Chapter 28 Good Boy
GOOD BOY
CEDRIC
Stars above, she was perfect.
Granted, Elyria’s continuous denial of this thing between them might have left something to be desired, but at this moment, Cedric could not possibly have cared less.
Not with her mouth on him, her tongue swirling around his tip, warm and wet and so fucking—
Cedric groaned, heat already building at the base of his spine as he threaded his fingers through her soft periwinkle strands. And then his hand was being whipped away, moved by a force other than his own will, slamming down onto the bedspread.
“Tsk, tsk. I said no touching.”
Cedric looked down at his wrists, at the shadows binding his hands to the bed.
Lightly, he tested their hold—the ribbons of smoke were feather soft against his skin, but their grip was like steel.
His flame sparked deep in his chest, reminding him that if he really wanted to, he could burn through her shadows, could free himself. He’d done it before.
But why would he want to?
“Good boy,” Elyria said, a smirk playing on those perfect lips before they parted and she took his full length into her mouth.
Cedric bit the inside of his cheek—so hard he tasted copper on his tongue—to keep himself from coming entirely undone right then.
Noctis take me straight to the fourth quarter if I come that quickly, he thought with a shudder, though he couldn’t be sure if it was from the thought of that less-than-desirable outcome or just a physical reaction to the warmth of Elyria’s mouth, the expert movements of her tongue.
She had no idea what she did to him.
Or maybe she did. Maybe she relished the torture. It did seem a favorite pastime of hers.
Her gaze flicked up as she withdrew from him, her emerald eyes sparkling with wicked delight. Wicked, and yet . . . there was something soft there too. Vulnerable. Honest.
Elyria placed several quick, deliberate kisses down the length of him before grazing her teeth against him with a careful pressure. The sensation had Cedric nearly bucking off the bed, pulling at his shadowy restraints.
Her smile was downright cruel when she pulled away, sitting back on her ankles to appraise Cedric with a tilt of her head.
“You seem uncomfortable, Sir Knight,” she purred. “Should I stop?” Even as she said the words, she dipped her head again to trail a path with her tongue across his inner thigh, then nipped at the sensitive skin there.
Cedric hardly recognized himself in the feral groan that surged from him. “I’m—fuck—I’m perfectly comfortable.”
Her grin sharpened. “Well, isn’t that a shame? I rather like to see you squirm.”
And four hells, it really seemed she did.
Because as Cedric jerked once more against the bind of her shadows, she released a low hum of satisfaction before rewrapping her fingers around his length and taking him into her mouth once more.
Her cherry-almond scent filled the room, stronger and more intense with each pump of her hand as she built to a steady rhythm that had Cedric seeing stars.
It was as though his magic could feel hers. Like she responded to him in kind.
Maybe it did.
Maybe she did.
Because with every flick of her wrist, light sparked in Cedric’s chest. With every swirl of her tongue, fire licked up his spine. He could feel that tether between them, their bond thrumming stronger, brighter, with every pulse of his desire.
Of hers.
Like the very strings of his soul were tying themselves to her.
She felt it too. He knew she must.
Or at least, he fucking hoped so. Hoped this delusion wasn’t just all in his head, even as she had his cock in her mouth.
If Cedric were a smarter man, he might take her at her word. He would accept that this was just physical, just a “settling of the score,” as she’d have him believe. It would certainly be cleaner, easier, if that were the truth.
But there was so much here beyond her words.
There was the way she looked at him—that jeweled gaze sharp and unyielding always, but with something softer, deeper too. Hidden behind that smug grin, or that indifferent mask she wore around others.
He saw her.
She saw him.
Cedric groaned, bedsheets clenched in his fists, the shadows pinning his wrists their own kind of torture. Perhaps it was better like this. The restraints keeping his hands bound helped him keep his head too. Helped him remember not to let the fire in his veins burn too hot.
Well, they helped for a while, at least.
