Chapter 27 Goodbye
GOODBYE
ELYRIA
Like walking on the wind, Elyria shadowstepped to Cedric’s room.
Well, she’d fully intended on stepping outside his quarters, but apparently there was a bit of finesse required when moving through the shadows with any sort of accuracy.
And so, Elyria found herself tucked into a corner of Cedric Thorne’s bedchamber, peering out of the darkness.
She thought he might have been sleeping.
He wasn’t.
Elyria swallowed hard as she watched the knight emerge from the bathing chamber with nothing but a towel slung around his hips.
Lit only by the moonlight filtering in through the large, mullioned window on one side, there was still water beading down the hard planes of his chest, glistening like liquid silver as he moved through the room.
Elyria’s focused gaze followed a droplet as it wound down his torso, skittering across the cut muscles of his abdomen, following the groove of the V that led into the waistband of the towel.
Cedric walked over to a large wooden wardrobe on the far side of the room. Rubbing at a spot on his chest, right over his heart, he fished a pair of linen pants from a drawer before slamming it shut.
She should have stepped right back out of the room then.
She should have done it instantly, of course, but she definitely should do it now.
Before he noticed her, before he realized just how blatantly his privacy was being invaded.
But when it came time to step back into the shadows, something had her freezing in place.
Elyria’s eyes widened as they locked onto two crescent-shaped marks just above Cedric’s collarbone.
Something primal, vicious, coiled deep in Elyria’s core.
She had done that to him.
That was her mark.
Hers.
Hand twitching at her side, the overwhelming, reckless urge to go to him, to touch him, flooded through her so fast it made her dizzy.
Cedric turned his back to her, unlooping the towel from around his waist and revealing the firm curve of a backside that made Elyria’s mouth go dry.
Stars above, did he have to be quite so fine a specimen?
An immediate and overwhelming sense of primal satisfaction overtook her, propelling her body forward before she could stop herself.
“You may want to keep that on,” she said, stepping into the light.
“Four fucking hells!” Cedric whirled, both hands clutching the precariously positioned towel in place. “Noctis light my funeral pyre, you scared me to fucking death.”
She grinned and gave him a sheepish shrug. “Wasn’t my intention. Turns out this shadowstepping business is a bit tricky. Who knew?”
His token swung against his chest as he took an instinctive step back toward the wardrobe. “You seem a quick enough study.” Refastening the towel around his waist, he arched a brow. “So, do you want to tell me what you are doing here?”
Elyria had to physically restrain herself from flinching at his tone.
He hadn’t spoken to her with that sharp an edge since before the Crucible.
And though she could hear the tinge of hurt woven through his words, Elyria hoped the cool moonlight successfully hid the shame she could feel burning in her cheeks.
She bit her lip. “I’d say that I came to apologize, but that would be a lie.”
Cedric gave her a cool look. “Well, I suppose you’re making progress on the ‘liar’ front, at least.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair and giving it a shake, tiny droplets of water spraying the dresser behind him.
“You have nothing to apologize for though. If anything, I’m the one who should—”
“No.” She took a few steps closer. “You were right to stop me. Stop us. I never should have let it get that far in the first place.”
“You didn’t ‘let’ anything happen. We are two grown people, doing things that grown people do.” He blew out a short breath. “Can I ask a favor?”
Elyria blinked. She hadn’t expected him to say that. “Of course,” she said, somewhat hesitantly.
“If you’ve come here to tell me what a huge mistake we made this morning, if you want to tell me how you wish you could take it all back, just . . . don’t. Don’t say you regret it. Just let me pretend for a little while longer.”
His gaze dropped to the floor, pulling Elyria’s heart straight down with it.
Her voice was quiet when she said, “I don’t regret it.”
Cedric didn’t look up.
She took another step toward him. “I said, I don’t regret it.”
He gripped the edge of the dresser behind him, his knuckles white.
“Cedric.”
