29 #3
And devil help me, but I do. Emeric and Ceri enter a heartbeat later, each carrying a travel bag.
Ceri is the first to notice what’s happening.
Her wide gaze flicks from Slade to me, then back again.
Slade looks utterly at ease. I, on the other hand, wouldn’t mind if a crevasse formed in the earth beneath me.
It’s not that I’m self-conscious—after all, I’m still fully clothed.
But the rope around my neck might as well be neon yellow, and I’m pretty sure the unspoken rule is to refrain from doing things like this in the presence of others.
Ceri challenges my assumptions, though, when she merely snickers. “You didn’t want to use one of the bedrooms?”
“The fire is part of it,” Slade says. He indicates with his chin.
I say nothing, seeing as I still can’t raise my arms.
“Been there,” is Emeric’s dry contribution as he sets down his luggage and collapses onto the couch. His dark curls are slightly windswept, his eyes full of amusement when they meet mine. “I suppose I ought to make sure you agreed to this, Talin.”
I glance skyward and press my lips together, giving a sardonic nod. I’m way too hot. I wonder how much longer Slade will relish this before he gets bored.
“Oh, she agreed,” Slade says over his shoulder, making his way to the attached kitchen. “She knows she deserves it too. Did you know she was still in contact with Gabriel until recently? Only to keep up appearances, apparently, but I’m not sure I believe it.”
I swivel my head to glare at him, baring my teeth. He braces his elbows on the countertop, watching me balefully in return.
“That makes sense,” Ceri objects, stepping over Emeric’s outstretched legs to approach me. “Personally, I feel like Slade is a little overzealous when it comes to punishment. If I were you, I’d punish him right back.”
I raise a questioning brow as she comes to kneel in front of me, grinning conspiratorially. Her cheeks are pink from the wind, precisely the same color as her full lips.
“He doesn’t like to share,” she tells me. That grin turns wicked. “One might even say he’s a bit jealous.” She glances at Emeric over her shoulder. “Do you mind?”
His arms are crossed, his posture relaxed. “Not at all.”
Ceri picks up the discarded knife and motions for me to turn around.
When I do—with some difficulty—she uses it to cut the bindings around my wrists.
She leaves the rope looped around my neck, however, taking hold of the end and gently using it to pull me back.
It’s clear she’s gauging my reaction, looking for some indication that I’m okay with this, and in response I tilt my face up to hers.
I can feel Slade watching. His rapt attention is as hot as the fire blazing behind me.
That, combined with Ceri’s sweet scent, nearly undoes me.
Her mouth is perfectly shaped, the slender line of her neck begging to be grabbed.
The depths of her green eyes are teasing, then serious.
She presses her index finger to my lower lip. Gives the rope one final tug.
Ceri tastes as heavenly as I’d expected.
Her mouth slants against mine, her tongue parting my lips and flicking against my teeth.
I’m still sweaty as hell, but it doesn’t appear to bother her.
Her free hand moves to the small of my back as I wind both of mine into her hair.
The strands are silken-soft, as is her skin when I let my fingers trail down the side of her neck and over the curve of her shoulders.
She’s taller than I am, so I rise higher onto my knees, pressing my chest into hers.
I gasp as we break apart, breathless, but I have scarcely a moment to recover before she’s pressing kisses to my jaw, my throat, my clavicle.
I tilt my head back and let my eyelids flutter closed, skimming a hand down to grip her arm.
She’s surprisingly muscular, and when I dig my nails in, it elicits a soft groan from her.
Our mouths meet again, and this time I take control, sliding my tongue against hers.
She’s all mint and vanilla. All smooth curves and delicate lines.
She would be so easy to lose myself in—except that I can still feel an insistent presence to my left, accompanied by a tangible fury that only drives me wilder.
“Enough.”
I don’t need to turn to know Slade is the one who’s taken hold of the rope around my neck, using it to yank me backward.
His knife flashes far too close to my throat, freeing me from that final restraint.
Ceri sits back on her heels with a smug smile—he is rattled.
The Warden of the Trench, who so rarely has an outward reaction to anything, doesn’t like to see me kissing someone else.
“You’re a nightmare, Ceri.” Slade’s tone is bored, but he’s not fooling either of us. “Was there really any need to put on a show?”
“I enjoyed it,” Emeric offers from the sofa.
Slade rolls his eyes. “You can speak again,” he informs me. “Go clean yourself up. Now.”
I rise unsteadily to my feet, my sore muscles protesting. “Yes, sir.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, but I don’t give him the opportunity to say anything more. It’s only a few moments later, as I’m stripping off my damp clothes in the silence of the bathroom, that I wonder if I’ve inadvertently let my current situation become even more dangerous.