Chapter 26 #4
At some point I must have leaned back, because I found myself lying against the pillows of the bed, staring up at him. My thoughts were muddled.
“I owe you one more,” his voice rubbed against my skin like silk.
“No–I mean yes,” I whispered, need and urgency giving my voice a frenzied whine. I slid my free hand up to his hair, curling my fingers into the lushness. I tugged his face toward mine.
The handsome curve of his mouth made me want to taste it even more as he lowered his head toward mine.
He took the hand covering mine off his chest and deftly screwed the lid back onto the ink bottle single handed, my eyes tracking the movement hungrily.
Looking back up at him, he hadn’t even looked at the ink well.
His eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed. The rhythmic beating in my chest was reaching fever pitch.
“Is that a yes to Skinscript, or something else?”
Sliding my other hand up from his chest, I locked it around his neck and pulled him closer. “Both,” I breathed.
He groaned, hands cupping my face. “Reckless.”
His lips were so close to mine, I could smell his minty breath, feel each puff of breath on my skin.
“Stop talking,” I ordered, pressing my lips against his.
I swallowed his groan of final protest, as his body weight settled above mine.
He tasted sweet and wicked, like every promise I’d ever broken.
My pulse quickened. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was air, ravishing my mouth with his lips, tongue, and teeth.
Heat was building at my core, pleasure blocking out all reason.
My lips parted at the sweep of his tongue, our breaths mixing together as I slid a tentative tongue into his mouth and he drove a daring one into mine.
I moaned into his mouth, pressing up to him as close as I could get, tugging him down harder, urging him on.
His arms were sliding up my sides, a delicate caress that sent shivers through my body. His heart pounded at the same speed as mine, a beautiful duet of drum beats. Liquid fire was pumping through my veins, I needed this. I needed him. And I needed more.
I arched my back up against him–
Distantly, I heard the sound of a door opening. “Holy Devourer!” Sarina’s voice.
Zevrial cursed, panting as he turned his head sideways, trying to regain his equanimity.
His body was so broad it blocked most of Sarina’s view of me.
He tugged my nightgown back down to conceal the Skinscript on my inner thighs as he tucked the inkwell back into his pocket.
He pushed up off the bed and cleared his throat. All in the span of just a few seconds.
I was in a much more disheveled state, emotions running havoc.
I lay there, dazed and disoriented for several seconds, my body missing the pressure of his above it, my lips aching for the feel of his again.
It took me far too long to register that Sarina had walked in.
Blood rushed to my entire face as I rolled onto my side, sitting up as my hand pressed to my swollen lips.
“We weren’t–” I started.
Sarina looked flabbergasted. Her expression shifted to impish as she turned, about to walk back through the door.
“Where are you going?” Zevrial asked, his voice still roughened and deep. He took a step toward her as if to stop her.
“Anywhere but here,” she answered. “Hell, I’ll sleep on a bench if it means you finally get some. Just don’t break any of my furniture.” She let the door thud shut behind her.
I stared at the closed door, mouth agape.
Zevrial turned back toward me, his lips almost bruised.
Awkwardness and sexual tension clouded the air like a perfume.
I cleared my throat. “She won’t say anything about us,” I rushed.
“Oh, I know she won’t,” Zevrial crossed the room in two steps, letting the door slam shut behind him. I sat staring at the door for several minutes, trying to even my breathing and process everything that had just happened.
Distantly, I registered Sarina returning and getting ready for bed. She said something, but I just nodded along as if I was listening.
This was Corra, not Sarina. She wasn’t wearing the bracelet. I didn’t know which one had walked in on us.
In the stillness of night, two fundamental truths sank into me.
I couldn’t give up on becoming a Voyager.
The Skinscript on my inner thighs was proof I had no intention of backing away from whatever the final exam threw at me.
I couldn’t un-know what I did now about the miasma rising and the potential collapse of the barriers.
Becoming a Voyager meant more than escaping Nikolach, it was a way to protect my family.
To defend my island from the monsters that would overrun it otherwise.
Cowering in feigned ignorance in another service wasn’t an option.
The second truth was scarier than any creatures the miasma could unleash. Discomfort and cognitive dissonance cottoned the inside of my mouth until it felt drier than Jakavra’s sand.
I wanted Zevrial.