Chapter Twenty-Six
KILLIAN’S BODY BURNED, the heat pooled in his stomach, hot and heavy and wanton with desire. The sounds of panting and the slap of skin on skin filled the room, echoing loudly in the thick silence.
Loran whined and dropped his forehead to the mattress, his hands fisted tight in the sheets as he pushed back against Killian, welcoming him deep into his body.
It was a dance they were both familiar with.
Killian had been surprised when Loran approached him in the middle of the hall, in the middle of the feast, moseying closer and whispering a secret invitation. He’d been hesitant to accept, unsure, a feeling he’d never experienced with Loran before.
It had been weeks, months even, since the last time Killian had been with Loran. They were too busy during the months leading up to the festivities. Or that was the excuse he gave.
The truth was that it felt wrong to even think of anyone else when Kade was so close. Though that held a wrongness in itself. Kade wasn’t for Killian, and he never would be. The sooner Killian came to terms with that, the sooner he could let go, he could move on—or at least pretend to.
So when Loran came calling this time, Killian accepted, and he prayed to every god he could think of that this would help him get his mind right about Kade.
The lingering effects of the alcohol made Killian feel heady, euphoric. Raising one leg, the other knee still firmly planted on the mattress, Killian’s hands raked down sweat soaked skin to splay across Loran’s spine, curling around his waist.
Loran gasped, the arch of his back deepening as Killian pulled him back onto his cock in hard, heavy thrusts.
Killian threw his head back and groaned. Loran’s body felt amazing, he always did, but this time was different. He was warm and wet and accepting and somehow…not enough.
Chasing a release that wouldn’t come, Killian ground his hips into the plush of Loran’s ass, searching, seeking a pleasure that would break them both.
Cursing himself, Killian looked down at Loran, at his flaxen hair and tight muscles rolling under tanned skin, and he let it all fade into fantasy. From that moment, it wasn’t Loran under him, it was Kade.
That was all it took.
A new wave of pleasure rolled through Killian’s body, stronger and hungrier than before.
Taking one of Loran’s arms, Killian wretched the other elf back as he pushed harder. Each stroke had Loran mewling, his mouth open as he panted.
“So good,” Killian growled through gritted teeth, “So fucking good.”
Hooking his chin over Loran’s shoulder, Killian watched, entranced as Loran stroked himself, pushing closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it,” Killian whispered, licking up the column of Loran’s neck. “Just like that.”
Loran cursed, his body shaking. His hole fluttered and clenched as he came undone seated to the base of Killian’s cock.
Collapsing forward onto his forearms, Loran twitched and quivered, overwhelmed, as Killian continued to move inside his body, chasing his own release. Loran tight around his cock and Kade in his head, Killian teetered on the edge. So, so close.
It slipped out before he could stop it. A name. Just a whisper. “Fuck. Kade.” And Killian’s body burned white hot with pleasure as he came undone. A manic grin on his face, Killian pulled out, stoking furiously until he came, shooting his release over Loran’s lower back.
Closing his eyes, Killian took a moment to recover. He was sure he’d blacked out for a moment, the pleasure too much, too intense. So all consuming that he didn’t realize his mistake at first.
“What did you say?”
Killian panted and rolled over onto his side. “What?”
“I thought I heard you say something.”
Shit. “No. No, I didn’t say anything.”
Loran sat up, shrugging. He rolled his neck, a soft, sated smile on his face. “We should get back before we’re missed.”
Killian only nodded. He watched as Loran stood and began collecting his clothes.
A pit of guilt sat solid in Killian’s stomach. What he’d just done wasn’t fair to Loran, or to Kade, but he couldn’t honestly say it would be the last time he did it, and that killed him.
Fyar tracked Killian with his eyes as he slunk through the shadows back to his post, a slight smirk on his face the entire time.
“Don’t,” grumbled Killian.
“Your hair is wet. Is it raining?” Fyar asked. He sniffed the air. “No, it can’t be. No rain I’ve ever encountered smells like rose scented soap.”
Killian blinked down at the king, who blinked up at him in return.
“Shut up,” said Killian. “I spilled something on myself.”
“Oh,” Fyar laughed, winking. “I’m sure you did.”
Killian choked.
Flushing, Killian turned away and pretended to scan the room.
It was early, the night still young, and the party was in full swing.
Elves swayed on the dance floor and lounged on settees, all while gorging on truly horrific amounts of alcohol.
Many wouldn’t leave this hall for another three days, until they were forced to.
The dark navy uniforms of the healer’s apprentices were easy to spot amongst the light and bright colors of the aristocracy. Killian counted six—excluding Porthos—but that was wrong.
One was missing. The most important one.
Killian went over every face in the hall twice and Kade was still nowhere to be found.