17 How to put a Lord Daeyari on his back
Fi sprawled across several cushions, music playing on the gramophone, halfway through her third record of the night when static finally skimmed her tongue. She looked up to find a new shadow within the sitting room.
Antal stood behind her, returned at last from the Twilit Plane.
Merciless Void, he was a stunning creature by any measure, unfairly so in his daeyari attire. His black and iridescent jacket accentuated his lithe frame, trousers slim to his thighs. Blue-black hair lay tousled between his antlers.
His eyes were tired, red smoldering within black sclera.
He looked Fi over with a curious sway to his tail. “You weren’t at the capitol.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t feel like waiting.”
“You Voidwalked?” Tired, but every line of him lit up when he grinned. Fi could devour that grin with her teeth.
Antal cocked his head to the gramophone. His tail curled a new arc, swishing in rhythm to the piano and clarinet. He held out his hand.
She arched a brow at him, then her casual sweater and trousers. Antal scoffed.
“Don’t be absurd, Fionamara. I’d have you dressed in anything.” His voice roughened. “Or nothing.”
The heat of his eyes shivered through her. Fi still hadn’t settled from her talk with Kashvi that afternoon. Antal looked equally unsteady, his hair a little too tousled, reaching for her before sharing any news of his visit to the Dusk Council.
For both reasons, she took his hand.
He wrapped his arm around her lower back. She settled against him, hand on his shoulder. They swayed together to find the tempo. One. Two. One, two, three, then—
Antal pulled her into a six-count. The music set the rhythm, but the steps were improvised. He led.
Fi followed, claws impossibly light against her fingers as he pushed her out.
He pulled her in, his elbow at her back, guiding her to turn.
A lifted hand sent her into a twirl. Fi spun an arm out for him to catch her on the other side, an ebb and flow of tension, a moment where she dangled on his fingertips and swung her hips to the swell of the music.
Antal always smiled when they danced. Fi glimpsed it between each turn, drank it in when he pulled her against him one final time, the song winding to a close.
A tired smile, too brittle on the edges.
Antal held her as the next song started, arm around her waist. He tilted his head, eyes closed as he buried his face in her hair. Fi ran a finger down his jacket, tracing iridescent inlays.
“How was the Dusk Council?” she asked.
A growl rumbled Antal’s chest. “Avroz has volunteered to lead a hunt for the aedari.”
“Oh. Great. How fun for him.”
“He… wishes me to join.”
Fi laughed. Avroz wanted a favor? After all the shit he’d put Antal through? Maybe this terrifying aedari would do them all a courtesy and take Avroz’s head off instead.
“Why aren’t you laughing?” she asked.
Antal’s grim expression sapped her levity. Fi saw it then: the gloss in his eyes, the way he didn’t want to look at her.
She’d left him on his own for one Void-damned afternoon.
“We agreed to a deal,” he said. “I’ll help hunt the aedari, seek a seat on the Daey Celva, as he’s always wished. In return, I’ll also keep my territory here in Thomaskweld, and Avroz will ensure the council formally recognizes our new system.”
As he spoke, Fi’s brows went through a whirlwind of incredulity, outrage… then stunned surprise. Antal had cut a deal without her, and that deserved some words later, but—
“Holy shit,” she said. “That isn’t an awful deal. It’s… hold on… he wants you on the Dusk Council?”
“As all my ancestors were,” Antal murmured.
“And this is bad because… ?”
“It’s what Avroz wants. What he chose for me. But I could bear it… if I could keep Thomaskweld.” He cupped her cheek. “If I could keep you.”
It was, in fact, a deal that could come out alarmingly in their favor. This made Fi immediately suspicious. “Can you trust him?”
Antal laughed, humorless. “I have no choice. He knows the changes we’ve made here. He could have me deposed.”
She’d left him alone. For one afternoon.
Fi weighed the compromise. She didn’t like compromise, would have preferred to have Avroz’s antlers as s’mores skewers rather than helping him, but that probably wouldn’t go very far as a counteroffer.
“Fine,” she said. “When do we leave?”
“We?” Antal looked pained. “There’s no we in this, Fionamara. I made the deal. I’ll go.”
She patted his chest, equally outraged and amused.
“Antal. My love. You’re two and a half centuries old. Certainly, you’re clever enough to realize there’s no way I’m letting you do this alone.”
He bared a fang at her. “The hunt will be too dangerous.”
Too dangerous—for a human. Fi bristled at words unsaid. “I’ve hunted immortals before.”
“Aedari are different beasts, deadly to all but the fiercest daeyari warriors. I was already foolish to take you to the Twilit Plane. I won’t risk your life again.”
He had the gall to step away. As if that would be the end of this. As if turning his back could dismiss her so easily.
