Chapter 26 #2
Silence settled.
Caelira was still sitting on the bed, knees drawn slightly inward, her hair a wild, sleep-mussed halo around her face. She pressed both hands over her mouth, shoulders shaking hard with suppressed laughter.
I couldn’t help it, a smile pulled at my lips, slow and helpless.
Gods, she was beautiful like this.
Laughing. Breathless. Glowing.
“You broke a chicken,” she whispered from behind her fingers.
I huffed a laugh, low and warm. “I didn’t break a chicken.”
“You traumatized a chicken,” she corrected, eyes sparkling. “And a goat. And… possibly the sky.”
That earned a real smile, sharp, crooked, impossible to repress.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little,” she admitted, voice soft, teasing.
I stepped closer, closing the distance inch by inch. Her gaze caught mine, bright and warm, and something inside me tightened.
“And this,” she said, eyes drifting over me, “is exactly what Joren meant by ‘the face.’”
I raised a brow. “The face?”
She nodded, biting her lip to contain another laugh.
“The one you give me when you’re… thinking things.”
“Am I?” I asked lightly.
“Oh yes,” she whispered.
The smile I gave her then, I felt it spread through me like heat.
I moved toward her, slow, deliberate, until my knees brushed the mattress and her breath hitched just slightly.
She tilted her chin up.
I leaned down, hand bracing on the mattress beside her, mouth near her cheek…
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
We both froze.
Then Joren’s voice, desperate, echoing, doomed:
“ATLAS. THE GOAT JUMPED.
IT IS ON THE LOWER ROOF.
IT IS SCREAMING MORE.
I THINK IT’S… ASCENDING.”
Caelira collapsed backward onto her elbows, dissolving into laughter so hard she nearly fell sideways. I stood very still for three long seconds, then I laughed too, sharp, incredulous, half in disbelief that this was my life now.
“Gods,” I breathed, shaking my head. “He’s going to be unbearable for weeks.”
She wiped tears from her eyes.
“We should… probably help.”
“We should,” I agreed, though I made no effort to move yet.
She looked up at me again, softening.
Warm.
Open.
And just like that, the smile on my face deepened into something quieter.
“Before we face the goat,” I said gently, “we should clean up. The courtyard is going to be worse than Joren described.”
Her smile softened into something warm enough to unmake me.
“A bath?” she asked.
I extended my hand. Her fingers slid into mine without hesitation.
“Yes,” I said, warmth threading through the word. “A bath.”
The shadows curled lazily around her ankles, content and recognizing her, and her eyes flicked down at them before rising to meet mine again.
I didn’t let go of her hand.
She didn’t pull away.
And together, laughing, breath still unsteady from Joren’s chaos, wrapped in a morning far too soft for the storms we’d made, we headed toward the bathing chamber…
To wash away the night, steady ourselves for the aftermath, and then go deal with a screaming goat on the roof.
Steam curled through the air in soft ribbons, rising from the carved stone tub as water filled it in a steady, gentle rush. The room glowed with low amber light, cast from the sconces lining the walls, warm enough to soften every edge, every breath.
Caelira stood just inside the doorway, her fingers still laced with mine. Her cheeks were flushed from laughing, her hair was a wild, tangled halo that made her look almost unreal. And the bond hummed faintly beneath my skin, a quiet echo of the night before.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked softly.
If she knew what her voice did to me…
If she knew how easily I would have followed her anywhere…
“I asked you,” I said. “Of course I don’t mind.”
Her lips curved, small, but genuine.
Gods, that smile…
I released her hand only long enough to test the water, adjusting the temperature with a flick of my fingers. The steam thickened, the air warming around us like the room itself leaned closer to listen.
When I turned back to her, she was watching me.
Not shy.
Not hesitant.
Just… open.
“Come here,” I said quietly. She moved toward me, steps slow but steady, like she wasn’t sure if she was approaching the bath or approaching me.
Maybe it was both.
I reached for her again, my fingers brushing her waist, a touch so light it made her breath catch.
She stepped closer until I could feel the heat of her body against mine.
Her voice lowered.
“Are you going to keep looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” I murmured.
She swallowed, eyes flicking to my mouth then back up again.
“Like you… can’t quite breathe.”
I brushed a curl from her cheek, my knuckles grazing her skin with slow, deliberate reverence.
“That’s because I can’t,” I told her.
Something in her expression softened, deepened, unraveling into something tender and devastating. Her hand lifted, resting lightly over my heart, and my pulse stumbled under her palm.
“Atlas…” she whispered.
Not a question.
Not a warning.
Just my name, spoken with such quiet emotion it almost brought me to my knees.
I guided her into the bath first, my hands steady at her waist as she stepped in. Water lapped against her skin, steam curling around her shoulders, and when she sank down into the heat, her eyes fluttered closed. A soft sound escaped her, a sigh that hit somewhere deep inside me.
