Chapter 40 #3
Dashol comes back for me not too long after lunch. “Alaris said you should get back to the rooms early.”
I glance at the gleaming eyes surrounding me, wondering if Alaris noticed how tired I was earlier, or used the hawks to spy on my dragging feet.
Either way, he’s right: as soon as I’m back in the room, I head straight for the curtained area and lie down.
Indulging in my memories each night is not without a cost. The tension makes its home in my body.
My jaw locks so tight I can’t loosen it. My temples pulse.
“Ly?” Alaris calls from the doorway. “It’s me.”
He’s come back far earlier than usual. I sit up.
“I brought some food in case you’re hungry.” He sets down a tray by the couches. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I say, standing quickly. Talking to him from the bed feels too intimate. “I’m not hungry. Did you eat?”
He doesn’t answer me at first. After a long silence, I look up. His arms are crossed.
“You’re in pain,” he says. “Your head?”
I don’t understand how he sees it from across the room.
“My jaw,” I admit, reaching for it, then letting my hand drop. “But it’s fine. I’ll sleep it off.”
“Difficult Ly, you’ve been letting this pain go for too long.”
“It’s alright.” I fidget. “It’s not an injury.”
“Pain is pain. And this is preventable. Why don’t you ask for a healer?”
I don’t answer. I don’t say I can’t stand letting strangers near—that I trace the silhouette of everyone I pass, comparing them against the masked man. That healers wear looser robes, making them harder to match up with my memories.
And I don’t say that I can’t bear to ask him for anything else. “It’s really fine.”
“Only if you stop.” He walks closer, reaching a hand up toward my jaw. “Stop.”
“Stop what?” I scowl. He doesn’t deserve my ire, but now that he’s drawn attention to it, I can’t ignore the ache in the back of my teeth.
“You’re clenching.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” His fingers hover near my face. “If you’re not, then I should be able to tell. May I?”
I nod in defiance, gritting my teeth even harder.
His thumb finds my chin, then his cool fingers cradle the side of my jaw. He presses, gently, at the hinge beneath my cheekbone.
That tiny bit of pressure radiates through my tense muscles with a mind-numbing pulse. It feels so good I twitch. It aches. He moves down the tiniest fraction, and I can’t suppress the sound I make. I brace one hand on his arm and gasp.
“That’s…” I breathe. “That’s unfair.”
He chuckles. “It’s not fair or unfair, it just is.”
He puts both hands on my jaw and kneads. His touch should be enough to coax the tension loose, but if anything, it just emphasizes how deep the ache goes. I could let him circle this spot for hours.
His dark eyes are fixed on me. A ring of silver flashes in them.
He clears his throat.
He takes my hands and lifts them, placing them where his fingers just were. “Rub here. It will help.”
I circle my fingers there, pushing hard, trying to emulate the feeling he gave me. I press until I can barely stand it. It’s not enough. I push until my hands shake.
“Alright, alright,” he says, pulling my wrists away. “There is another spot. Can I show you? I have to…inside.”
He hovers his fingers in front of my mouth, indicating he wants to put them in.
Maybe he likes helping you.
I swallow, pain and curiosity overcoming any better judgment. I let my lips soften and part.
A ring of silver surrounds his pupils.
He slips his first two fingers into my mouth. Deep. All the way to the second knuckle. He wraps one hand around my shoulders to hold me still. My tongue flicks against them as I stare up at him, mortified I agreed to this.
And then, he presses.
My head empties.
I whimper now, the exquisite pleasure-pain replacing every other thought. I can’t speak, or breathe, as he circles the muscles I didn’t know I had on the inside of my cheek. I want to pull away. I want to move closer. But I’m frozen, desperate for every movement.
It’s wet. And intimate. And so embarrassing, I don’t want to imagine what I look like. But the tension eases, the pain I never thought I could release giving, just a little.
I open my eyes, not realizing I closed them, and find his gaze solid silver.
He pulls his fingers out.
I’m panting, lips wet. I want his fingers back in my mouth.
I want to lick them. I want his mouth on my mouth.
Warmth pulses between my legs. I want him to touch me there too.
I can’t help but picture the things he would do to me with just as much intensity and focus, with just as much skill, to achieve any outcome he desired.
“Better?” he asks, his own jaw popping with tension.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Alright. Then go to sleep, stubborn Ly.”
Before I can say another word, he steps back, and the curtain swings shut between us.
Neither of us moves. He’s still on the other side. I’m in dangerous territory. My blood is on fire. I don’t know if I can ignore this new ache.
His steps move away, then the door to the bedroom opens and closes. I collapse against the bed.
I’m in trouble. I promised myself I wouldn’t take another moment of his time. I know I shouldn’t want anything more from him. He’s already letting me stay in his room. He’s already given me his protection.
I have spent twenty-one years learning to push everything down. Fear, want, anger, hope. I buried all of it.
But in this moment, if he opened those curtains, I don’t think I could find a single wall left standing.