Chapter Thirty
The common room buzzed with celebration, voices layered over the clink of mugs and the occasional burst of laughter that came with victory wine.
Liri had claimed the largest armchair and was holding court about her aerial maneuvers, gesturing wildly with a chocolate tart in one hand.
Barrett sat quietly beside her, his usual reserved smile softened by genuine contentment.
Even Oliver had emerged from his corner to demonstrate crossbow trajectory angles using dinner rolls and increasingly elaborate hand gestures.
Cassara lifted her mug to her lips again, savoring the warm burn of the spiced wine as it settled pleasantly in her chest. Not drunk, she wasn’t stupid, but she had drunk enough that the edges of everything felt softer and she felt bold enough that the voice in her head telling her to be careful had finally shut up.
They’d won. She’d led them to victory and she was tired of pretending she didn’t want things she couldn’t have.
“I need some air,” she announced, setting down her half-empty mug and slipping toward the door before anyone could protest.
The corridors beyond the common room were cooler and certainly quieter, but instead of sobering her up, the contrast only heightened the pleasant warmth spreading through her veins. She’d earned this. Earned the victory, earned the celebration, earned the right to want things without apology.
Her feet found their way to the overlook without conscious direction, muscle memory guiding her up the familiar stone steps.
She leaned against the stone railing, tilting her face up to the stars and finally allowing herself to feel it, the intoxicating rush of having proved everyone wrong. Including herself.
“Trouble sleeping?”
The voice came from behind her, low and familiar, and instead of the usual flutter of nerves, warmth bloomed in her chest.
“No trouble at all,” she said, not turning around. She was feeling brave, or perhaps reckless. Let him come to her. “Just enjoying the view.”
She held her breath and waited, resisting the urge to turn around. Within moments she felt his presence at her back like warmth from a fire. Close enough to touch, if she wanted to.
And oh, she wanted to.
“Celebrating?” he asked, and she caught the note of amusement in his voice that meant he’d most likely noticed her slightly flushed cheeks and the way she swayed.
“Thoroughly.” She turned then, offering him a smile that was pure challenge. “Care to join me?”
Auren’s gaze swept over her face, taking in the brightness in her eyes, the way she held herself with liquid confidence. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to stop caring about being careful,” she said, taking a deliberate step closer. “Not enough to do anything I’ll regret.”
“Cassara—”
“Do you know what I was thinking about out there today?” she interrupted, moving closer. “When Flicker saved my life, when we won, when everything finally came together?”
“What?” His voice was carefully controlled, but she caught the way his breathing had changed.
“I was thinking about you.” Another step. “About how you believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. About how you see me, not just the name or the legacy or the expectations, but the real me. The messy me.”
“You should go back to your celebration,” he said, but he didn’t move away.
“Should I?” She reached up, fingers trailing along the edge of his collar. “Or should I stay here and tell you all the other things I’ve been thinking about?”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“Probably not.” Her smile turned wicked.
“But I’ve had several very good ideas today, and where did that get me?
Victory. Recognition. Everything I wanted.
” Her hand flattened against his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath her palm.
“Maybe it’s time I tried a bad idea, just to see what happens. ”
“Cassara.” Her name came out rough, warned.
“Say it again,” she whispered, pressing closer until she could feel his breath against her lips. “I like the way you say my name when you’re trying not to want me.”
“I’m not trying not to want you,” he said, his hands finally moving to her waist. “You’ve been drinking. I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what? From whom?” She laughed, the sound bright and dangerous. “I just led my team to victory against impossible odds. I think I can handle one overly serious instructor.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Good thing I’m not afraid of getting burned.”
That broke something in his control. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against him as his mouth crashed down to hers.
She kissed him back with wine-bright boldness, her hands tangling in his hair, her body arching against his like she was trying to erase every inch of space between them. When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
“This is dangerous,” he said against her lips. “Someone could—”
“Everything worth having is dangerous,” she replied, nipping at his lower lip just to watch his eyes darken. “The question is—are you brave enough to want it anyway?”
