Chapter 49
CROSS
FELíNE WOKE TO THE SOFT sounds of dreamless breathing.
A lone lantern flickered gently from its perch on the wall, casting lambent shadows to dance with amber light in the basement room.
The steady rise and fall of a well-formed chest lifted Felíne’s left hand with each inhale.
Her face was nuzzled against a shoulder, scratchy stubble tickling the tip of her nose.
One muscled arm held her close, draping haphazardly over her waist. The other was attached to a hand spread possessively over her thigh—a thigh which currently rested atop a man’s hips.
The previous night came rushing back so swiftly that Felíne might have toppled out of the chaise lounge had she not been held by Kal’s unconscious form.
You’re finding pleasure tonight. And I plan to witness the glory of it.
Pleasure, she’d found. Beyond anything Felíne had known a person could feel. And witness, he had.
Felíne glanced down to where Kal’s right hand held her bent leg over his. The skin of his wrist was reddened, dried blood crusted in several spots. A thin abrasion parted the ring of flesh.
Memories resurfaced of Kal kneeling with his hands tied behind his back, his big body bowed forward as he kissed her neck, her chest, her lips.
He’d worshipped her with his mouth while Felíne explored the contours of her own body for the first time.
Kal had guided her. He’d whispered hot, licentious instructions in her ear, watching captivated as she followed them.
Her lessons with Imogen had been thorough. But Felíne had listened to her elder’s lectures with a sort of horrified detachment, too preoccupied by her own insecurities to delve deeper into the subject matter during quiet moments of solitude.
Last night? Kal’s unwavering confidence had bled into her, igniting a hungry, daring flame.
He’d placed all the leverage into her hands by restricting his own.
The way he’d looked at her made her feel beautiful.
The thrall that came over him as she obeyed his direction gave her a captivating sense of power.
How exhilarating that this fearsome man would bend to her desires.
That her pleasure could become his undoing.
In the end, though, Felíne had been the one undone.
Utterly, totally, irreparably undone.
Her fingers had found a rhythm, her body understanding what it craved.
Felíne’s breasts had mashed against Kal’s chest, their breath had mingled, hers coming in quick, stuttering gasps.
She’d begun to shake. More, he’d demanded.
Farther, he’d pushed. Their skin became beaded with sweat.
Felíne had thrown her free hand around his neck, worried she would fracture at the pressure rolling through her. Kal had groaned.
“That’s it, Kitty girl,” his voice had rumbled. “There you are.”
And then she’d splintered.
Kal’s mouth had swallowed her cry as she sagged against him, every nerve in her body pulsing with pleasure-filled bursts.
His shoulders, biceps, and forearms bulged as they strained against the silverskin binding his arms behind his back.
They both stilled, kneeling awkwardly. Felíne’s body half draped over his, their skin slick, chests heaving.
“Kitty,” Kal murmured atop her head. “Please unbind me.”
Working free the silverskin cord was a hazy blur. She only remembered Kal’s arms finally gathering her close as her lids battled against blissful fatigue.
“Am I alive?” she’d mumbled.
“Oh, Felíne,” Kal had said, kissing her hair. “You’ve only just begun to live.”
She remembered wanting to touch him, to reciprocate even a fraction of the euphoria he’d just escorted her through. But Kal had only pressed his lips to her crown once more before gathering her close and lulling her into insentience.
Felíne eased away from Kal’s sleeping body and beheld him.
His face was relaxed, turned partially away from her.
The lines that grooved his waking brow were smooth in repose.
She lifted her hand and traced her finger over the curving line of his profile.
Down the center of his forehead, dipping deeply between his brows to the ridge of his nose, over the pillows of his perfect lips, and the coarse black hair on his chin.
The gods spared no talent when crafting this man.
Even if Felíne could never claim him, she’d keep these small moments locked within the swell of her spirit for the rest of her days.
Slowly, Kal’s eyes fluttered open. He inhaled deeply and turned to look at her. Two black pools took her measure, golden treasures rising to the surface.
Felíne smiled softly. “Good morning.”
Kal propped himself on an elbow. “Is it morning?”
She sat, clutching a blanket to her. “I can only assume.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Felíne did a mental assessment and tried to articulate this newfound sense of self. “I feel…reborn.”
Kal hummed his understanding and planted a chaste kiss to her lips with a small self-satisfied smile.
