Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“The foolish man ends the lives of his opponents. The wise man controls them.”
The night Dahlia had been humbled, I woke up in the estate of House Viper, in my own bed, confused and with a pounding headache.
I had just enough time to remember being knocked unconscious when Cosmo emerged from a dark corner of my room, telling me I had no right to attempt to circumvent justice and informing me that I would likely have been stripped of my ring myself for my outburst if I weren’t a candidate with such lofty connections.
Bria came after him, trying to coax me out of my room, out of my anger. But she offered nothing but religious platitudes, and I was weary of the Geist, so I shut her out and pushed aside the dinner she’d brought as the only peace offering the House of Viper was willing to extend.
I left the estate that night, too angry with all of them. I made my way back to my apartment and into my bedroom. Harrison didn’t say a word when I slammed my door shut and didn’t emerge.
I didn’t leave my room for a week, just stewing in my anger, my righteous fury, raging at the world for what it was and who it hurt.
At first, I blamed Cosmo. I’d begged him for mercy, and he’d ignored me.
Then I blamed Dante for not stopping him.
Then I blamed Warren for not being there to stop Dahlia.
Then Cyrus for plaguing her mind as he had.
But in truth, I blamed everyone except for the one who’d confessed, the one who had actually committed the murder.
I blamed everyone but Dahlia because I wasn’t certain I wouldn’t have done the same thing in her place. And that terrified me more than anything in the Trials ever had.
The evening of the eighth day after the tribunal, I needed an escape, something to take all of my pent-up frustration out on.
I returned to the First Ring and found Dante sparring in the yard, alone.
I picked up a sword, and he reached for one of his own, a silent sign of understanding.
We fought, twirling around each other gracefully now that I’d had proper training, no sound in the courtyard but the clang of metal and the grunts of two fighters, each determined to win the battle.
I pushed harder than I ever had, putting every bit of the anger, sorrow, and suffering behind each blow. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on Dante’s brow. Finally, he called it, holding up his hands to signify he needed a break. I dropped my weapon and, panting, looked up at him.
“Maybe sparring isn’t what you need right now,” he said after catching his breath.
I huffed. “And I suppose you know what I need?”
He shook his head. “No. But I’m tired.”
Despite my anger, I grinned. He grinned back at me.
“You said her punishment wasn’t fair,” I reminded him, still trying to catch my breath as I stood back up and narrowed my gaze to meet his.
“If that were me in that bed, unable to move, unable to speak, and there wasn’t a chance I would again, I’d want you to end it.” He said it simply, with such finality, but his keen green eyes darkened at the weight of it anyway.
A sharp stab of pain sliced through my chest. I shook my head, turning away. I couldn’t think about that. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to feel what I felt when I thought about that. I wanted to feel anything else.
“You were right,” I told him.
He cocked his head to the side.
“I don’t need to spar.”
Then I turned back and crossed the dirt between us in a few long strides.
His blade clanged against stone as I slammed into him, fusing my lips to his.
His arms came around me in an instant, hands locking on my waist and holding me flush against him.
I deepened the kiss, pushing him back a step with my hands on his chest. He pulled away and looked down into my eyes, reading my expression easily.
“Let’s find somewhere a little more private, yeah?” he asked, taking a step back and holding out a hand.
I grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”
I took his hand and he pulled me out of the yard toward the nearest door. It was a small, forgotten stone entryway past the library. I’d only ever seen acolytes entering that way before but Dante pulled me through it now.
The gray sky was gone in an instant, replaced by a stale, dimly lit room full of dusty old books too useless to adorn the library shelves.
A few wooden desks were scattered around the space.
Most of them were cluttered with open scrolls and ink pens.
Some had glass jars containing things I didn’t look too closely at.
Dante picked the nearest one and tossed all the papers and writing instruments to the floor.
Then he lifted me by the waist and settled me onto it.
I bit my lip as his gleaming green eyes met mine.