His head snapped up, gold-brown eyes finding hers in an instant.
“I probably should. Regret it, I mean. If being here for the past two weeks has taught me anything, it’s that I should feel very different than I do about a great number of things.
Including you.” She sighed. “But no matter how much my smarter self tries to remind the rest of me that there are far bigger things to worry about, no matter how much I try to distract myself with the mission ahead, I cannot seem to think of anything other than you. It is absolutely infuriating the way you have taken over my thoughts.”
“Yes, it is rather inconvenient, isn’t it?” he mused, and Elyria tried to ignore the way the scar on his upper lip twitched.
“If ever I needed to be able to focus on the mission at hand, it’s now. And I fear I won’t be able to do so with this”—she gestured between the two of them—“lingering unfinished.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You leave tomorrow too.”
Elyria nodded, her throat tight. She had wondered if he’d been informed of that fact. Thought that if he had, maybe he’d have been looking for her. Maybe he’d have wanted to ensure they parted on better terms too.
Her magic roiled in her veins, restless, as if irritated by her hypocrisy.
“You leave tomorrow,” Cedric repeated, “and you didn’t want my final memory of you to be you running away again.”
Elyria’s cheeks heated once more. “I didn’t want that to be the end of it because I—” She threw her hands in the air, shadows leaking from her fingers, trailing up her wrists. “Look, you have your mission, and I have mine. Fully fucking aware that tomorrow we go our separate ways.”
His mouth twisted, like the words, regardless of how true they were, physically pained him to hear.
“But I just—I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard. What was she trying to say, exactly? It wasn’t nothing, said the voice inside her head. It meant something. Means more than you could possibly know.
But she couldn’t say any of that. Couldn’t get into it now. Not when they had so little time left.
Elyria cleared her throat, straightened her spine. “I came to say that what happened this morning doesn’t have to be anything more than what it was. Which was nothing, really.” She gave a casual wave of her hand and hoped Cedric couldn’t see the way it shook.
Cedric loosed a ragged exhale. Released his grip on the dresser. Took one slow, careful step toward her. “It wasn’t nothing to me.”
Elyria’s breath hitched. The words hit the air between them and hung there, suspended, shivering.
They pressed against her chest, trying to crawl between her ribs.
She felt her shadows stretching over her skin, like they wanted to reach for him.
“But it doesn’t have to be anything more,” she said.
“We have a score to settle, remember? I just want to ensure our slate is even before I go.” She forced her mouth into a devilish grin, tipping it to one side.
“It’ll be better for you too, not to be stuck thinking about all this unresolved business on your way to Elderglade. Let me help you clear your head.”
Cedric’s brows knitted together, frustration flashing across his face. “That’s truly all you want? That’s what this is to you?”
Elyria bit her lip, holding back the truths she was sure would fall out of her mouth if she dared to speak. Instead, she closed the distance between them, her gaze locked on the mark she’d left on his collarbone.
Cedric tracked her approach, but he did not move. Not that there was anywhere for him to go, had he tried—what with the dresser at his back and Elyria to his front.
She didn’t think he wanted to try. She could see it in the set of his jaw, the flex of his hands at his sides, like he was restraining himself from reaching for her.
So, Elyria reached out instead.
Her fingers danced up his chest, brushing over his collarbone. The pad of her finger traced the curve of the bite mark there, and he hissed a breath through his teeth, the sound of it sending a jolt straight through her center.
Cedric’s pupils were wide, the black circles nearly eclipsing the golden rings in his eyes. “You don’t—” His throat bobbed, the motion drawing Elyria’s gaze down the long column of his throat. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Her smile sharpened. “Oh, I’m fully aware of that too.
” And with that, she freed the shadows she’d been keeping at bay, releasing them from where they curved around her arms to curl around him instead.
She stepped forward, obliterating those final inches between them, pressing her body against his bare torso, his back into the dresser.
