Chapter 72 Taera #2
“I want you out of these robes,” comes a low growl at my back. The flat of his palm teases up my stomach, fisting the soft fabric, but again he stops just below my breasts. I bite my lip, wishing his hands would travel higher, squeeze me in a way I never knew I wanted.
“Your robes,” he mutters into my neck, nipping at me. Then he lifts his head and pins me with the full intensity of his emerald eyes. My hands find his hair and my fingers clutch silken gold, pulling his lips down to my collarbone.
“Tell me how much skin you want exposed, or you’re going to end up naked.”
“Underpants,” I gasp. “I want underpants.”
He growls his approval, grabbing a handful of my garments. The contents of his fist start to smoke before bursting into blue flames. I yelp, but the fire only tickles as it dashes across the fabric, burning my robes into nothing. When I see what’s underneath, my breath hitches.
I expected Nikolai to leave me partially covered, but not… like this.
Red lace dips down from my hips, a low triangle between my legs. It’s as soft as the blue he burned away, only now the delicate material is taut against the most intimate parts of me. I shift back and forth, gasping at the little zings of pleasure where it tightens against me.
Across my chest, matching red lace crescents the curves of my breasts, barely covering my nipples. The outfit is stunning. It’s fit for a queen—or a magician.
I’m squirming, vulnerable beneath him. Nikolai has seen dozens of illusionists far more beautiful than I am, and yet when I tentatively peek up at him…
His gaze scorches. Emerald eyes practically glow as they roam across my skin, devouring me. I can feel the tension of tightly leashed desire behind his touch as he traces a finger down the center of my chest. He catches on the lace that binds my breasts.
“I don’t need this,” I whisper, lifting my own fingers to the garment, brushing them across my nipples, which are pebbled and aching beneath the thin fabric.
“I know. But I’ve been imagining what it would be like to tear your clothes off.”
The idea of Nikolai fantasizing about me hadn’t ever occurred to me. Now, the thought threatens to incinerate me. I whimper. Then, because I want to hear it again, I ask, “You have?”
“Fuck, yes. It’s partly why I like to dress you,” he murmurs, toying with the lace in the middle of my chest before pinching it and ripping it down the center. The thin red pieces tumble to the side, exposing my peaked brown nipples.
He groans, grinning at the same time. “I’ve always wanted to see how far down these freckles go.”
The fact that my sun-speckled skin intrigues him makes me want to squirm, but I’m still pinned by his gaze.
“I’d like to kiss you now.” He traces—infuriatingly slowly—around the swell of my breast. “Here.” His thumb brushes my nipple, and a small, desperate sound escapes me. “Here.” He descends my ribs, my belly button, and stops right above my panties. “Here.”
My body is quivering, and my lips curve into the word please.
He lowers his lips to my chest, sending magic cascading over my skin.
When his hot mouth finds my nipple, I arch into him, craving more—crying out—and suddenly remember the heat of the second body behind me.
A soothing hand rubs down my arm. Another Nikolai.
I’m struck by doubt.
Is he touching me, or is it the illusion of him? Or maybe both of these figures are fake, only figments of my imagination? Like all the other sources. He could be laughing right now, barely touching me, while I pant and plead over some copy of him.
I swallow, going cold. Given how inexperienced I am compared to him, maybe it’s better this is just an illusion, so I don’t disappoint him.
The magician—or illusion—lifts his head and fixes me with concerned eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he breathes, his lips still pink and wet from driving my body wild. But I just stare past him, unseeing.
“What’s going on?” He’s frowning at me, and when I don’t respond, he freezes, his expression falling behind an inscrutable mask. “Did we take things too far?”
“No, I—” I scramble for words. “It’s just… is it really you?”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“There are two of you. How do I know if you’re touching me, or if it’s not really you?” I say, panicked.
His brow furrows. “Taera, my magic is me.”
“I don’t want two of you,” I say, shaking my head. I’m embarrassed by my own outburst, wishing I hadn’t broken the moment. But I can’t stop fixating on whether it’s actually Nikolai who’s here with me.
“Done,” he says, and the double version of him—the one behind me—disappears into nothing. “It’s just me.”
“How do I know?” My voice is small, ashamed.
He’s silent, expressionless. Finally, “You don’t trust me.”
“I want to.” My eyes plead with him. “But how do I know if any of this is real? You’re still too beautiful to be real.”
He stiffens. “This is who I am.”
“You don’t ever take your illusions down, do you?” I dread his response.
“No.”
“Even for your family.” The horror of it engulfs me, the perpetual mask he won’t take off.
“No.”
“Why?” I plead. Even words might be enough to believe him.
“Don’t ask me that, Taera.”
“Why not?”
“Please, don’t do this.” His voice catches between harsh and miserable.
I swallow back retorts that will only bruise. “Why do you need the mask?”
He’s quiet for a long time, emotions flickering through his eyes even after his face turns to stone. From his harsh exhale, I suspect he’s trying not to lash out at me.
“I want to see who you really are,” I say anyway.
“This is who I am.” His tone is dangerous. I bite my lip, stifling my sudden urge to cry.
“But what we’re doing, it’s…” I ache for a way to reach him, to make him understand. “It’s the most intimate thing you can do with a person. And I want to do it with you. I want you to be my first, Nikolai. I just want to know it’s real.”
He looks like he’s been struck. “Taera, I—”
“I know,” I say. “Tomorrow, you’ll take me back to my village, and then you’ll never have to see me again.”
“I’ll check on you,” he mumbles, looking almost ashamed. “I’ll make sure no one takes your magic.”
I don’t dare let hope spark in me at the idea of seeing him again. Whenever “again” means, for Nikolai. I have to remind myself it will be over. He’ll move on to another source, probably as soon as he returns to the Halls of Glass. I let out a shaky breath.
“I like you, Nikolai. If you let me, I’d probably fall in love with you.” I make myself hold those green eyes, even as he goes expressionless behind the indifference I recognize too well. It stings.
“I can’t,” he says, the roughness of his voice giving away his emotion. “I’m sorry.”
I smile softly. “I know.”
“Taera—” he says.
“I’m not like you and the other magicians,” I say. “I haven’t been with anyone else, and I can’t treat it the way that you do, like it’s nothing.”
He sounds choked. “You’ll find someone else. Someone who deserves you.”
“Yeah.” I make myself lie for him. Because there’s no replacing Nikolai, or his breathtaking, devastating world. Once I return to my village, my life will be small and unimportant compared to the Halls of Glass and the memory of my magician.
There I go again, calling him mine. I swallow the lump in my throat, correcting myself.
“Just for tonight…” My voice trembles as I try to admit it. “I want you anyway. All of you—even with the mask.”
He shakes his head, pulling away. “I can’t, Taera. This is too important to you.”
Nikolai rises gracefully from the bed, regret staining his perfect features. He backs away, giving me one more agonized look before turning his back.
I watch the plain wooden door close behind him.
My heartbreak came sooner than expected.