47. Chapter Forty-Seven
That man was ruining my fucking life.
As I soaked my aching muscles in a tub filled to the absolute brim with hot water and frothing, self-indulgent bubbles, that was all I could even hope to think about.
Him.
As one hand slid between my thighs, the tips of my fingers slipping past the slickness I found there and coaxing that liquid heat towards my swelling clit in a slow, rhythmic motion, all I even wanted to think about was him. And this was nothing new.
Night after night, for months now, I could only ever get myself off to the thought of Kieran godsdamned Vistarii.
Asking? I’m not asking.
I could hear his rasping croon against the shell of my ear as though the captain was right here in the room with me, watching me arch my back and tug on one of my nipples from the shadows. Gods, if only.
It was hard to describe the strange sense of helplessness, the jarring loss, the ache of absence that I’d felt once Kieran dropped me back off at my apartment. And it was even harder to explain, even to myself, why I felt so godsdamn desperate for him as of late.
It had taken every ounce of willpower I had not to ask him to come inside. Still, he’d lingered—one arm hanging off my door frame as he gazed down at me, eyes a little hazy.
“You did very well today, Arken,” he’d murmured gently. “I’m impressed.”
“I bet you say that to all your trainees,” I’d breathed back.
“Mm, not quite. It takes a lot to earn my praise.”
Fuck me.
I groaned softly at the memory, my fingers moving faster, applying a bit more pressure as I thought of the myriad of ways I might capture myself more of Kieran’s praise.
Gods, I wanted him—and simultaneously loathed him right about now. I hated the way Kieran kept hold on his willpower so steadily, while mine seemed to wriggle and writhe around in my hands like a venomous serpent. For just a fraction of a second, my favorite person in the world had become my bitter rival, if only because he’d managed to walk away.
You’ll just have to try harder next time.
Through grit teeth, I clamped down hard on that thought. No. There would be no trying harder, I had already pushed the edge of our boundaries more than I should have today.
I knew that I was the instigator of my own torment this afternoon, what with every teasing quip I tossed his way. I just… couldn’t help myself. I was admittedly still clinging to that tiny seed of jealousy he’d planted in my chest last week, the moment I saw him slip his hand around another woman’s waist, murmuring something in her ear.
That isn’t fair, and you know it.
I did. I knew that Kieran had no intention of running into Laurel and I that night—he would never purposefully bait me like that. He had just been doing what he did best, seeking out his temporary solace by seducing some poor soul who wouldn’t know what to do with herself by the time she crawled out of his bed. Because I didn’t have to fuck Kieran myself to know that the sex would be earth-shattering. Between the two of us? Realm-rending.
Everything about that man was life-altering, for better or for worse.
But no matter how heavily I yearned, no matter how deeply I ached, the longing I felt for Kieran and all these furtive fantasies were such a small price to pay for the pleasure of his company. I was content to pant after him from the comfort of my own sheets if it meant I could keep this friendship intact.
Am I supposed to pretend that I don’t find you attractive, Arken? Or that I don’t enjoy touching you?
I sucked in a sharp breath as the sound of his voice returned, a phantom echo in my mind.
I’m a damn good liar by trade, but I’m not that good.
“Gods,” I groaned, becoming increasingly worked up by the memory of the way he looked at me today. The way he kept looking at me, all afternoon. It was like he knew, somehow, that I’d needed a reminder that I wasn’t alone in wanting what I couldnt have.
I could deal with Kieran fucking other women, other men—but I wasn’t sure I could deal with the notion that one day, he might find whatever he was looking for. It was callous and cruel of me to covet his desire like that, though. It was greedy and selfish and wrong to hope that my closest friend would spend the rest of his life alone.
But here, in the confines of my apartment, I could be cruel. Here, I could be vicious.
Behind these wards, as I fucked myself to the thought of him, I could admit—if only to myself—that every night, in the afterglow of my own release, I sent a silent, foolish prayer to the Fates, the Source, whatever powers that be.
If I can’t have him… Let him remain wild, untamed. Let him sample, but never settle. Please. I couldn’t bear it.
That probably made me a terrible person. An even worse friend to the man who had given me so much, who had made my time in Sophrosyne perfect, beyond my wildest dreams. But I had never claimed to be a wholly good person. Yes, I was kind, I was compassionate…
But I had always known there was a dark and ravening thing that prowled beneath my skin.
And that darkness played so very nicely with Kieran and his Shadows.
Those godsdamned Shadows.
Eager for the distraction, I let go of that moment of self-flagellation, shuddering with distaste as I realized that the bath water had grown tepid. I had lost track of time, and though I could easily reheat the water using basic Fire arcana, I instead took this as a sign that my bathing ritual had concluded.
I wanted to carry out the rest of my efforts in bed, regardless.