His gave me a lopsided smirk, then leaned forward and gripped the back of my head with one hand, pressing his mouth to mine as his other hand went straight to work on the button of my jeans.
Breathless and flushed, I reached for his waistband as well.
He groaned when my fingers slipped beneath it, pulling downward.
I grazed his hard length pressing intently against his zipper and he hissed in a breath.
“By the Geist,” he growled.
I thought I heard the sound of ripping denim as my pants flew from my legs, slapping against the ground somewhere among the books.
With a wicked grin, I popped his own button.
His lips were on mine again as he stepped out of his pants and tossed them aside too.
We separated from each other long enough to rip our shirts off over our heads, removing underwear too, and I reached for him as we crashed back together.
I rubbed him once and he moaned against my mouth.
He reached for me then but I backed away, leaning further from him on the desk and raising my leg.
I placed my foot on his shoulder, and his brow quirked up as he glanced at my leg, now at eye level.
He reached up and ran a hand from my knee to my heel.
My flesh tingled from his touch as he planted a kiss on the inside of my ankle.
I pushed him back with the foot he held.
He stepped back at my insistence, the backs of his knees hitting the chair beside the desk.
I pushed harder with my foot and he collapsed into the seat, completely naked and raising a brow at me in question.
I stood from the desk and circled him, grinning down as I did.
I reached out and touched the broad planes of his chest, running my fingers over his muscular arms and twisting them in his dark hair.
He closed his eyes, lips parted, as I pulled on the deep black locks so that his head dropped back.
I leaned down and captured his open mouth with mine, pressing my tongue into his throat and exploring the sensation of the heat coursing through his body.
“Adrian,” he groaned my name when I pulled away, circling back around the chair until I was standing in front of him.
His green eyes were hooded, darkened with desire.
The muscles in his forearms were taut as he gripped the edges of his chair, keeping his impulse to reach for me in check.
I was in charge here. He wanted me to know it.
I stepped toward him and shook my head so my hair fell back behind me.
I reached out and placed my hands on his shoulders, gripping him as I lowered myself onto his lap.
He twitched the moment he found himself poised at my entrance, legs spasming between my thighs, tendons in his neck tensing. I smiled, hovering there for a moment.
Geist, Adrian. He cursed in my mind. If you don’t start riding me in the next ten seconds, I swear to all the gods—
He growled when I dropped, hands shooting up to grip my hips as I let him fill me entirely.
I waited a moment to adjust to his length and then began moving.
I wasn’t gentle, but he hadn’t expected me to be.
That’s what this whole thing was about. I didn’t need to spar but I was frustrated. So we’d work that out another way.
My nails dug into his shoulders as I rotated my hips, rolling forward again and again.
I threw my head back with a gasp, letting my hair spill out behind me and brush against my bare back as I pushed onto him again and again, harder and harder.
The chair legs scraped roughly against the stone in time with our grunts and moans as I closed my eyes and chased the pleasure building in my core.
He pressed one palm against my back, urging me on, and fisted my hair in another. He groaned against my breast and the pressure deep inside me rose higher.
Almost. Almost.
He let go of my hair and grabbed my hips, hard. Fingers digging into my flesh, he slammed me down onto him, thrusting up at the same time.
My vision exploded in shimmering stars and endless galaxies.
I cried out, slumping forward, breathless, as he let out a guttural groan and joined me in oblivion.
We remained there for a moment, together on the chair, trying to catch our breaths.
Then Dante raised my head and pressed a kiss to my lips and I rose, going off in search of my clothes.
I slid my underwear and shirt on and bent for my jeans as I heard Dante fastening his zipper behind me.
I inspected the pants for the rip I knew I’d heard and frowned when I found the button completely torn away.
I turned with a sigh, holding up the ruined jeans. Dante chuckled and approached, taking the pants from my hands and setting them down on a shelf at my back.
“I’ll get you new ones,” he said.
Then he gripped me by the back of the head and pressed his lips against mine again.
“Oh!” Someone squeaked.
Dante and I broke apart long enough to see who was interrupting us.