Chapter 24
TERRAN
How I could feel trapped in a bedchamber with so many windows it felt as if I was perched outside, on the top of this damn mountain, I wasn’t sure.
The door was unlocked. Kael insisted I could come and go as I pleased.
Yet every time I’d peered out, the guard was still at the end of the hall.
When I asked my brother, who’d come to fetch me for a meal I had no wish to eat, he said it was “standard practice” for “guests such as you.”
For enemies of Aetheria.
I listened as the meal Kael sent, without asking, was cleared away behind me. I’d eaten, not because I was hungry, but because I needed sustenance and wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. But every bite had tasted bitter, Kael’s words from our argument still fresh.
“You didn’t trust me.”
“Do you intend to push everyone away, including me?”
“Your stubbornness aids no one, including Gyoria.”
Kael’s accusations stung, not because they were leveled relentlessly against me or because they were untrue, but because they came from the only person who had stood beside me when our father had begun to turn his back on the ideals he’d taught us. If Kael could doubt me…
Would I truly rather burn every bridge than bend, as he’d accused?
And if every bridge was ash, what harm was there in letting one person cross the wreckage? Even if she was the last woman I should trust. Even if Lyra had already proven she could wound me in ways no enemy blade ever had.
Tomorrow, we prepared for battle. Even now, as I sat in this damned chamber, Aetheria was arming itself against Gyorian forces that were more than likely to have followed me here.
Would Father be with them?
How could our clan survive this?
“Lady Lyra,” the attendant exclaimed.
Turning, I watched as she floated into the chamber, smiling at the young woman as she wheeled away the cart. “Leave the wine,” Lyra said. “And bring another glass, if you would.”
“I don’t want it.”
If my tone was gruff, there was a good reason for it. I’d come for answers, and Kael gave me none. I’d stopped short of asking him why Lyra had truly been sent to retrieve the Stone, already knowing the answer, and waited for Kael to admit it on his own.
He hadn’t.
Talk of battle, of Gyoria lost, of The Unbalance… everything except the real reason I was here. The real reason was that the guard was watching my movements. I had no doubt if I asked, Kael would admit it. My brother had betrayed me, though Kael saw it differently, but he’d never lied to me.
And he never would.
Lyra, on the other hand…
“You’re angry.”
She moved to the narrow table that stood between two of the windows which framed the darkening sky, a sheer drop visible from every angle.
Lifting the decanter the attendant left behind, she filled the goblet with my untouched wine.
A moment later, that same attendant returned, skirted the massive bed, its frame carved of dark Aetherian oak, its headboard worked with a relief of mountains and storm clouds.
She handed Lyra the second goblet and left the chamber as I scanned it, watching firelight from the hearth catch glints of silver on the coverlet.
Each stitch was precise, too fine for a warrior’s chamber.
It was a bed meant for display as much as rest, a reminder of power and wealth, not comfort. Just as the hearth was less for warmth, Aetheria’s climate cooler than the south but never uncomfortably so, as it was for ambience.
Lyra belonged here, in the chamber.
I did not.
“Take it,” she said, handing me the second goblet. “It will remove the edge that you’ve had since we stepped foot on Aetherian land.”
I didn’t disagree and took it begrudgingly as Lyra joined me at the window.
“You smell like… something.”
I couldn’t place the scent. It was fresh, and clean. Yet subtly enticing.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“No.”
If I wanted to compliment her, I’d mention Lyra’s simple, but elegant, white gown.
Its flowing sleeves moving like the air every time she lifted her arm to take a sip.
Unlike Thalassari, whose clothing was often spun from fabric so sheer, it left little to the imagination, the Aetherians favored a similar fluid drape in thicker, more substantial weaves…
warm enough to cut the mountain chill, yet light enough to move as if carried by the wind.
I never cared for their style. Until now. Every curve of Lyra’s was highlighted as she moved. The cut showed just enough of the curve of her breasts to leave a man wanting more, but not so much he was given an ample view.
Everything about her was elegant.
And deceptive.
“Talk to me, Terran. Tell me why you are so angry.”
I was jolted from my perusal by her words. Different than the ones my mother often spoke to my father, but similar too.
I’d always resented that he needed to be coaxed into smiling, or relaxing, by her. Always wondered why he didn’t have the skills to do so on his own.