I followed her in.
The water wrapped around us, warm and soothing, but it was her presence that stole my breath.
She drifted closer instinctively, her knees brushing mine under the water. I lifted one arm along the rim of the tub behind her, not touching, not quite, but close enough that she leaned into the warmth.
Her head found my shoulder, slow and natural, as if her body decided before she did.
And gods…
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
The quiet settled around us.
Not tense.
Not heavy.
Sacred.
Her hand lifted, trailing lazily through the water, fingertips brushing my thigh beneath the surface, accidental, maybe, but enough to send a low, heated ripple through my chest.
I turned my head toward her, voice low.
“Are you sore?”
A blush climbed her cheeks. “A little.”
I exhaled a quiet laugh. “Come here.”
She shifted toward me, and I reached up, brushing my thumb along the curve of her shoulder, kneading gently. Her breath hitched again — but this time, not from pain.
“Is that better?” I murmured.
Her eyes fluttered. “Yes.”
My hands continued their slow exploration, tracing the tension from her muscles with deliberate care. But something shifted in the air between us — a charge that made my fingers linger just a fraction longer on her skin.
I worked my way down her spine, thumbs pressing into the small of her back, and she let out a soft sound that went straight through me.
Control.
I needed control.
But then she arched into my touch, water rippling around us, and my resolve cracked. My hands slid to her waist, turning her to face me and pulling her closer. She came willingly, her body aligning with mine until I could feel every curve, every breath.
"Atlas..." Her voice was barely a whisper.
I couldn't help myself. I pressed my lips to the curve of her shoulder, tasting water and salt and her. She shivered despite the heat.
"Tell me to stop," I murmured against her skin.
"Don't."
That single word shattered me.
My mouth moved to her neck, kissing, tasting, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below her ear that made her gasp. Her fingers tangled in my hair, holding me there, and the bond flared hot and insistent between us.
"Gods, Caelira..." I breathed against her throat.
My hands roamed freely now, no longer gentle, no longer careful. One slid up to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until it peaked beneath my touch. She moaned, the sound echoing off the stone walls.
The shadows writhed at the edges of the room, responding to her rising pleasure. I kissed lower, across her collarbone, down to take her nipple in my mouth. She cried out, back arching, water sloshing over the rim of the tub.
"Please…” she gasped.
"Please what?" I murmured against her skin, though I knew. Gods, I knew.
"Touch me. I need…"
I didn't let her finish. I lifted her onto the edge of the tub, water streaming down her thighs. Her eyes went wide, dark with want, lips parted on a breath she couldn't catch.
"I'm going to taste you," I told her, voice rough. "Every inch."
She nodded, trembling.
I started at her knee, kissing up the inside of her thigh with agonizing slowness. She whimpered, fingers gripping the stone edge.
"Atlas, please…"
Higher. Another kiss. Another.
"Please what?" I asked again, looking up at her.
"Stop teasing me," she begged, and the desperation in her voice nearly undid me.
I spread her thighs wider and finally, finally, put my mouth on her pussy.
She cried out, head falling back, and I groaned at the taste of her. Sweet and perfect and mine.
I didn't hold back.
My tongue moved over her in long, deliberate strokes, learning what made her shake, what made her moan my name. I circled her clit, teased it, then sucked gently.
"Oh gods, Atlas…"
Her hips rolled against my mouth, seeking more, and I gave it to her. I devoured her like a man starving, like she was air and I'd been drowning.
The bond blazed between us, white-hot and overwhelming. Her shadows exploded outward, wrapping around us both, pulsing in time with her racing heart.
"I can't… I'm going to…”
"Let go," I commanded against her. "Come for me."
I focused on her clit, tongue moving in relentless circles, and slid two fingers inside her. She was tight and wet and perfect, clenching around me.
"Atlas!"
She shattered.
Her climax tore through her in waves, body convulsing, a broken scream ripping from her throat. The shadows went wild, the bond singing so loudly I could barely breathe through it.
I worked her through it, gentling my movements as she trembled and gasped, until she was pulling weakly at my hair. When I finally lifted my head, she was staring at me with glazed eyes, chest heaving.
I pulled her back into the water, into my arms, and she collapsed against me, boneless and shaking.
"Gods," she whispered against my neck.
I held her close, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, anywhere I could reach. The bond hummed contentedly between us now, satisfied and warm.
We stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing together.
Then she lifted her head, a small smile playing at her lips despite the flush still coloring her cheeks.
"We should handle the goat," she whispered.
I groaned. "I would rather stay here."
Her laugh echoed against my throat, bright and soft and addicting.
"We'll come back," she promised.
And gods help me, I believed her.