Chapter 33 Kailia #3
Tossing the knife onto the dresser, she went back out to the bedchamber. Cethin had lost his jacket and boots and was working the buttons of his shirt when he went utterly still.
“This is your shirt,” she said, plucking at the tunic.
He nodded, gaze dragging down her body in a way that somehow made her feel like he was peeling the garment off her.
“I’m aware of that, wife,” he said, his voice harsh and raspy.
“Do you not want me wearing it?”
“I definitely want you wearing it.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
He abandoned the buttons, prowling towards her, but he stilled once more when she took several steps back, the backs of her knees bumping into the bed. His hands curled into fists, but he didn’t come any closer.
“How am I looking at you?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, studying him. Something feral and needy on his features. Something hungry and wanting glimmering in his eyes, but there was no dark magic in them. Only bright silver irises. “You used a lot of power tonight.”
“Not what I want to talk about right now,” he said, the words laced with a growl.
“I don’t want to talk either,” she admitted, trying to keep from bouncing on her toes. Her heart was beating at a weird rhythm. “We should go for a walk. Or a hunt.”
He blinked at her, some of that hunger flickering into confusion. “You want to go on a hunt? Right now?”
“Yes,” she affirmed.
“You’re not dressed for a hunt.”
She looked down, forgetting she’d changed clothes. It suddenly seemed like a lot of work to change yet again, but she couldn’t sit in here all night.
“Then let’s go help downstairs,” she finally said.
“Again, not dressed for that occasion,” Cethin replied.
“Cethin, I need to do something,” she said in frustration, shaking out her hands. “Just…something.”
“You’re restless,” he said, understanding filling his features. “You’re high off the fight.”
“Yes. No. I think… I think it’s everything. The entire night,” she said, wanting to pace or move but forcing her feet to stay planted.
“I understand,” he said, finishing undoing his shirt buttons while he kept his eyes on her. “I can help. If you’ll let me.”
“How?”
“I’ve felt the same after high stakes battles. Your body is still on edge from the stress of fighting. Your nerves are heightened, and you need to release the pent up energy,” he said, sliding his shirt down his arms.
“Yes, all of that,” she murmured, watching the muscles in his arms bunch and flex with the movements.
He nodded. “And in the past, you’ve…done what?”
She didn’t answer, because how was she supposed to tell him she’d lose herself to her magic for hours, letting herself drift among ashes as the wind carried her wherever it willed until she felt like herself again? If she did that, she’d have to explain why that wasn’t an option.
“What have you done in the past that worked?” she asked instead, watching deft fingers work his belt free and slide it from his waist.
He tossed it aside with the shirt. “There were several options. Sparring in the training arena with one of the Cadre. Finding a liquor bottle.” The heat was back in his eyes when he added, “Bringing someone to my bed.”
She tsked. “Fucking won’t help.”
“Another statement that has me questioning your experience with such things,” he said knowingly. “That kind of release absolutely helps.”
“I’ll opt for the liquor bottle rather than roaming hands,” she retorted.
“I wouldn’t even need my hands. I wouldn’t have to touch you at all.”
“What?” she asked before she could stop herself, because surely not…
His lips lifted, curling into something full of dark promises. “Curious, wife?”
“Yes,” she replied in genuine perplexity.
He barked a laugh, but his eyes darkened a shade. “You have to do exactly as I say,” he said, the words somehow both a command and a warning.
The idea of giving up that control, of someone else having control over her, had her shaking her head, her heart racing even more.
“You can stop at any time, Kailia,” he said, concern flickering among the heat and desire in his eyes. “I’m— I’ll stay over here the entire time. I swear it.”
Worrying her bottom lip, his gaze shot to the movement.
His tongue darted out, and he shifted in place, but his feet stayed rooted to the spot.
She shook out her hands again, feeling like she was going to do something incredibly brash any minute.
Something that would undo everything she’d been carefully building.
She was desperate, and he looked desperate.
Desperate to help her or desperate for her, she didn’t know.
Because the only experience she had with fucking was because she’d been curious what all the fuss was about.
It was never something she’d ever had any desire to do again, but if he wasn’t going to touch her then…
And what if this was like the kiss? Something unexpectedly wanted?
