50. Chapter Fifty
Eventually, the crying ceases. With the freshest emotions cleansed, I’m able to inhale more easily than ever before. Grief and betrayal weigh on my heart, but it’s at a manageable level.
A headache batters my skull, though. I can’t remember when I last ate. In the darkness, with Kyrielle, it doesn’t matter.
She was ready to burn down my door because she thought I was in danger. What I didn’t tell her was that I’d only just realized I wouldn’t kill myself mere moments before she banged on the door.
Because I did consider it.
The idea of existing the rest of my life with this drain of shame sucking the life out of me …
Who would want to exist like that?
The betrayal of Fynn … we’ll never be the same.
He knows Father’s death is my debt to reap.
Has acknowledged it repeatedly. Even if he were unaware of the electrocution punishments, he literally electrocuted me.
Dragons have unimaginable powers over the elements.
It’s a privilege from Fortuna and should never be used for anything less than noble reasons.
Perhaps Fynn felt it noble to save his father — or me from possible prison. Possibly both. Which is why I challenged him to a Cairanin; something I definitely need to inform Kyrielle about.
After we eat.
“Are you hungry, Firefly?” I examine her shadowed face. She’s cried with me a few times. I’m sure she’s at least half as hungry as I am. And I’m starving.
“Yeah, definitely.”
I go to kiss her on the cheek and accidentally kiss her eye.
“Ugh! That was my eyeball!” she says, laughing.
“I meant to do that.” I’m trying to sound serious as I strike for another spot blindly, catching the opposite eyebrow.
“Trinte!” she laughs again, pushing me off. I strike again, landing one on her cheek, earning a cute giggle.
Shifting, I lay her out on the couch while I stand. “How does a peanut butter and pickle sandwich sound?”
“Disturbing. I’ll take three.”
“Three, coming right up.” With one last look at her laid out on the couch, I head into the kitchen and begin preparing our mini-feast. Everything in me feels so much lighter. It’s just devastating that this lightness has anything to do with Fynn hurting me.
I want to fix it. His intentions were undoubtedly pure.
But that kill was mine, and he knows it.
I’m still furious, but I’m a little ashamed of how hard I let myself hit him.
Orliana was so terrified. That makes me sick to my stomach.
There’s a good chance I triggered her, and that makes me want to shrivel from shame.
I’m a fountain of shame at this point, especially when I realize Fynn probably didn’t electrocute me to save either of us — he did it for Orliana. My skin had been smoking, and he was undoubtedly aware my control was barely there.
He electrocuted his brother to save his future wife.
Because I broke my promise. I swore that I wouldn’t ever try to kill Father around her. That promise was broken. I respect and understand why he’d chosen her.
Aside from all of that, there's no reason for that piece of shit to appear at headquarters. He’s never been invited. So why was he there?
And now … there’s the Cairanin.
Kyrielle is going to be furious.
Bringing the sandwiches to the stunning Fire Sprite, I hand her a plate and reach toward the lamp on the end table. “I need to tell you something.”
She blinks as the light turns on. It’s still dim, with warm orange light barely filling the shadows.
Right before taking a bite, she says, “What?”
“I challenged my father to a Cairanin.”
Her expression doesn’t change. “What’s that?”
Hesitating, I churn the words in my mouth, swallowing hard. “A fight to the death.”
Hand freezing in front of her open mouth, Kyrielle stares. Calmly placing the food onto the plate, she says, “You did what now?”
“Challenged him to a death dive. Where two Dragons go high in the sky and try to push the other one down to the ground. If one isn’t killed in the air, whichever one lands first is executed by magyck.”
The flushed color drains from her face. “Take it back.”
“No.”
She jerks her head back in disbelief. Like I’ve dealt a physical blow. “What do you mean ‘no?’” She tosses the plate onto the coffee table angrily. “You said you wouldn’t do anything to make me sad. And you dying, plummeting to your death, is definitely going to do that.”
“I can’t take it back,” I say calmly, even though my chest vibrates from the rapid pumping of screaming blood. “Dragon magyck seals it the moment the words are said. There’s no undoing it. It must happen. Whoever refuses will die regardless.”
“No!” She raises a hand to her mouth, tears already falling. “Find a way, Trinte.”
“There is none.”
Kyrielle reels her fist back and punches me in the chest.
“Ow!” I exclaim, rubbing the sore spot. “That almost hurt.”
“I’m going to kill you if you die, Trinte Gleanscale.” Her face is puffy and red. Aching at my selfish decision, I wrap her in my arms, feeling the sobs violently shake her body.
