Chapter 24 Ciaran
CIARAN
The pieces fall into place with a clarity that's almost painful.
How did I not see it before? Those violet eyes with their silver flecks—exactly like mine, like Nya's, like every member of the Delyth bloodline stretching back generations.
The way she tilted her head when I taught her about meter and rhyme, the same unconscious gesture I make when I'm working through a particularly complex verse.
The familiar resonance of her magic tonight, calling to mine like an echo.
Of course Rhea is my blood. Of course.
But Brynn still looks like she's in shock, like knowing I'm related to that bastard of my brother could change her mind. And now that I know he's the asshole standing between us, I'm more determined than ever to show her she has nothing to worry about.
"Brynn." I cup her face in both hands, forcing her to look at me. "Listen to me very carefully."
She blinks, her lips parting slightly as she waits for whatever blow she thinks is coming.
"I am nothing like my brother." The words come out fiercer than I intended, but I need her to understand. "Nothing. Cyprien is selfish and reckless and incapable of putting anyone before his art. He's brilliant, yes, but he's also a coward who runs the moment things get complicated."
Her breath hitches, but she doesn't pull away.
"I knew from the moment I met you that I couldn't leave," I continue, my thumbs stroking across her cheekbones.
"Not you, not this place, not what we were building together.
The fact that anyone could meet you and walk away makes them a fool of the highest order.
But now that I know Rhea, too? It doesn't matter if we're blood-related or not. She's felt like mine for far too long."
I lean closer, until our foreheads are nearly touching.
"I'm in too deep, love. I couldn't let either of you go if I tried. And I won't try. Ever."
Something shifts in her expression—the fear giving way to something softer, warmer. Hope, maybe. Trust.
"I know," she whispers, her hands coming up to cover mine. "That's why I fell in love with you."
She loves me. This incredible woman, this fierce mother, this person who's become the center of my world in just a few short weeks—she loves me.
Before I can respond, her lips are on mine.
The kiss starts gentle, tentative, but it deepens quickly as weeks of careful restraint finally snap.
Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I can taste the desperation on her tongue, the need that matches my own.
Tonight has stripped us both raw—the terror of nearly losing Rhea, the revelation about Cyprien, the admission of love—and we're both reaching for something solid, something real.
"Take me to my room," she breathes against my mouth, and the husky need in her voice makes my cock twitch.
I don't need to be asked twice.
I stand and pull her with me, my hands never leaving her body as we stumble toward her bedroom.
She turns in my arms as soon as we cross the threshold, pressing me back against the closed door as her mouth finds mine again.
Her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt with increasing urgency, and I groan when her palms flatten against my chest, nails scraping lightly through the dark hair there.
"Brynn," I growl, catching her hands. "Slow down."
"No." She shakes her head, her eyes bright with need. "I've been slow for weeks. I've been careful and afraid and—"
I silence her with a kiss, pouring all my understanding into the connection of our mouths.
Then I spin us, pressing her back against the door instead, my body caging her in.
The change in position shifts the dynamic immediately—she's looking up at me now, pupils dilated, lips swollen from my kisses.
"You want fast?" I ask, my voice dropping to that low register that always makes her shiver. "Then let me take care of you properly."
I trail my mouth down the column of her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.
My hands find the laces of her bodice, making quick work of them until the fabric loosens enough for me to push it off her shoulders.
She's not wearing a chemise underneath—just smooth, warm skin that tastes like honey and salt when I drag my tongue across her collarbone.
"Beautiful," I murmur against her skin, my hands spanning her ribcage. "So fucking beautiful."
She arches into my touch, her head falling back against the door with a soft thud. I take advantage of the exposed line of her throat, nipping and sucking until I find the spot that makes her gasp and her knees buckle slightly.
"That's it," I growl, steadying her with my hands on her waist. "Let me hear you."
My mouth works its way lower, following the swell of her breasts.
When I take one nipple between my lips, she cries out softly, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I lavish attention on the peak until it's hard and glistening, then move to the other, using my teeth just enough to make her hips jerk against mine.