His answer was another kiss, deeper this time, as his hands slid lower, fingers digging into the curve of her hips with a possessiveness that sent lightning through her veins.
Cassara gasped against his mouth, feeling her control, the control she’d been wielding like a weapon, start to slip away.
The wine-warm confidence in her blood transformed into something hotter, more urgent.
“You want to play games?” Auren growled, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down the column of her throat. His stubble scraped deliciously against her sensitive skin, making her shiver.
“I don’t hate them,” she replied, tilting her head to give him better access. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling in her eagerness. “Especially when I’m winning.”
He pressed her back against the railing, his hands sliding beneath her shirt, palms mapping the soft skin of her waist, her ribs, higher still.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice rough with desire as he stopped just shy of her breasts. “To break my control?”
“Yes,” she admitted, arching into his touch. “And it worked.”
“Are you sure?”
Before she could respond, he captured her mouth again, this time with a deliberate slowness that made her whimper.
Gone was the desperate clash of their first kiss—this was calculated, methodical, designed to drive her mad.
His tongue teased hers, retreating when she tried to deepen the kiss, setting a rhythm that had her clutching at his shoulders.
“You think you’ve won,” he murmured against her lips, one hand sliding up to cup her breast. His thumb circled her nipple, never quite giving her the pressure she craved. “But I’m just getting started.”
Cassara shuddered at his words, the promise in them making her knees weak. His thumb finally pressed against her stiffening peak, drawing a gasp from her lips that turned into a moan when he rolled it between his fingers.
Without warning he spun her around in one fluid motion, his chest pressing against her back as his hands slid down her sides to her hips.
The railing bit into her palms as she caught herself, the stone cool and rough beneath her fingers.
He nudged her legs apart with his knee, the fabric of his trousers brushing against her inner thighs causing her to tremble.
“Is this what you imagined?” he whispered in her ear, as he leaned over her.
His body caged hers, warm and solid, one hand sliding down her side to grip her hip the other moving up her spine, applying gentle but insistent pressure between her shoulder blades until she bent forward over the railing.
“What about when you were out there being reckless and brilliant today, is this what you thought about?”
“Yes,” she admitted, voice husky with desire as his hand tangled in her hair, not pulling but holding, a gentle restraint that made her pulse quicken.
His lips found the curve of her throat, teeth grazing the skin before soothing it with his tongue. The sensation made her moan, louder than she’d intended, the sound carrying out into the night.
“Careful,” he warned, his voice amused even as his hand tightened in her hair. “Unless you want the entire academy to hear what a beast tamer sounds like when she’s being tamed.”
His hand at her hip slid lower, fingers bunching the fabric of her skirt, dragging it upward until cool air kissed the backs of her thighs.
“Auren,” she gasped, pressing back against him instinctively.
“Patience…” he murmured, but his own control was slipping, she could hear it in the roughness of his breathing, feel it in the hardness pressing against her. His hand skimmed up her inner thigh, fingertips tracing patterns that made her quiver.
When his fingers finally brushed against her through her undergarments, Cassara bit her lower lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. The thin fabric was already damp, and his touch sent fire through her core.
“Remember,” Auren whispered against her ear, his voice a dangerous rumble that sent shivers cascading down her spine, “not a sound. Even out here, the night carries voices.” His teeth grazed her earlobe as his fingers pushed the fabric aside and pressed inside of her.
Her hands gripped the railing tighter, knuckles whitening as she fought to maintain her composure.
The stars blurred above her as her eyes lost focus, pleasure spiraling outward from his skilled touch.
How had simple teasing led to this? She’d challenged him, but never expected him to call her bluff so thoroughly.
Each thrust of his fingers drew her closer to the edge, her breath coming in short, desperate pants that she struggled to keep silent.
“Please,” she breathed, barely audible, her hips moving unconsciously against his hand.