My fault.
“I’m sorry, Firefly. I wasn’t thinking. But it’ll be okay. I’ll survive.”
She wipes tears and snot on my shirt. “How do you know?”
“Because Fynn and I used to practice doing it when we were younger and far less aware of our mortality. It’s been a while, but I’m not inexperienced.”
“Not the same,” she wails.
I stroke her hair, unable to stop smiling. This is what it feels like to be loved. She might not be comfortable saying it yet, but I’m fairly certain she feels it, too.
“Baby girl, please stop crying. He’s older, but I’m stronger. Before Fynn did what he did, I had my father pinned down.”
“But is he a better flier?”
“I don’t know anymore,” I admit. “But I’m strong.” Kissing her forehead, I say, “Plus, I have something to live for. He has nothing.”
Kyrielle curls into my lap like a sphinx kitten, snuggling into my arms. My heart might literally burst from the amount of love it contains. If you split me in half, you’ll find a hollow spot being slowly filled by her happy sighs.
I play with her hair, staring off into space while she processes. I should also process it, but for now, I just want to enjoy this intimacy. Either I die, or I don’t. I’m going to make every second count until we find out together.
“Can I stay tonight?” she says quietly.
“You can stay every night.”
“Maybe not every night. You’re kind of a bed hog.”
“I’ll get a bigger bed.”
“I like your version of solutions.”
“That’s me; Trinte the Solution Finder.”
“I don’t like all of your solutions.”
“I never claimed to be perfect.”
She laughs. “That’s for certain.” Kyrielle uncurls herself and reaches for the rest of her meal. When she’s done, I bring our plates to the kitchen.
She’s standing by the couch when I return. “I’m exhausted.”
Exhausted isn’t a strong enough word for what weighs me down physically. “Me too. I need to shower, though. There’s no way I’m crawling into bed like this.”
Kyrielle quirks a smile. “Do you want company?”
“Firefly, when will you understand I’ll always want your company?” I reach out with a hand. She slides her hand into mine, her expression turning shy.
Leading her to the bathroom, I turn on the shower and set it to the temperature I know she likes. While she stands on a bath mat, I grab us two fresh towels. Steam fills the space as I lay them out.
Turning to face her, I drink her in for a moment.
Her eyes are puffy from crying, and her hair’s a mess.
She gnaws on a lip, watching me for some signal.
I’ve seen her naked a few times, but I’ve never been fully naked around her.
During our hookup in the restaurant bathroom, my shirt stayed on with my pants around my ankles.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, trying to hide my anxiety.
She takes off her shirt, revealing uncovered breasts with pebbled nipples. Instantly, my breath quickens. Not willing to let her do all the labor, I take mine off.
Inferno-colored eyes trail down my torso, stopping at my trousers. She raises an eyebrow; a silent order.
Undoing my belt, I enjoy the way her throat bobs at the sound. Her eyes never leave my fingers as they unbutton and unzip. Hooking my thumbs into the tops of my trousers and boxer briefs, I slide them down my hips. They fall into a heap at my feet.
Kyrielle keeps staring at my half-hard erection. Bringing my hand parallel to it, I motion for her to look up. “Eyes up here, pretty girl. Your turn.”
She’s naked faster than I can blink. Over the pounding water inside the shower, I can hear her rapid breaths matching mine.
Now that we aren’t in circumstances demanding decorum, I allow myself to look my fill.
Using my eyes to trace her curves, I take in the various heat signatures of her body.
The heat between her thighs increases. Her thumb worries a cuticle as she tries to hide her nervousness.
“You’re exquisite,” I murmur, aching to run my hands over her body, to feel all of that power encased in softness.
She grins. “I want to climb you like a tree.”
I open the shower door, motioning for her to step inside. “Let me wash off first, and then you can be my little squirrel.”
When she walks by, I lean down and give her ass cheek a little smack. Kyrielle squeals, swatting my hand away.
“Is that considered slow, Mr. Gleanscale?”
For a split second, my mind is consumed with the vision of being inside her, thrusting deep and slow. My mouth goes dry as my cock goes rigid.
“I can try again, but slower, if you want.”
She giggles, stepping into the hot spray. My shower is big, but with the two of us, I’m still crowding her space.
I desperately want to crowd it more.
When I close the shower door, she steps aside. “Go on. I showered already, so this is just a bonus.”
We switch spots; she laughs when I groan at the simple pleasure of hot water on skin. Dipping my head back, I close my eyes, soaking my hair.
My eyes flash open with surprise when a hand slides from my navel to my chest. I look down, grinning. “Firefly, were you under the impression that this was to be a sexy shower?”