Cedric’s hands shot out as if by instinct, grabbing her hips in a bid to steady himself. His skin was hot, heat seeping through the thin fabric of her nightdress. Her shadows flared in response, swirling up his arms in a cooling mist.
He sucked in a long, slow breath, and the heat lessened.
“Elyria . . .” His voice was something like a warning, a plea—frayed, desperate.
She leaned close, her hands trailing a path down his sides. “Let me,” she said, and this time she might’ve been the one begging.
His grip on her hips tightened deliciously, but still, he didn’t move away. Didn’t try to put space between them. If anything, he pulled her closer, something made evident by the hardness she felt suddenly pressing insistently against her thigh.
Elyria pressed back.
Turns out, it wasn’t a particularly thick towel.
Cedric groaned. “If you think this is going to get me to stop thinking about you, I fear you are sorely mistaken, my lady.”
She grinned, then stood on her tiptoes, her lips brushing his earlobe. “Only one way to find out, my lord.”
Cedric shivered, and Elyria felt it echo down the bond between them, a flash of light in her chest that stole the breath from her lungs. Her shadows burst forth, whispering around his ankles, winding up his calves, just firm enough to urge him into motion.
His fingers dug into her skin hard enough to make her gasp as, together, they moved away from the dresser. Cedric stumbled slightly, his heels scraping against the floor as Elyria walked him back, step by step, until his knees hit the edge of his mattress.
He fell onto his bed with a grunt, propping himself up on one elbow, watching Elyria with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape.
With a smirk, she crawled on top of him, sliding over his lap, her legs falling to either side of him, shadows trailing behind her like silken ribbons of pure night.
He made an effort to sit up, tried to run a hand up her thigh, but she caught his wrist, pinning it above his head with a flick of shadow.
“Ah, ah,” she chided, her free hand splayed on his chest, urging him down until his back hit the mattress once more.
Cedric squirmed in protest, but she held firm. His gaze never left hers, even as his breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath her palm.
“Now, hands to yourself, Sir Knight,” she murmured, releasing his wrist. “Don’t make me use these.” She inclined her head at the bedposts to the left and right, where her shadowy ribbons were winding up the wooden posts.
He fisted the sheets on either side of him, and Elyria gave a single roll of her hips, delighting in the friction between them. Even more delightful was the low groan that escaped him, a desperate sound that made Elyria’s core tighten in response.
She leaned forward, breathing in his charred sandalwood scent as she pressed her lips above his collarbone, planting a kiss over the mark there. He hissed a breath, his body going taut, as her tongue flicked out, tasting the salt of his skin, the heat of him.
The tether in Elyria’s chest shimmered as her hand glided down his torso, teasing along the planes of hard muscle, until she reached the place where the V-shaped groove disappeared beneath his towel.
Eyes narrowing with challenge, Elyria slid off Cedric—off the bed entirely—her knees hitting the ground as she deftly untucked the towel from around his waist.
“Elyria, I—”
She let out a hum of appreciation as she unwrapped his impressive—and impressively hard—length. She trailed a lazy hand down his shaft before wrapping her fingers around it, a coiling sensation pulsing behind her navel as he twitched in her hand.
Cedric’s entire body jerked as he propped himself up on both elbows, something like awe in his voice when he breathed her name. “What are you doing?”
“Is that a real question?” She gave him a feline smile. “I was there this morning. I know you know what you’re doing when it comes to . . .” She bowed her head and placed a gentle kiss on his tip, then licked away the bead of moisture that had already formed there.
He tasted like sunlight and power and safety and—
“Four fucking—” His voice broke, head tilting back.
Mine, said that voice in her head, and her shadows writhed in agreement.
Elyria didn’t think now was the time to argue with herself.
“I rather like the sight of you like this,” she said, and damn it all if the way his fists clutched the bedsheets didn’t stoke something feral in her. Her own grip around him tightened in response, and he released a ragged moan. “Now, remember: no touching, Sir Knight. It’s my turn.”