is a heap of sleeping bodies.
What I smell is a mish-mash of scents: wet clothing, food, stale sweat, central air—and her.
There she is, stumbling into the room from the kitchen. Rory is pale, drowning in a man's sweater and looks completely beat. My feet automatically move towards her like she’s a magnet. “Hey,” I whisper softly, running a hand down her back.
“Hey, all good out there?”
“Yeah, it’s completely quiet. If anyone had seen us arrive, we would have had company by now.” I glance at the grandfather clock in the hallway. It’s after midnight. “And I can’t see the owners turning up at this hour, can you?”
She shrugs. “It’s hard to wrap my head around the idea of being safe, even for a minute.”
“I know, but we have to rest.” I wrap my arms around her. “Your nervous system needs to settle or you’re going to collapse.” A shiver runs through her despite the heating. “Why don’t you have a shower, clean up properly?” I suggest.
Rory leans her head against me. “A shower? Gods, that would be amazing.”
“Come on.” Taking her hand, I pull her into the hallway, then open several doors until I find what is obviously a downstairs guest bedroom with an attached en-suite. Perfect—still within earshot of the living room.
As Aurora pokes around the room, I set the water running until steam clouds start filling the small space. “Here, babe. Come get clean.”
She drifts, almost sleepwalking, into the bathroom. Before I have a chance to turn away, she’s taking off her clothes, blind to anything but the need for hot water.
“I’ll wait outside.” I say, but I don’t look away, I can’t.
Rory looks up and blinks, realizing she’s standing in front of me stripped down to her underwear. “Oh. Er…” Her eyes flick past me to the dark bedroom, then back to the roaring shower. “Will you wait in here with me? I—I don’t want to be alone.”
I tear my eyes away from her perfect delicate curves and clear my throat.
“Sure, no problem.” I expect her to move into the shower, but she doesn’t.
She just stands there, eyes huge as a tear begins to track down her face.
I rake my fingers across my scalp wanting to take her in my arms again, but she’s in a bra and panties.
I don’t want to cross a boundary. Freak her out.
“Talk to me, Rory,” I say, trying to ignore all the blood my body is sending to my dick.
“Is he d—dead?” Her voice cracks.
I know immediately who she’s talking about. Shit. “I very much doubt it. And one thing's for sure, knowing Francois’s obsession, he’ll make his way back to you as soon as he can.”
She inhales then lets out a sob.
Should I be jealous that she’s crying for de Vaux? Wanting him safe?
No. All I want is for her to be secure and happy. Have everything she needs, and if that includes the snake, so be it.
I move closer. Her breaths are getting panicky, so I slide an arm around her slim waist and pull her against my chest. Her fingers automatically snake behind my head and she leans in. As I rub her back I feel her begin to relax slightly. Her skin feels like velvet under my calloused palms.
And there is no hiding my hard cock pressed up against her stomach. It doesn’t appear to be freaking her out, so I just keep doing the soothing movements and hope she realizes I’m not trying to get a cheap thrill.
She mumbles something into my chest.
“What was that, Princess?”
“Will you shower with me?”
Fuck.
“Yes.”
I shuck off my clothing, leaving me in prison-issued boxers. We stand in our underwear, looking at each other and holding hands. A small smile forms on her lips. “Kinda different from the Quo shower scene. No Dot bending over to make sure her crack is plenty clean.”
My grimace makes a laugh bubble up from her throat. When I open the glass door and pull her inside, we exhale at the same time as the water hits our skin.
Fucking magical.
On a shelf is a selection of shampoos and shit. “Turn around.”
Some kind of fruity smell blooms in the steam as I massage shampoo into her hair. As she rinses, I wash my own.
“Is there conditioner?” she asks.
Conditioner?
I look through the bottles and hand her the one marked ‘volumizing’.
I’m not a complete ape, I know what conditioner is, but it’s not something that was ever in our home growing up.
She massages it into the ends of her hair as I take another bottle that announces it’s ‘stress relief bodywash’.
I put a blob on my palm, then get her to turn away again, rubbing the soap into her shoulders, then down the smooth expanse of her back, skimming over the wet bra strap.
The moan that escapes her is pure torture.
So is the next moment. Aurora, still with her back turned, peels off the sports bra. After a pause, she bends slightly and removes her panties as well.
Fuck.
I remind myself very firmly that this is not an invitation, it’s an exhausted girl desperate to get warm and clean. I’m not sure what to do with my hands now, so I soap my own chest and pits.
“Tally?”
“Yeah, babe?”
She turns, her naked perfection wet and steaming. “Wash me.”
My breath hitches, and I nod, dumbly unable to vocalize a single word. Instead I pour more soap into my palm and then… just stand there like an idiot.
She takes my hand and brings it up to her chest, right into the center of her breasts. My cock jerks, fucking thing, no control.
I take a deep breath through my nose and allow my hand to glide in the valley, brushing the inner edge of her perfect pert mounds. And her nipples harden.
This time it’s me that groans. Fuck, I need clarity. “What’s happening here, babe,” I croak.
She looks up at me, water caught in her long lashes. “I don’t know, Tally. I don’t know anything. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, what’s going to happen next week. But I do know I want you to touch me. I—I haven’t been touched before…and I want it to be you.”
My heart flips the fuck out.
Bringing my head down, I gently capture her lips with mine. She’s so soft. She kisses me back, it’s slightly clumsy, a little unsure, and utterly divine. I brush my tongue against hers and she makes a small groan.