But then she pulled back to his tip before dragging his full length into her mouth, her tongue tracing the underside of his cock. Cedric’s head slammed back into the mattress, thoughts fractured. He felt his flame consolidate in his chest—blooming, growing, hot and bright as the sun.
It was too much.
It was everything.
Cedric gritted his teeth together in an attempt to keep his magic at bay, to keep it contained, but a whisper of a thought skated through his mind.
Let go.
Just like before, when Elyria was clenched around his fingers and that first “Mine” had echoed in his thoughts, the words came from nowhere and everywhere at once.
As if she felt it all, Elyria’s eyes met Cedric’s, her gaze soft, that vulnerability flitting across her features before she shuttered it away.
“Elle—” Her name was half a plea, half a prayer.
Don’t stop. Let go.
The words were something like a murmur, half-formed, a ripple in his mind. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he might’ve missed them entirely.
Cedric obeyed.
His body bowed off the bed, the magic in his chest flaring unbidden, white-gold flames dancing along his arms, burning through the shadows binding his wrists. His magic wanted her, needed her, cried out for her.
And then the bed sheets were on fire.
Cedric’s eyes widened, but before he could open his mouth to release a sound of alarm, the flames were extinguished. Like an instinctual response, another wave of shadows had surged from Elyria, a cooling blanket that settled over the bed, over Cedric, helping him reel his power in.
Elyria never even broke her rhythm.
Cedric wanted to laugh. And if it hadn’t been for the tightly coiled pressure continuing to build at the base of his spine, he might have.
If she thought he’d be able to simply walk away after this, she was even more deluded than he was.
If she thought he wouldn’t spend every waking moment of the journey to Elderglade replaying this—that he wouldn’t be thinking about it every minute for the rest of his life—she was insane.
“Elle,” he gasped, his fire rising again. “I’m going to—”
He didn’t finish his sentence. She didn’t let him. Didn’t relent. Her hand moved faster, and with one final swirl of her tongue, hitting the ridge on the underside of his head just right, Cedric shattered.
Light burst behind his eyelids as he groaned her name, heat erupting from the center of his chest like a dying star. Elyria’s own magic pulsed in response, fire and wild, shadow and sun, twining together.
It took Cedric a moment to remember how to breathe.
Another to remember how to move.
But when the haze began to clear, Cedric pushed himself back up on one elbow, chest heaving, and reached for her.
Elyria still knelt between his legs, shadowy ribbons curling around her wrists, trailing from her fingers like living tendrils of night.
The satisfied look on her face was something Cedric wished he could engrave in his vision forever.
But even as she smirked at him, dabbing at the corner of her mouth, he also saw the shift.
Saw the way she tried to school her expression, tried to bring her walls back up.
Saw the moment she tried to physically retreat.
No, didn’t just see it.
He felt it.
Felt her instinct to run, to bolt, shimmering down their bond.
“No,” he growled, the word tearing from his throat, and before Elyria could even form a shadow to step into, Cedric had shot upright. His hand snaked out, catching her wrist before she could flee into the dark.
With one pull, he yanked her forward, pulling her onto the bed with him, slipping one arm around her waist and rolling so that she was pinned beneath him for once.
Elyria blinked up at him, green eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. Cedric swallowed the gasp that escaped her, crashing his mouth to hers in a tangle of tongues and teeth, of fire and fury.
His body settled over hers, and her hands came up as if in reflex, gripping his shoulders, her nails grazing his back just enough to send a delicious shiver down his spine.
She moaned as he devoured her, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body arching against his own. Cedric moved with her, his palm smoothing down her torso, over—and then under—the hem of her nightdress, his fingers dancing over the scars on her thighs with reverence.
His hand slipped further, searching for that place where he knew she’d be wet and wanting . . . until a strong leg was suddenly clamped over his arm, locking it in place. Locking him out.
Fuck, why did she have to be so strong?
“Tsk, so quick to want to tip the scales right back to your side,” she said, though the reprimand was somewhat undermined by the smile in her eyes.
He huffed a laugh. “If this is what settling scores entails, can you blame me?”