"Ciaran, please—"
"Please what?" I lift my head to look at her, taking in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her lips are parted as she pants. "Tell me what you need."
"You," she breathes. "All of you. Now."
But I'm not done with her yet. Not nearly.
I drop to my knees in front of her, my hands working at the ties of her skirt until it pools around her ankles. She's bare underneath, and the sight of her—flushed and wet and wanting—makes my cock throb almost painfully against my trousers.
"Spread your legs for me," I command, my voice rough with need.
She complies immediately, bracing her hands against the door as I settle between her thighs. I press a kiss to the inside of one knee, then work my way higher, alternating between gentle nips and soothing strokes of my tongue. By the time I reach the apex of her thighs, she's trembling.
I pause, just breathing on her for a moment, watching the way her muscles clench in anticipation. Then I lean forward and drag my tongue through her folds in one long, slow stroke.
"Oh gods," she gasps, her hips bucking forward.
I grip her thighs to hold her steady as I feast on her, my tongue circling her clit before dipping lower to taste her sweetness. She's so responsive, so perfect, and the sounds she makes—little gasps and moans that she tries to muffle—only spur me on.
When I slide one finger inside her, she clenches around me immediately, so tight and wet that I have to grit my teeth to maintain control. I add a second finger, pumping slowly as my mouth continues its assault on her clit.
"More," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, I need—"
I curl my fingers, finding that spot that makes her see stars, and she cries out louder this time. Too loud. The girls are sleeping just down the hall.
Without breaking rhythm, I reach out with my magic and cast a sound barrier around the room. It's a simple spell, one that will allow us to hear anything from outside while keeping our sounds contained within these walls.
"Now," I growl against her slick heat, "you can be as loud as you want."
I redouble my efforts, adding a third finger and thrusting harder, faster, while my tongue works mercilessly at her clit. She's climbing higher, her thighs starting to shake around my head, her hands fisted so tightly in my hair it's almost painful.
"That's it," I encourage, pumping my fingers deeper. "Come for me, love. Let me feel you fall apart."
She breaks with a cry that echoes off the walls, her body convulsing around my fingers as I work her through the waves of pleasure. I don't stop until she's pushing weakly at my shoulders, oversensitive and gasping.
When I finally pull back, her legs are unsteady. I rise slowly, my hands trailing up her body to steady her, and the look in her eyes—dazed and satisfied but still hungry—makes my chest tight with possession.
"Bed," I say simply, lifting her into my arms before she can protest.
I carry her the few steps to the narrow bed and lay her out on the worn quilt, taking a moment to just look at her. Her hair is spread and her eyes wild, her chest heaving. She looks so fucking perfect right now.
"Stay exactly like that," I command, my voice dropping to that authoritative tone that always makes her eyes darken. The kind that comes out when the last of my control snaps. And with Brynn, I feel perfectly out of control. "Don't move unless I tell you to."
She nods, biting her lower lip, and the small act of submission sends heat straight to my cock.
I've learned over these past weeks that Brynn responds to direction, to being told exactly what I want from her.
She's spent so long being strong for everyone else that she craves those moments when she can just surrender, let someone else take control.
And fuck, do I love being that someone.
I lean over her, bracing my hands on either side of her head, and begin a slow exploration of her body with my mouth. I start at her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck, tasting the salt on her skin.
"You're so fucking perfect," I growl against her collarbone, feeling her pulse jump beneath my lips. "Do you know how many nights I've thought about having you like this? Spread out and wanting beneath me?"
She whimpers softly, her hands twitching at her sides like she wants to reach for me.
"Not yet," I warn, nipping at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. "You don't touch until I say so."
I work my way down her body with deliberate slowness, mapping every dip and curve with my tongue. When I reach her breasts, I circle one nipple with the tip of my tongue, barely making contact, watching as it hardens into a tight peak.
"Such beautiful tits," I murmur, blowing cool air across the wet skin and making her arch beneath me. "I could spend hours just worshipping these."