Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
ARKEN
The brisk walk from the alleyway back to my apartment took all of ten minutes, but it felt like hours as I squirmed with anticipation.
I really hadn’t been trying to bait him…
I bit my lip as I stole another glance at the muscles feathering in Kieran’s jaw as he continued forward with clear purpose, keeping my wrist within his tightened grip.
Okay, maybe I had been trying to bait him a little.
I could admit to myself that it hadn’t been entirely fair, flirting with the kind-eyed florist as he’d given me his spiel.
Seth had only been a good-natured salesman, and I was certain he pulled that same routine on most, if not all, the women who stopped by his stall.
It hadn’t been even remotely serious, but I did know what I was doing when I had referred to Kieran as my friend.
The intensity of Kieran’s gaze as he stared forward, still tugging me toward my studio with haste, left me feeling a little bit guilty. In retrospect, it felt like manipulation…Like I’d been trying to force his hand into some manner of an admission.
It wasn’t like that, though.
It was more so that his possessive streak had been showing up more and more lately, and I kinda got off on it. When I saw the opportunity to fan those flames just a little, I took it without thinking.
Eventually, I knew we would have to figure out what this meant—this blossoming new growth between us, this entanglement of vices and vines wrapping around us both.
But that didn’t need to happen today. I was in no rush.
Kieran certainly seemed to be, though.
When we’d finally reached the partially private alcove in front of my studio, largely shrouded by overgrown bushes of pink and purple bougainvilleas, the captain had lost his patience.
I found myself shoved up against my front door, wrists bound by Shadows above my head as Kieran’s hands ran all over my body, groping at my waist, my tits, and between my thighs with vicious hunger.
“Kieran, we are still in public,” I groaned, his knee yet again shoved between my legs, a powerful thigh pressed hard enough against my center that any attempts to wriggle out of his grasp sent shooting sparks of pleasure through my body.
“I don’t give a damn right now, Asher,” he growled, dipping his head forward and running his crooked nose against the column of my neck, breathing deep. “I will fuck you against this door right here and now and let the whole neighborhood hear you scream my name. Don’t think that I wouldn’t.”
“I am fairly certain that indecent exposure is against the law, Captain,” I replied breathlessly.
Something in his gaze seemed to darken at the word. Or maybe it was just the fact that the pupil in his unmarred eye had blown out, leaving only the slightest slivers of ice.
“Is it now?” he crooned, pulling his lips away as I tried leaning forward to capture them with a kiss.
A desperate sort of whimper escaped my mouth at the denial, and then his mouth was on mine again—eager, hungry.
Fucking Fates, I was far too addicted to this.
Utterly trapped by every slow and calculated stroke of his velvet tongue, tangling with mine and tasting of cloves, cinnamon, citrus, and tea.
We needed to get inside, because I needed him to get inside me. As Kieran’s Shadows released my wrists, his sole focus on kissing me into oblivion, I slipped a hand behind my back, hoping to open the door and let us tumble inside—but the handle wouldn’t budge.
Ah, shit.
I had nearly forgotten.
My apartment had been protected, warded by Amaretta, and then later refreshed by an old friend of hers—Graham Kepler. The alchemist had taken care to explain to me how they worked, pricking my thumb with a sanitized needle in order to attune the wards to my blood.
“Don’t you fret, this isn’t considered blood magick,” the old man had chirped encouragingly. “And Ms. Sinclair had already sent over a sample—this will just ensure her wards hold strong for years to come. Quite impressive, really, that Amaretta. I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”
Amma had explained that it was challenging to craft wards within an already heavily warded city-state, but it had to be done.
“The wards prevent entry for anyone but you, Arken. And myself, naturally, though we both know my traveling days are behind me. Not even the city guard will be able to break that spellwork—I have specifically ensured they cannot enter. You can allow your friends in with a temporary incantation if you must, but to give anyone free access will require…”
“Fuck this,” I murmured against Kieran’s mouth, fisting my fingers into raven-black hair and nipping hard at his lower lip.
He growled in approval, hips grinding against mine, pressing me up against the door even harder now.