As if she really was a mere vavraesa, not fit for his world of dueling immortals.
“You owe me a favor, daeyari.”
Antal froze halfway across the room. He faced her slowly, eyes wide.
Good. Fi refused to be that helpless hare. Never again.
“Fionamara,” he whispered her name like a plea.
“For helping you defeat Verne,” Fi said. “For helping reclaim your territory. You promised me a favor, Lord Daeyari.”
“Fionamara, stop this.”
“One unspecified favor.” She held a finger up, brandished like a weapon. “For me to call in when I wish. Alarmingly vague. Which is your own damn fault.”
“Please.”
“I was saving it for something fun!” She threw up her hands. “A nice vacation. Or something kinky. But I guess we’re doing this, instead. I’m going on the aedari hunt with you.”
He crossed the room, reaching for her face with both hands. “This is no mere hunt, Fionamara. Aedari are ferocious. Deadly.”
“I’m objectively a better fighter than you,” she returned flatly.
He hesitated. A meek, “That… feels unfair…”
“Who saved you when Tyvo had you on the ground?” Fi clawed her fingers into his jacket, pulling him closer. “Who put the sword through Verne’s chest?”
He flashed a fang. Grumbled.
“Say it Antlers. Out loud.”
“You did.” His tone was hushed, his thumb on her cheek in a slow, reverent stroke. “You beautiful, vicious woman. You did.”
“And you honestly think you’re going on an immortal hunt without me?”
Fi had never bested an immortal in single combat. Neither had Antal, in her time with him. But they’d managed it together.
He studied her with bright eyes. Void, when he looked at her like that, she could almost believe she was all he’d ever need. That everything they’d fought for wasn’t on the line. Again.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.
“And you think I could lose you?” She wound a hand behind his neck, slipping fingers through his hair. “Would you be happier with me at your side?”
“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. “Of course, yes. But—”
Fi crashed her lips against that dumb, selfless mouth of his.
She claimed him for herself. Claimed their burdens as something to share, not whatever bullshit he was about to spin. Antal growled at the assault. Then he sank into her, claws tightening on her cheeks, pulling her into him as her tongue traced his fangs.
Hers. He was hers, and she’d not give him up without a fight.
Fi pulled back, fingers knotted in his hair. “We’ve always been stronger together. I’ll protect you. And you’ll protect me. We’ll keep this Plane safe from your wicked aedari.”
His eyes were embers. Their breaths, tangled as his nose brushed hers.
“Our home,” he said.
“Our home,” she agreed.
He kissed her again, fiercer in the press of his lips. More desperate, in the rough slick of his tongue into her mouth, a low and aching sound in his throat. They hadn’t touched like this since their trip to the Twilit Plane. It felt like reconciliation.
Like the gulp of air Fi needed.
“Are you hungry, daeyari?” she asked in his native tongue.
“For you?” His exhale fell hot against her mouth. “I’m always starving.”
Was he? Fi dragged a hand down his chest, his stomach, scraping the snug fabric of his trousers. She pressed a palm to his groin—already hard.
Of course yelling at him made him hard. Simple beast.
Antal pushed into her grip, a groan as she stroked him through fabric.
Here was a balm to some of her doubts, the reassurance of how much he wanted her.
The reassurance of how much she wanted him, her pulse quickening at the thought of claws on bare skin, of every honed muscle put to the purpose of her.
His tail coiled around her calf. Fi still had no tail to reciprocate.
That was the point of role play, wasn’t it? Fi was no daeyari, but she could act like one.
She came at him with her teeth, a bite to his jaw then a long, slow trace of tongue up his neck, just as Ixli had done.
His growl slid into a moan, offered to the hollow of her throat as he nipped her chin.
She grabbed his antlers. He snarled. Merciless Void, she loved when he snarled.
Fi snarled back and raked her teeth across the bare skin beneath his collar.
They fell to the sitting cushions in a tangle, two beasts with fangs bared. Antal caught himself on his elbows. Fi straddled his hips, attacking his jacket buttons with ruthless purpose.
“You should dress like this more often,” she said.
He tipped a brow. “You don’t find it ostentatious?”
“It’s delicious. I want to rip it off you.”
“Ah.” Antal grinned, all sharp teeth. “Now you know how I feel.”
She pulled off his jacket in a flash of iridescence, baring the muscles of his shoulders, the smooth breadth of his chest. All for her. Fi dragged her tongue over his collarbone. Skated teeth down his sternum. His skin simmered with energy, leaving a prickle on her lips.
Antal pulled her sweater over her head. His hands ran the curves of her hips, digging claws into skin, just sharp enough to make Fi gasp. To make her loosen her grip.
Then the fight began.