Chapter Seven
Shadow Self
The rhythmic squeaking of a bed frame and the soft patter of rain against the window accompanied the pleasurable moans and groans from the room below.
Upon her arrival at The Ladies Grace, Eleanor had to shut out these noises if she wanted to preserve a thread of her sanity.
However, she now listened to whoever was working for their client below.
The delicate moan became breathy as the metal frame increased its squeaks.
Eleanor had to give credit to whoever was in the room below.
They were good. Their sensual moans weren't over-exaggerated, and it elicited the same low groan from the client. Although she refused to envision who was in the room, from the rhythmic squeaks and timed groans, she knew what position they’d be in: the woman on top with the client underneath.
This was a position she used with her clients, but not because they were lazy and expected her to do everything.
Despite reading a story all day, Eleanor had been tossing and turning in bed.
She couldn’t rid herself of what, or rather who, consumed her thoughts.
In the blackness of her room, dark eyes looked back at her.
Those were the eyes that belonged to the Dark God, eyes that she had agonizingly and painstakingly torn herself away from.
As the pleasured moans continued to call from below, finally Eleanor had enough of being frustrated and unable to think of anything else.
She closed her eyes and used the lewd sounds of carnal pleasure to become background noise to her own personal fantasy.
The dark-haired stranger from court replaced the unknown man’s low groans.
It was effortless to conjure the memory of that room full of colourful silks and glittering jewels that resembled stars in the sky, while he was an incandescent blot.
A fallen dark star.
The pure vision that he’d been in that throne-like golden chair, sitting there, purposeful and commanding.
Darkness wrapped around him as if he belonged there.
The depths of the Slumbering Lake held the only blue as dark as his long-coat and waistcoat.
With one arm draped almost lazily over the chair’s arm, while he raised the other towards her.
All it took was for him to give an assertive flick of his pointer and index fingers decorated in priceless rings, and in that simple gesture he let his rule known, not just to her, but to everyone in his presence.
He demanded her.
It was enough to make her lightheaded at the thought of this Dark Star wanting her .
It was nighttime, a time where secrets could hide and Eleanor didn’t want to admit it in the light of day, but stars , if he desired it, she’d be his pet.
Only his.
She let herself indulge in the fantasy she had longed to surrender to since laying eyes on him in the room filled with rich pleasure.
If she could have, then without a shadow of a doubt, she would have obeyed his quiet command. The moment he flicked his long, elegant fingers, she would have gone to him.
Stars, she would have crawled to him if he had commanded it. That thought should have terrified her, but she was alone, in a rickety single bed, in some seedy part of Breninsol. Behind a closed door, she could admit to herself that she would have willingly crawled to him if he had desired it.
She wouldn’t have hesitated to get down on her knees and crawl on the cold floor, ignoring the way her dress tugged at her waist and breasts from getting caught under her knees. Her arse would have swayed in time with her movements, while her hands hit the smooth surface of the marble floor.
She’d have been a spectacle for everyone present, but she’d have ignored everyone else as she held the attention of the one and only being that mattered. Him .
Her knees would have reddened from her crawl across the floor, but she wouldn’t have cared. She’d have crawled through much worse to get to him, even the Mother herself wouldn’t have stopped her from getting to him.
She’d only stop her journey across the room when she was in front of his shiny black boots. Kneeling before him under heavy lashes, she’d have looked up at him. He would allow her to be this close to him, closer than any of those around him. Only she would have that coveted privilege.
She would be close enough to see how handsome he undoubtedly was, with his dark eyes glinting beneath the chandeliers. She wondered whether his hair was as black as the night, and if his lips were full or fine.
She would have kneeled at his feet, waiting, until he made his ruling known.
Would he leave her breathless as she remained at his feet in anticipation of what was to come?
Or would he use those long fingers to grip her hair and pull her to him?
It would take a simple, one word command and she would have happily crawled into his darkly covered lap.
As she thought about how she’d have straddled those widespread thighs of his, she parted her thighs under the thin sheet that was covering her.
She drew her fingers through her sex, feeling how wet she was, envisioning her fingers as his, circling her clit with one hand while the other lazily trailed her hips.
She thought about how he’d hold her close on his lap, safe and secure.
She ignored the bony outline of her hips, continuing her lazy trail over her stomach and stopped at her breasts.
She gave a firm squeeze to their softness and circled a nipple in time with the circling of her clit.
The sheet felt harsh against her sensitive skin, knowing if she was flush against his body, she’d feel the softest velvets and buttery silks.
A hitched breath left her as she sank a finger into herself.
It was a cold contrast to her warm and wet core.
She licked her lips as she thought about how it’d feel to have his cock inside her, filling her up in the most delicious way.
But she’d happily settle for his elegant fingers inside her, pumping in and out of her, like her fingers were doing right now.
She gave a small shudder at the thought of him finger fucking her.
Would she feel the cool bite of his jewelled rings stretching her further?
Or would he stop just shy of his rings going inside her, instead letting her wetness drip out and coat his priceless stones in her shine?