My hands act under their own volition, wrapping around her until her wet form is pressed up against mine. She arches slightly, pressing her pelvis into my thigh. I think it’s a completely unconscious act, but I’m not sure.
I’m not sure of anything apart from this girl. My hand skims down her hip as her own hands run over my buzzed scalp. I can feel her tight, hard nipples pressing against me and know if I’m not careful, my control is going to go out the window.
No. I won’t do that.
She’s more precious than anything. I want her first touches to be at a pace that keeps her secure.
Moving my hand between us, I palm her soapy, slippery breast, skimming my thumb over her nipples.
She pulls away from my mouth. “Oh, Gods, Tally.”
“I want to make you feel good, Rory. Let me make you feel good.”
“Yes.”
I look into her eyes and she repeats the word. “Yes.”
I run the tip of my finger down from her nipple, across her toned stomach, then trail it further, teasing the top of a triangle of fine golden hair. Her eyes flicker closed. I won’t demand she open them, look at me. This is for her and I want her to experience pleasure in whatever way feels best.
My other hand has traveled to her delicious ass, curved and high from a million pliés or whatever the fuck those ballet moves are.
I skirt my fingers where the top of her thigh and ass meet, then cup the perfect globe, squeezing slightly, all the while teasing her sweet patch of hair, not moving any further down to the fucking paradise that awaits.
Her breathing is rapid, but not panicked. She squirms against me, not able to voice her desires, but showing me with her body. I lower my finger a little more and take one tiny dive into her folds.
Divine, silky fluids are soaking her. I drag the cream up through her lips, skimming her clit.
“TALLY!” I feel her whole pussy quiver. Fuck, she could come in two seconds. And while I want to drag this out forever, to never ever stop, I know it’s getting harder and harder not to rub my cock against her thigh, pleasuring myself as much as her.
Not today, Taliesin. Not today.
So instead, I dip my head, teasing her nipple with my tongue, then once again bring my finger into her folds. I don’t even try to dip into her tight entrance; I just focus entirely on the external heat, sliding my finger rhythmically against the side of her clit.
Sliding my finger against the side of her clit, she starts to shudder and her eyes fly open. “Oh, gods, oh gods.”
The flesh of her pussy swells, pulses then she calls out, arching her neck. As I feel a flood of hotness soak my fingers, it takes everything in me not to bite her exposed throat. Must be a wolf thing.
Do. Not. Bite.
My cock is painfully hard, but I keep her riding my fingers until the orgasm finally fades. She collapses into me, panting. “Fuck, I never, fuck…”
“You’re so fucking beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. More beautiful than I could even imagine.”
She smiles up at me, a little shyly. “You’ve imagined me? What did I look like?”
“Fuck, baby. I’ve imagined your perfect tits, your glorious pussy, and most of all, how you’d look when I made you fall apart.”
Even though her skin is flushed from the hot water, more pink stains her cheeks. I fucking love it. I turn the dials of the shower until the water dribbles to a stop, then open the door and grab a towel. “Here, let’s get you dry.”
As I hand the towel to her, her eyes drop to my dick, firmly jammed in my boxers waistband.
She bites her lip. “I know I’m not very experienced, but what about…” she nods her head downward.
“Don’t worry about me, Rory. This was all for you. Now come on, there have to be some more snuggly clothes in this place.”
Fifteen minutes later the two of us sit outside on the porch. Each of us is holding a mug of hot chocolate, a shared blanket over our knees as the porch swing gently rocks.
The chill of the coastal night is sharp, but the wool throw keeps us comfortably warm.
The invisible threads of our bond are humming stronger than ever.
But in among the golden vibrations, enriched by our intimacy, is a sour flavor. Her ongoing worry for de Vaux. I know she’s still seeing the churning water filled with blood.
“He’s out there, Rory,” I tell her, pulling her closer into my heat. “Probably sitting on a rock somewhere right now, cursing the saltwater for ruining his perfect hair.”
A sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh, catches in her throat. “I hope you’re right. He’s very proud of those glossy dark locks.”
“He may be pretty, but he’s tough, Princess. And he knows you’re waiting. He won’t let you down. He’s far too arrogant to fail.”
She sighs deeply. “I never used to care if people went away. I had no attachments to anyone. Sometimes I’d dream of my parents dying in a car crash—I’d wish for it. That’s terrible, isn’t it?”
Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Those fuckers didn’t deserve to have Aurora Drakeward as their daughter.
“It was a survival mechanism, babe, nothing to be ashamed of,” I respond. “You had no frame of reference for love, or care.” I pause, then take a deep breath. “I hope you’re getting to understand those feelings now. I hope you feel cared for, loved.”
She lifts her head, eyes glittering. “I-I do. But, Tally…is it wrong to care for more than one person?” Anxiety thrums along our connection.
“Absolutely not. And if you’re asking if it’s wrong to care for more than one man, in a… romantic way, then I don’t think that’s wrong either. Especially with these strange threads that attach us all. You, me, the faun and de Vaux. You can’t reject gifts that the Gods give you.”
“You believe in the Gods? Fate and all that?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I think so. There has to be something behind this whole fucked up world. I can’t believe we’re just floating in space for no reason.”
She doesn’t reply, just snuggles into me further.
We look out over the dark ocean, listening to the waves in the distance.
A nightjar calls, and then an owl.
After a while, her breathing becomes deep and rhythmic, matching the steady rise and fall of my chest. I’d give anything to stay here, just like this, for the whole night, but it’s safer inside.
She’s safer behind a locked door with London and the children. I’ll shift again and patrol until the sun comes up.
Sleep can wait.
Her safety never can.