“What?” she says innocently. “I’m helping you get clean.”
I raise an eyebrow. “With no soap?”
Kyrielle looks around, spotting the bottle. Picking it up, she squirts some into her palm. My cock twitches; what is she about to do?
"Can I touch you?" Carefully watching my reaction, she reaches for my cock.
"I might die if you don't."
When her wet, soapy hand wraps around its length, I hiss through my teeth. When my knees almost buckle, I slam a hand to the tiled wall. “Sweet goddesses fucking, Kyrielle.”
“What?” she repeats, this time with a knowing grin. “I’m helping.” Her eyes flick to the shampoo. “Go on. Wash your hair.”
She expects me to wash my hair while she works my cock like this? “You’re delusional if you think—”
Her hand stops. “Either wash your hair or I’ll stand here with unused soap in my hands.”
The moment my hand reaches for the bottle, hers begins moving again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I squirt shampoo into my hand. “You’re going to be the death of me, Kyrielle.”
“But what a wonderful death,” she says sweetly, fisting circles around the swollen head. The bottle of shampoo slips from my hand, and I fumble to catch it, cursing under my breath.
Hands shaking, I try to focus on spreading the shampoo through my hair, but her other hand is now cupping my balls. My hips thrust forward, desperate for more friction. I’m not even sure if all of my hair is cleaned as I rush to wash out the suds.
“Conditioner next,” she orders, tightening her grip. Stars fill my vision; I let out a guttural moan.
With a pleading expression, I say, “Kyrielle, I—”
To emphasize her sincerity, both of her hands halt. “Now.”
Pleasure is an inferno, scalding the base of my spine as an orgasm builds. When I grab the conditioner, her hands move. Giving her a look promising vengeance, I growl, “You’re going to pay for this.”
“Promises, promises,” she murmurs, now using both hands to torture me. One works the head, with the other twisting at the base. It’s utterly fucking maddening. There’s no way my hair is actually getting clean right now.
When it’s all rinsed out, I take a few steps forward, forcing her to stumble back against the tiled wall. Pressing my hands above her head, I peer down at this troublesome and glorious Fire Sprite. Those blasted hands continue torturing me. Water drips from the tip of my nose onto her open mouth.
“Firefly, I’m going to fuck your hands, but I want you to use your imagination the whole time. Understood?”
Eyes wide, she nods. When I thrust forward, she inhales sharply. My pace starts slow, testing the waters as I stare deep into her eyes.
“Tighter,” I demand, almost growling. When she obeys, I let out the softest whimper as the intense pleasure electrifies my nerves. Imagining her heat wrapped around my cock, I thrust hard and deep. Our breaths match in rapid tandem as I increase my speed.
When her top hand shifts upward, forcing the head of my cock to shove into her tight palm, I groan, dropping my head. This is penultimate bliss; there’s so much more in our future.
“Fuck, Firefly. And to think your pussy will be even better.”
“Do you remember what my tight pussy feels like?” She gasps as my hips rut into her grip at the memory.
“I’ve spent months remembering it,” I mutter. My hips move of their own accord now, recalling each thrust I gave her all those nights ago. “And one day soon, I’m going to fuck you so hard, so thoroughly, it’s all you’ll ever think about.”
Bringing a hand to her wet hair, I fist it roughly as I slam into her hands. She’s not moving them now, allowing me to do all of the work. “Do you remember the way you felt when I slid into you that first time?”
Kyrielle whimpers, speechless.
“Me too,” I growl. The orgasm is building to a crescendo. My breaths come in too rapidly to speak now. Never breaking my focus on her face, I fuck her hands at a punishing pace. Showing her exactly what to expect soon.
The pleasure rips through me, tightening my muscles. Releasing into her hands, I let out a low moan of satisfaction. Everything throbs with aftershocks of gratification.
We stare at one another with jagged breaths. Her grip loosens; my hips jerk at another wave of pleasure.
“Did you use your imagination, Firefly?” I murmur, releasing her hair.
“To maximum capacity,” she confirms.
Trailing my knuckles down her body, I bring two fingers between her thighs. Dipping my fingers into her wet heat, I savor the little breathy moan escaping past her lips.
Circling her clit with my thumb, I work her until she’s panting. Kyrielle is so close to cumming, it takes less than thirty seconds before she’s clawing at my arms and mewling my name.
It’s not enough, though.
With a growl of satisfaction, I promise, “I’m going to make this mine later.”
Kyrielle’s smile is so pure and innocent. “It’s already yours.”