Chapter 54
GRAESON
Graeson felt like he was floating but heavy at the same time as he looked down at Kalisandre, who lay asleep next to him. After he had finally gotten a taste of her, he was too wound up to sleep.
Kalisandre, on the other hand, had no issues falling asleep once Graeson had his way with her. But before she had succumbed to sleep's pull, she attempted to touch him, too. Graeson, however, only shook his head and pulled her close to his chest.
Tonight wasn't about him; it was about her.
She had made it very clear that she wasn't ready to accept the bond--if she ever was. And he could only torture himself so much without her being entirely his.
So that was that.
He didn't know how much time had passed since sleep had overtaken her, but he was perfectly content lying beside her.
Her chestnut-brown hair was spread across the pillow in waves. One long strand was strewn across her face, falling across her still swollen lips. With one hand bearing his weight, he gently brushed the strand away, unable to help himself, and pushed it behind her ear.
Her eyelashes fluttered across her sun-kissed cheeks as his thumb swept across her skin, but she did not wake. She only nestled closer, deeper beneath the blankets, with a small smile.
It was a stolen touch, but one Graeson would cherish. He knew this moment of bliss was fleeting, whether because of her imminent refusal of their bond or their inevitable return to Pontia. Across Vaneria, tensions were rising to extreme heights, and he doubted they would experience such serenity again.
So, like Kalisandre, he put off the concern about the future and focused entirely on the present.
He wanted to carve tonight into his memory, for he would never get over how she reacted to his touch. He was addicted to it. The little movements, the way her breath jumped, and the way she had bitten her plump bottom lip.
When his thumb hovered over her lips as he recalled the image of her biting them with her back arched, he saw red, the god within him begging to come out to play.
But for once, he didn't want to run away from it. He wasn't afraid of the god inside him, not with her. Never with her. Because with her, red was his favorite color.
Her passion matched his just as fervently.
As he laid back down and scooted closer to her, Graeson finally allowed himself to rest.
And maybe, just maybe, he could be fine with having this small piece of her. For however long they had. Because whatever this thing was between them, it was something he wanted to get lost in, something he would be happy to drown under.
A banging at the door woke Graeson up, and Kalisandre stirred beside him, mumbling something unintelligible as sleep still fogged her mind.
"Go back to sleep," Graeson whispered, tucking her back in. "I've got it."
He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and the moment he did it, he almost regretted it. She had been very clear earlier.
Tonight was supposed to mean nothing. Yet as he untangled himself from her limbs and she turned into his pillow, tucking it beneath her chin, he yearned to be right next to her.
But if another knock sounded before he could answer, there was no question she would wake up and run off the moment she had a chance. So, on soft feet, Graeson headed toward the door and cracked it open just enough to peer out.
A female guard stood outside, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Sir," the Tetrian guard said with a nod, "we have visitors."
"And?" Graeson asked, annoyed he had been woken up for this.
"Your presence has been requested in the throne room."
Graeson looked over his shoulder, where Kalisandre was still peacefully asleep.
"Whoever it is can wait until the morning," he said, closing the door.
The guard pressed a hand against the door, stopping it. "Sorry, sir, but this cannot wait until morning."
Graeson's jaw flexed. "I--"
"Kalisandre's presence has been requested as well," the woman said, cutting him off.
Graeson arched a brow. "How did you--" He began but was unable to finish the question.
The guard rolled her eyes. "The walls speak."
"The walls?"
The woman hummed, her cheeks flushing bright red in the torch's flickering light in her hand. "One of the guards saw her leave her room and come here."
Graeson rolled his eyes at the lack of privacy. "And this cannot wait?"
"No, sir."
He brushed a hand through his hair and sighed. "Very well. We'll be there in a moment."
With that, Graeson shut the door. As he padded back over to the bed, Kalisandre's eyes fluttered open.
Through a sleepy gaze, she asked, "Who was it?"
"A guard," he said as the bed sank beneath him slightly.
"What did they want?" Her voice was so soft and light that he did not wish to ruin it and admit that this bubble of theirs had officially burst.
"Our presence has been requested," Graeson said. "Apparently, we have visitors."
The sleep evaporated from Kalisandre's eyes in an instant as she stared up at him, processing his words.
"Did they say who?"
Graeson shook his head.
As the two looked at each other, an unspoken question hung between them. Because if they had not been expecting anyone but their presence had been requested, only a few options were feasible.