“We need to tend to those wrists,” she said, nodding at the twin injuries. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut yourself to the bone.”
Kal gave an unbothered shrug and rolled his neck. “Even if I had, it would have been worth it. Watching you unravel like that?” His gaze fixed on her, and Felíne’s insides clenched. “Seeing you come apart for the first time? I’d spill my blood again for the honor of it.”
Felíne’s face flushed with new heat. “You’re awfully lyrical of late, Kalevar Kaine.”
He quirked another smile and lowered one more kiss onto her forehead before rising from their nest of pillows and blankets. “Perhaps I’ve been reborn as well.”
“Where are you going?”
He stopped at the stairwell to glance over his shoulder. “First, to pee. But also, there’s the unfortunate matter of two dead bodies in the forest,” he said as though referencing two fallen trees instead of people. “I’d like to collect them before the wilderness beasts do.”
Felíne swallowed. Gods. She was ashamed to admit that their evening together had effectively erased her concern over the two brothers Kal killed during yesterday’s storm. The two brothers who’d attempted to incapacitate Kal and haul her off to the Conclave. “What do we do now?”
A dangerous edge stole into Kal’s features, his hard body going taut with leashed violence. “We go see Saul,” he said. “And then Lucien Cross and I are going to have a conversation.”
Felíne thought Kal’s version of a conversation likely meant additional bloodshed. She pushed herself up from the chaise. “Go and get the bodies,” she said. “I’ll be washed and dressed by the time you get back.”
Kal’s attention trailed the length of her as she stood. “Maybe I should stay.” His gaze heated as though he could see straight through the thick fabric Felíne held to her. “You might need my help.”
She brushed past him, stepping onto the stairs. “I don’t think so,” she said, a teasing smile tugging her lips. “It would be a shame to damage your wrists further.”
“Next time it’ll be my hands at work and yours bound with silverskin.”
Felíne pressed her lips together to hide the betraying thrill that shivered down her spine. She stepped up another stair. “Didn’t you mention a full bladder, Kal?” Her eyes flicked down suggestively. “I wouldn’t want you to wet yourself on my account.”
Kal lunged for her, and she squealed, scrambling out of reach.
Felíne raced up the stairs, her playful pursuer hot on her heels.
Only with the washroom door firmly bolted behind her did Felíne stop to consider the danger of Kal’s silver tongue and the tentative, slipping hold that remained on her boundaries.
Felíne and Kal made their way into Meress at a cautious pace.
Kal looked more tense than she’d ever seen him.
He had a dozen different blades concealed on his person, a crossbow slung at his hip, and the two twin swords he’d used to kill Drexan sheathed across his back.
He prowled beside Sig’s shoulder as they wove between buildings, having opted to lead the horse on foot.
Felíne swayed slightly in the saddle with each gentle plod of the roan’s hooves.
Kal wasn’t the only one armed. Felíne had Daybreak fastened in her waist sheath, two daggers tucked into her boots, and a handful of short throwing knives up either sleeve.
When she’d complained to Kal that she was as likely to hit him as any perceived attacker, he’d grunted and replied that he would take his chances.
Adder shadowed their progress through town somewhere out of sight.
He’d met them at the cabin earlier that morning and helped wrap the bodies of the Carrow brothers that Kal retrieved from the woods.
Miraculously, they’d been untouched by scavengers.
Felíne tried to ignore the thud of the corpses being dragged in the cart behind her whenever it rolled over a dip in the path.
Even with the bodies concealed by a heavy canvas tarp, she tensed at each person they passed. No one stopped them.
Meress’s beauty was undiminished, the forest town having been blanketed with rain from last night’s storm.
Thirsty flowers had opened their vibrant blooms along the trail, their vines creeping up the sides of homes and winding over the trunks of broad trees.
Low-lying mists obscured their route, lending an eerie quality to the stillness of the morning.
Unease prickled Felíne’s scalp despite the visual splendor of their surroundings.
Kal pulled them to a halt before a long log cabin with a wide, unadorned entryway. They’d arrived at the Conclave’s premises.
“Do they know we’re coming?” Felíne asked as Kal helped her dismount.
“Lucien does,” Kal replied. Of course, he would. Especially since his hired assailants didn’t return with their intended captives last night. “How much he’s told the rest of the Conclave remains to be seen.”