“You’re thinking too hard, tiny fiend,” he said. “Do you need a vow? A bargain? Let me show you. Let me— Just let me.”
Again, she had this odd feeling. The same feeling she’d had when he’d been on his knees and she’d been in a tub. Only this time a king was begging, not to touch her or for her to touch him, but to…what?
“You’ll stay over there?” she asked, shaking her hands out again before fisting the soft fabric draped around her.
“I won’t come any closer. I swear it. And if you want to stop, we stop,” he coaxed.
A few seconds passed, the air heavy with tension and anticipation.
Finally, she nodded, and there was a flash of relief in Cethin’s eyes before it flickered back to something darker and sinful and eager.
Because suddenly the restless wild thing she was feeling inside?
He was displaying it on the outside with dilated pupils and a vibrating energy that had him constantly shifting in place.
“Climb onto the bed, wife.”
She frowned. She needed to move, not sit. “How is that going to—”
“Kailia.” Her name was a growl that she felt all the way down to her toes.
Already backed up to the bed, she pushed onto her toes until she could slide up onto it. Then she stared at him, still not convinced this was going to do anything.
“What now?”
“I’m conflicted because seeing you in my shirt is making me feel all sorts of ways, but I also need you to take it off,” he answered.
“What?” she asked, looking down at the tunic and smoothing her hands over it.
“Take it off, Kailia,” he repeated, his tongue running across his lower lip again. “Unless we’re stopping?”
“No,” she answered, because she was more than curious and him watching her was making something warm in her belly.
Reaching for the hem, she pulled it over her head, leaving herself bare before him.
Nudity was nudity. This didn’t bother her.
But hearing the rumble that sounded from the male across the room, it affected him.
His teeth raked over his lip this time, and his head tilted as he shifted on his feet again.
“Fuck. This was simultaneously the best idea I’ve ever had and the worst,” Cethin muttered, swiping a hand over his mouth.
His eyes darted from her chest to her face and back to her breasts, his hands fisting at his sides now, and how could he make her feel…
whatever this was just from him looking at her?
“That is a confusing statement,” she murmured, her voice breathy.
“Well aware.”
“What next?” she asked.
Somehow this was working. Somehow, he was distracting her from the anxious thing that needed out in the same way he’d distracted her during their initial dance tonight.
“I want to kiss you,” he breathed, his hands fisted at his sides so tightly his knuckles were white even against his pale skin.
But his words made her remember the feel of his mouth on hers, soft and hungry. Unconsciously, she brought her fingers to her lips. “I think I want that too,” she replied softly.
The sound that came from Cethin sounded pained, but he said, “I know you do, but I swore to stay over here. I keep my promises, wife.”
“Okay,” she whispered, finding herself disappointed in that answer.
“I can’t touch you, so I need you to do it,” he continued.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, the agony gone, replaced with that icy darkness. “Start at your throat and drag your fingers down.”
This felt like too much. Awkward and exposed, but he was watching her, eager and needy.
There was a power here that she hadn’t expected.
The same power she’d recognized that day in the tub, and she liked control.
He might be telling her what to do, but the knowledge that she was in control had her bringing her fingers to her neck.
Brushing them along her throat. Dragging them along her collarbone. Holding his stare.
The restlessness in her soul was shifting. Gooseflesh popped up under the touch, her nerve endings hyperaware to every sense right now.
“Don’t touch your breasts. Go between them,” he ordered when she started dragging her fingers down her chest.
The idea of anyone giving her orders like this should irritate her, but it didn’t. Instead, she was dragging her fingers through the valley of her breasts, watching him watching her.
“Keep going,” he growled as she made her way down to her navel. But when she paused above the apex of her thighs, he said, “More.”
One word.
One word that she felt in her soul, her core clenching, and gods. How?
“Kailia, don’t make me say it again. Move your fingers,” he said with a snarl. His feet were still planted, but he was leaning forward, straining to see. The position had the muscles in his abdomen tensed and flexing.
Slowly, she moved her fingers again. Lower and lower until she could press them between her legs.
Her hips lifted, and a surprised gasp came from her.
How was she this sensitive from nothing but the brush of her own fingers?
What would it feel like if they were his? Would his hands be like his lips?