The idea of him doing either made her breathless.
She pushed two fingers inside of her heated centre. His fingers would be thicker than hers, perhaps two of his fingers would give her that pleasant stretch.
Being on his lap, she’d be close enough to see whether his eyes darkened or lightened with lust, with his uninterrupted view of her riding out her pleasure on his fingers.
She pinched her nipple as she flicked the pressure point at the apex of her thighs with her thumb, while her two fingers kept their rhythm.
Would he come from her rocking on his fingers while she ground against his erection, or would he wait? Right now, she wanted more than anything to find out what it felt like. She wanted to run her fingers through his dark hair, holding onto him as she came undone by his fingers alone.
Her fingers curled in the same motion that he’d used to demand her to go closer, as she admitted to herself that she wanted to be the centre of his world. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment, that was all she wanted, and it’d all be worth it.
That was the last thought she needed. Throwing her head back on a silent moan, sweet relief tore through her with a pleased sigh into the now silent house.
Something sharp grabbed at her. It was pushing and pulling her with claws.
Eleanor jerked awake, sucking in deep breaths as she blinked, taking in the small room through the darkness.
Not there.
A frozen breeze whispered through the cracked window and brushed against her exposed skin. It had stopped raining, yet dawn remained distant, according to the pitch black of the clouded night sky.
Sighing, Eleanor knew sleep would evade her for the rest of the night, regardless of how pleasurable she’d felt as she’d fallen asleep. She threw off the thin sheet, pausing as the book she’d been reading fell onto the wooden floor with a thump.
Satisfied that the noise hadn’t attracted attention in the silent house, Eleanor moved on light feet to the only other piece of furniture in her room: the closet.
Her fingers trailed over the wooden back panel of the closet, seeking the rough edge, and wiggled it loose.
A section of the back panel, no bigger than her forearm, came away, exposing the stone wall behind it.
Curling her fingers around a loose stone, she scraped it free.
After having quietly placed it aside, Eleanor reached into the hidden hole for the rolled-up bundle.
This was where Eleanor kept anything that she truly wanted to hide from prying eyes.
Under the floorboards or mattress were too obvious hidey-holes.
Those spots were where all the women stored their small trinkets or keepsakes, that they wanted to keep safe in their rooms. She used the already created hole in the floorboards by the bed as a place for any bottles of booze she managed to swipe or purchase.
It wouldn’t be a total loss if one of those bottles went missing.
However, this bundle was another matter entirely.
Under no circumstances was anyone getting their hands on what lay in these walls.
Eleanor unrolled the clothes, weapons, and boots on the bed and put on her old dark brown leathers, taking care to ensure the well-oiled dark buckles didn’t make a noise.
These predated her time at The Ladies Grace.
If Madam Grace had known she owned this outfit, she would have undoubtedly taken it from her as soon as she’d entered the madam’s domain.
These items represented another life, one that she’d hastily left, taking only what she could carry.
That place had been as close to a home as she’d felt in years, the people had been as close to family as she could have had, but it’d not been for her.
Like everything in her life, it had been safer for everyone if she’d left, so she’d done what she’d perfected; she disappeared.
From that point onwards, throughout everything that’d happened, including the fire and the sea, she still had this outfit.
The outfit, stained crimson and brown in places, looked as though it had absorbed the blood of countless battles, much like a suit of armour.
It was created with a sturdy plain dark brown leather that was so dark it could be mistaken for black.
Unfortunately, it had seen better days, but was a calming cool against her bare skin.
The plain and light trousers allowed for easy movement, with some patched-up holes from years past. Eleanor strapped her short Attarician blade onto her thigh and secured a longer knife in her boots, which couldn’t be repaired any more than they already had been.
The protective body armour was rigid yet flexible enough for her to move. Eleanor pulled the side straps of the full chest plate taut to her body, trying not to dwell on the straps gliding past the original timeworn holes, the buckles naturally reaching further for the smaller holes.
As she’d already polished off a bottle or two tonight, Eleanor dusted her fingers over the dark knives strapped to her thigh, hip, and those that were concealed in the layer of leather on her vambraces and leg braces.
Normally, she never needed to double check her blades.
Armouring herself was so ingrained, it was more of a reflex than a mere habit.
Two of her weapons had been forged and hammered by the prince’s own swordsmith, an old friend.
The hilt was laced in a dark metal that Attarician swords weren’t known for, but the refined design was distinctly Attarician.
Finishing her weapons check, her fingers felt the seams of her chest plate for two long, thin pieces of metal.
Eleanor tucked her auburn single braid under the dark cowl that covered her mouth and nose. Pulling down her cloak’s hood, she left only her eyes visible in the hood’s depths. Eleanor knew what her nocturnal version of herself looked like; a shadow haunting Breninsol’s backstreets.
As she slid open the window, she perched gracefully on the ledge, leaving the window slightly ajar, then silently dropped onto the backstreet next to The Ladies Grace, her well-practiced feet making no sound as she slipped away into the misty night.