In the split second we broke apart to breathe, I slid a fingertip across his swollen lips, capturing just the smallest droplet of his blood.
“Aeanthos,” I whispered between breaths, twisting my wrist behind my back and performing the somatic gesture in tandem.
My fingers buzzed and tingled with powerful arcane energy as I made it so that Kieran could enter freely from now on.
I didn’t want to have to cast a temporary allowance spell every time I wanted to take this man back to my bed—it was simply impractical.
I knew Amma had gone out of her way to specifically bespell this space against the Elder Guard, and I knew why, but…
Kieran was different. He was an exception. My one and only exception.
I trusted this man with my life, if not my secrets.
As I felt the wards begin to coalesce and rebind themselves, attuning to the sanguine offering, I breathed the words to seal them.
Fin, praestrictum, klausarcanus.
“Well then,” Kieran murmured, finally pulling himself back and shoving his wandering hands back into his pockets, smirking with self-satisfaction. “Somebody’s feeling…impatient.”
Ah, Hel. Of course he recognized the incantation. I blushed, realizing that now we both knew I had just handed him the arcane equivalent of a house key. He looked a little too pleased, his wolfish grin only widening as I glared back at him and the weight of his presumptuous silence.
“Oh, shut up and fuck me already, Vistarii,” I hissed.
“I told you, Arken. I’ll fuck you right here and now.”
“Now I think you’re just trying to get me locked up in a jail cell for your own amusement again,” I scoffed. “This is clearly an abuse of power—you’re not the one who would get arrested.”
“I’d be the one doing the arresting, yes,” he agreed.
“And there are a great many things I’d like to do to you for my own amusement, Little Conduit.
Though I will admit, most of them do involve some semblance of privacy.
So are you going to let us inside? Or are we going to explore your supposed lack of interest in exhibitionism this afternoon? ”
He took a step forward as he spoke, the tips of his fingers teasing their way between my thighs, taking advantage of the length—or lack thereof—of my sundress, coasting across my panties with the slightest of brushes.
It was just enough to make me shiver as my clit pulsed, begging for his steadfast attention.
“I hate you,” I breathed.
Kieran only chuckled and cocked a brow before slipping past me, opening the door so we might finally make our way inside.
“Oh yeah? Prove it.”
The cocky bastard really had the nerve to challenge me like that with his back turned, striding into my living room with casual confidence, like he already owned the damn place.
So really, I could not be blamed for my behavior.
Acting upon pent-up frustration and immature impulse, I launched myself at Kieran’s back, attempting to jump-tackle him to the ground.
Emphasis on attempt, because it had been hubris to think I had any hopes of overpowering this mountain of a man.
He hardly even staggered as I wrapped my thighs around his torso, my arms around his neck.
Curse this man and his alarming amount of strength and balance.
“Hello there, Little Conduit,” he laughed, all of the acerbic tension between us seeming to melt away. “Is this how you prove you hate me?”
“Yes,” I replied primly, unable to formulate a proper argument.
It was that low rasp and rolling thunder beneath his breath…It did my head in, every godsdamned time, and it was even worse now that I could feel it with my chest pressed up against his back.
“You know, I’m not thoroughly convinced,” Kieran purred, sliding his hands backward to grip at my thighs, one of them traveling upwards to cup my ass cheek and squeeze with vicious affection.
I eyed the spot between his neck and his shoulders, that flexing corner of sinew where the tendrils of his tattoos crept across golden skin. Again, on impulse, I leaned forward and bit down.
His grip on my ass and thigh tightened.
“That,” Kieran choked out, “is not having the effect you’re intending, sweetheart.”
I took that as a challenge to bite down even harder. What did he know about my intentions?
“Fuuucking Hel,” he swore, though the sound was a smidge too guttural, too appreciative for my liking. I was trying to wound the man right now, or at the very least, irritate the shit out of him. I wasn’t trying to turn him on.
Okay, fine. That was another lie.
Turning Kieran Vistarii on had quickly become my new favorite hobby.
And I was so godsdamn good at it.