“This was supposed to be about you,” she tutted, releasing him before pivoting the lower half of her body away, even as her arms remained wrapped around his neck.
Cedric splayed his hand on the mattress beside her head. “Are you truly saying you don’t want me to—”
“I want and don’t want a lot of things,” she said simply, shadows winding aimlessly down her arms, like her magic wasn’t quite sure what to do with itself.
He didn’t know how, but Cedric could feel it—her hesitance, the uncertainty beneath her bravado.
“Tell me one thing you want—right now, right here—and I’ll give it to you,” he said, and he thought maybe he should have been embarrassed by how desperate he sounded.
He wasn’t.
Elyria bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the back of his neck. Several long moments passed before she spoke.
“I just want to stay,” she whispered.
For a heartbeat, Cedric couldn’t breathe. Her words felt like they slammed into his chest and rooted themselves there. Relief flooded his veins, so potent he might have staggered in place, were he standing.
He didn’t understand it, didn’t fully comprehend why it felt like something had been set right, had clicked into place. But it did.
“So stay.” His thumb brushed her cheek, swept over the curve of her jaw. “Stay with me.”
There was another moment of painful hesitation. Her shadows flickered. Eyes of emerald green and gold-ringed brown met. Stared. Held. But, eventually, Elyria nodded.
Cedric might’ve said thank you. Might’ve said a lot of things.
But in the end, none of it mattered. What did matter was the fit of her body as it curled into his—perfect, like that was exactly where it was always meant to be.
And maybe all that really mattered was the way she’d looked at him as he pressed his forehead to hers—with an expression that felt a lot like . . .
He didn’t finish the thought.
Didn’t let himself.
Didn’t want to jinx it.
Because they still had their missions. They would still have to go their separate ways when dawn broke. But of this, Cedric was certain: If that look meant what he thought it did—hells, even if it didn’t—there was not one damn thing in the entire realm that would stop him from returning to her.
Cedric awoke with Elyria in his arms, her head on his chest, one leg curled over his own.
Her wings were out, loose and free as they poured across his bed—a captivating tapestry.
He didn’t dare move, didn’t want to breathe too deeply, for fear of rousing her.
She looked so peaceful. So utterly devoid of that hard outer shell, that prickly exterior that, though he knew he was fully capable of cracking, must have taken so much effort to maintain.
He knew it couldn’t—wouldn’t—last long.
It didn’t.
The moment broke as soon as Elyria stirred, the slightest furrow to her brow when her green eyes fluttered open.
She tilted her head, looking up at him. The corners of her mouth curved into a beautiful, lazy smile.
And then—
“Shit.” She bolted upright, raking a hand down her face, her head darting from side to side as if she was trying to make sense of where she was.
Where they were, together.
Her shoulders slumped when her gaze collided with the window, taking in the cool light seeping in from the crack in his curtains. “Shit,” she said again.
Cedric pushed himself up onto one elbow, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hey, it’s all right. We still have some time.”
But she was already swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, the back of her head a mess of tangled periwinkle hair, her wings folded tightly against her back.
The space between them already felt cold.
“I need to go,” she said.
“You don’t have to.” He reached for her hand.
She let him take it. Hold it. If only for a moment.
“I’m supposed to meet the others at first light.” She gestured to the cool dawn light seeping in from Cedric’s window. “First light has nearly come.”
He sat up, scooting backward until his shoulders hit the headboard of his bed, watching her dart across the room to retrieve the boots she’d haphazardly kicked off before they fell asleep. “Elle—”
“Don’t.” The word wasn’t said in anger, but it still cut across Cedric’s ears like the sharpest blade. “Let’s not ruin this by talking.”
“You aren’t even going to say goodbye?”
She didn’t reply.
He sucked in a breath as shadows swarmed around her feet. “Admit you lied before,” he said, voice low. “Admit that this is something.”
She paused, boots in hand. Turning her head to glance back at him, some unnamed emotion flashed across her beautiful face. “Of course it is, dummy. That’s the problem.”
And then she was gone.