You are becoming our father.
How many times had Kael accused me of as much?
As many as I’d denied it.
“Because my brother is right.”
That was one thing I could do that my father hadn’t. Tell the truth.
“About?”
I downed the wine and headed back for more. Filling my goblet, I rejoined Lyra as she patiently waited for me to finish.
“All of it,” I said, unable to put the truth into words.
We stood in silence for some time as I replayed the argument, the time since Mev had come through the Gate, again and again in my mind. I wanted to forget it all, but couldn’t. A battle was coming, and I had to choose a side.
Surprised that Lyra asked no more questions, I finally turned to her.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
She simply looked at me.
I took her goblet and placed it, along with my own, on the table, asking her again, “Why did you come?”
Lyra forgot the game.
Her chin raised defiantly.
“In here,” I said, waving toward my bedchamber, “I am in charge. Answer the question, Lyra.”
A switch had been flicked.
Ahh, she hadn’t forgotten the game. Lyra was playing it. Hard.
I could play harder.
I spun her to me so that we were nearly touching. I waited. Her eyes, ever so slightly more open than before, were all the answers I needed.
“I will ask just once more. Tell me why you’re here.”
“And if I do not?”
No more words.
I grabbed the hem of her gown, pulling it up to her waist. There was no barrier under the gown, though I’d have torn it off if there were.
I didn’t pause, or hesitate. With the only permission I needed—Lyra not raising a hand to stop me—I held her gown up with one hand and cupped her with the other.
Slipping a finger inside to confirm my suspicions, and then another, discovering her as wet as I assumed, I watched her face as I worked Lyra.
Hard.
Not thrusting, but easing in and out. Circling her with my thumb. Ignoring my own body’s response to being inside her, even if it were just my fingers.
For now.
I wanted to kiss her. But I wanted to watch Lyra’s expression more. Her lips parted, tempting me beyond measure.
“You will tell me why you came to this chamber tonight, Lyra,” I said, not softening the edge of my voice.
She held firm, pressing against my fingers… Her breath came more quickly. I could help Lyra find her release, just a small adjustment of my thumb…
“Terran,” she breathed, nearly tearing me apart. I wanted to be inside her. Claim her. But I also knew what Lyra needed, and it was to let herself completely lose control.
Which meant, I needed to take it for her.
“Tell me.”
With that final command, my fingers stilled, just before her walls began to clench.
“No,” she said, finally realizing my intention. “Terran, please.”
My hand remained still. “I do love hearing you beg for me to continue. As I said you would,” I reminded her.
Lyra’s eyes flashed. She’d evidently forgotten that. I hadn’t. Not even for a moment.
“But that wasn’t my request.”
“Request?” She panted, a sweet sound if I’d ever heard one. “Command, you mean.”
I moved, just slightly. Not enough, but just as a reminder. She pressed against my hand, urging me on without words.
“Command,” I confirmed. “And I won’t ask again.”
She was going to come just as we were. I could feel it. Sense it. And so I pulled my fingers from her completely.
“No!”
Smiling, I left my hand where it was. But said nothing.
“I came here… for this,” she said finally.
I thrust my fingers into her, relentless in my pursuit of her release.
“Voren vel’kora,” I whispered, before claiming her lips, mimicking the movement of my fingers with my tongue and knowing it would not be long.
When it came, Lyra’s release was as powerful as her magic. She cried out as the involuntary pulses around my dripping-wet fingers verified what I knew already.
Aetherians prided themselves on control of themselves. With me, she’d been able to let go in spectacular fashion.
But I wanted more.
Pulling my hand from her and dropping Lyra’s gown, I waited for her to refocus on me.
“Did you come to my chamber,” I said, running a single finger down her cheek, “to find release by my hands? Or did you come here to be thoroughly, and completely, claimed? If the latter, I’ve a mind to tear that gown from your body, toss you on my bed, and bury myself so deep inside you that neither of us will leave this chamber the same as before you entered it. ”
Lyra’s chest rose and fell, her cheeks still flush and her breathing not quite back to normal.
“I came for all of you,” she said more readily than I’d have expected.
My thumb brushed her lower lip.
“Then that’s exactly what you shall get.”