Once I was warm and dry again, I slid my bare body in between the worn, soft sheets and let loose a contented sigh. The bath had worked wonders for my stiff muscles, as had the stretches I’d done by Kieran’s command. My tongue glossed over my lips, a hint of a smile curving up one side of my mouth.
Are you asking me to spread my legs for you?
Asking? No, I’m not asking.
Fucking Hel.
As I sank into the plush comfort of my mattress, my mind began to wander again, and I let my fingers follow suit.
“Get on your knees.”
He had never spoken those words before, not to me—and yet I could hear them, clear as day in my mind. It would fall from his lips with low and rumbling authority, leaving little room for argument.
“Good girl.”
And I’d never seen Kieran’s cock, but I could visualize it so very well—the sight of him standing over me, his presence towering as I knelt before him, eyes wide and lips parted. I thought about the way he might suck in a breath hearing me beg for permission to touch him. I thought about the way he might groan and growl and curse beneath his breath once he gave me what I wanted, what I craved more often than was probably healthy. Fucking Fates, I wanted to choke on that man’s cock.
I wanted to wreck him the way that he would most assuredly wreck me.
The way I wished he would.
The sight of Kieran sparring next to me earlier had me soaking through my panties as I practiced every kick. It had been borderline embarrassing, and whenever his back was turned, I’d glance down just to make sure there was no visible damp spot between my legs. Thankfully, the soft leather leggings had been thick enough to conceal my arousal, and I didn’t have to expose that every inch of my instructor’s hard, flexing muscle had me twitching… Craving.
But it wasn’t just his body that kept me in a chokehold, however flawless that body was. It was the violence—his capacity for utter destruction.
However depraved these damningly dark thoughts made me, it was the sharp sound of every strike Kieran landed this afternoon that pulled me under. It was the way the edges of his blades gleamed in the light just before he coated them in wisps of smoke and Shadow. I would never admit it, not to anyone, but it was the evidence of how godsdamned deadly Kieran was—that was what left me dripping all afternoon.
His power called to me. My aether sang back, surging through my veins, even now. Little starbursts of Light pulsed beneath my sheets, the tips of my fingers flickering for a moment as I arched my back, hips bucking into my fingers, needing more. More friction, more pressure, more thoughts of him to tease and torment me into oblivion.
I thought about his hands, wrapping themselves around my throat. I thought about the inherent supplication in allowing someone like Kieran to steal my breath, to control me to such an extent that the very air in my lungs followed his command. I thought about every limit, every edge that Kieran might lead me to if I let him.
For a moment, I paused ministrations against my clit just to run my hands up and down my body, imagining larger, rougher fingertips in their stead. I paused in every place that I’d imagined Kieran might, groping my own tits, sliding my palms appreciatively over my thighs, briefly allowing my forefinger to mimic the way Kieran’s had stroked the back of my leg earlier today.
Lost in my own imagination, I writhed and tangled myself up in the sheets, beginning to thirst for things I couldn’t emulate myself—like the way it might feel if Kieran pulled my hair, the way it might burn and sting if he slapped my ass, or if he took hold of my flesh so hard that his nails bit into my skin. Biting… Oh,that was a dangerous place to go if I wanted to draw this pleasure out slowly, and yet my mind took off in a sprint before I could contain it.
Those stupid fucking godling teeth of his, so unusually and absurdly sharp. The way those tipped canines gleamed and glistened, peeking out behind his lips whenever he spoke. It was just some trait that ran in his family, he’d explained to me once. Some odd, hereditary thing. But maybe my sick little urge to worship Kieran in more ways than one stemmed, at least partially, from the fact that his silver tongue danced behind the wicked, feral smile of the gods themselves.
I thrust my fingers deep between my legs now, curling and pressing against that most sensitive part of my core. My right hand was absolutely coated in the slickness that wept from my cunt, the same way it did for him every other night. Tonight, though, for whatever reason—he felt a little closer. I could practically feel his heated breath against my neck, could practically hear it hitch as I whined, grinding against my own hand.
And what I wouldn’t fucking give for that hand to be replaced by what I knew was a perfect cock, what I wouldn’t do just to have him shove me up against a wall, my mattress, any manner of surface so that he could fill me, fuck me better than I could ever possibly fuck myself. He would ruin me, that much I knew, and I would beg him to keep going. I would weep and grovel and plead for him to leave me in tatters by the end of the night, to cover my skin in pretty little bruises and bitemarks, to coat me in evidence of what he was capable of.
When I finally let myself imagine what it might feel like for those pretty white jaws to bite down against my throat, how blissful the ache of those fangs might feel if Kieran felt so inclined to grace my neck with such violent admiration, I was all too thankful that the wards of this apartment included sound-proofing spellwork.
Because it was Kieran’s name that I screamed into the night as I detonated, gasping and trembling against my own fingertips when the tension snapped, waves of heat and pleasure overtaking my senses.
And it was Kieran’s name that I whispered against my pillow once my body, now entirely spent, finally succumbed to the sweet allure of my darkening dreams.