Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
I open my eyes to the light pouring through my window. I’m in my room. There’s no cold forest or turbulent rivers filled with red tides. A fluffy comforter is pulled up to my chin, and I’m burrowed into a couple of pillows.
A movement in the corner of the room draws my attention. Ambrose is hunched over in a chair next to my dresser, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Scarred knuckles push back the thick strands always falling into his eyes. He looks as if he has the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
I take a moment to stare at him, unabashedly.
Stubbles shadows his strong jaw. His mouth is set in a grim straight line, and his long legs are spread out in front of him. Both of his sleeves are rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms traced with thick veins and muscle.
He’s a masterpiece.
“It seems we’ve come full circle, ending up back in my room,” I say softly. I’m extremely parched, so the words come out a little scratchier than usual.
He drops his hands and jumps to his feet. “Nori,” he says, eyes widening. “You’re awake. You scared the shit out of me!” he adds in a rough voice, advancing on me.
I lick my lips. “What happened?”
“You passed out.”
“For how long?”
The bed dips as he sits on the edge. “Almost a full day. You’re lucky you didn’t get hypothermia. It was close,” he rasps, two lines forming between his brows.
“Have you been in that chair the entire time?” I ask.
“Where else would I be?” His eyes are bloodshot, and his hair looks like he’s been pulling at it all night.
I grab his hand and squeeze.
He brings it to his mouth, gently kissing my knuckles.
I sit further up.
“You should rest,” he orders, helping me adjust the pillows at my back.
“I think I’ve rested enough.”
He skims his hand down the side of my face, as if he’s reassuring himself I’m awake. That I’m okay. “Is there anything I can get you? Water? Another pair of socks?”
I wiggle my toes in the comfy socks and shake my head. I run my eyes over his body, the shirt pulling tightly at his muscular chest. “No, but I can think of something else,” I mutter softly. I’m either delirious or grew a backbone in that river.
“Nori…” he warns.
But for once, I don’t listen. I’m tired of playing it safe. Kingston was right. I’m entitled to be exactly what I was made to be. And currently, if all goes according to my plan, that’s underneath Ambrose.
Without allowing myself time to second-guess this, I reach up and pull his face down to mine, crushing my lips into his.
He doesn’t pull away, but he also doesn’t deepen the kiss.
I slide my tongue along the edges of his lips, teasing and tasting.
He lets out a low moan but holds steady in not reciprocating.
The need to feel his weight on top of me is overbearing.
Suffocating in its intensity. I grip the front of his shirt and pull him down on the bed with me.
He braces an arm on the side of my head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush me with his full weight.
I want it, though. I want to be pressed into this mattress under him.
My fingers sink into his shoulder, urging him closer. His other hand sinks into my hair, and his knee goes between my thighs. His restraint is slipping.
I arch up, begging for more. He growls low in his throat and finally, finally deepens the kiss.
My fingers curl into the sheets. Our tongues worship each other.
The warmth of his hand settles over my stomach as he slowly works his way up, pushing my shirt up and over my breasts.
Cold air caresses the peaks before he drags his mouth from mine and works his way down my neck toward my chest. His lips sink over my nipple, pulling it into his mouth.
I grip his hair and cry out as he bites down.
He quickly licks and sucks it, soothing the sting.
The balance between pleasure and pain is exquisite. I can feel the moisture gathering between my legs. I want more. I want Ambrose to show me everything I’ve been missing all these years while I’ve been waiting. For him. Show me the things he’s learned and save it all for me from now on.
He raises his head and moves to the other breast, giving it equal attention.
Slowly, while continuing to lavish my nipple, he slides a calloused hand up my thigh.
His deft fingers leave a trail of fire in their wake.
The sensations are too much and not enough.
A moan tears from my lips when he bites down before flicking his tongue over the peak.
I tilt his head slightly and press him down harder.
I need more.
His hand reaches my panties, his fingers trailing over the simple cotton. I know they are soaked. Embarrassingly so. The palm of his hand presses into my mound, rubbing the fabric through the moisture.
A breath whooshes out of me.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
Ambrose Ballard is touching me.
His hand is right there.
I could break just from the thought alone.
The skies darken and lightning cracks outside the window, but it’s nothing compared to the untamed electricity in this room.
I raise my hips, asking for more. I need this like I need the breath in my lungs.
Cold air caresses the puckered peak where his mouth just was as Ambrose crashes his mouth over mine.
The kiss is laced with urgency and years of restraint.
Our tongues dominate each other. I press my knees together, seeking some kind of release as his hand continues to rub over my wet entrance.
He removes his hand from between my thighs and pushes my legs back open. Moving back to my panties, he pushes them to the side and slides a finger through the slick folds.
I moan into his mouth, my fingers digging into his arms.
“Fuck, Nori,” he rasps into my mouth.
His mouth lowers to my shoulder, biting down—hard.
Without warning, he sinks a long finger into my entrance.
I throw my head back and cry out as he gently moves it back and forth, giving me time to get used to the invasion.
“You’re so tight—fuck,” he growls into my skin.
“Tell me I’m your first,” he says, low in his throat.
I whimper. “You’re my first.”
“No one’s ever touched you like this?”
I shake my head. Words evade me.
He pumps his finger in and out of me, increasing the speed. He pulls it out and thrusts it all the way back in. He brings me to the brink before pulling back again.
“Please, Ambrose,” I beg.
“Say you’re mine,” he orders, his glacial eyes staring into mine.
I’m on the edge, so close.
“I’m yours, Ambrose. I’ve always only ever been yours,” I sob, thrashing my head into the pillow.
He curls his finger, and I come undone.
“Oh my God,” I cry out.
“That’s it, baby. Give me everything.”
I ride out the rest of the orgasm with his hand buried between my thighs.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathes, his face hovering above mine.
I reach up and run my tongue along his lips. “We have to do that again.”
He laughs and rises from the bed, pulling the cover back up to my chin. “We’re just getting started.”
My lips turn down in a pout. “You’re leaving?”
Leaning down, he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. “I have to go, and you need to rest. But I’ll see you this evening at dinner.”
“Okay.”
The room already feels empty as I watch him walk to the door.
He looks over his shoulder, a smirk playing along his lips before he brings his finger, the one that was just buried between my thighs, to his mouth.
I hold his stare and can feel my jaw slightly drop open as he pushes it between his lips, sucking off all my juices.
“Delicious,” he says, before opening the door and walking out.
Holy shit.
A squeal breaks free as I jump out of the bed.
Dancing around the room, excitement over taking me, I feel lighter than I have in ages. Things are finally starting to look up. I feel invincible. The floor is cold on my knees as I reach under my bed and pull out the little silver book. It fits perfectly in my hand as I crack it open.
I jump back on my bed, reaching over to retrieve my dagger from the nightstand, before I remember that Kingston threw it in the woods.
Prick.
I need something to slice my finger with.
Without an offering, these pages will remain blank.
With a glance around the room, I don’t see many options.
Using my fingernails, I chip off a small piece of a wood splinter from the bed frame and press it into the tip of my finger.
Hard. Blood drips onto the parchment, sinking into the spine.
Hello, Liminal.
The dark letters float across the page.
I shift back in the bed, putting the book in my lap. “Hello…I don’t really know what to call you. Silver? Unless you have another name?”
The letters retreat before reappearing.
The name I have is not part of your language. You can refer to me with your chosen name.
Okay. Silver it is. “Tell me something I don’t know, Silver.
Something I don’t but should.” I’m feeling so happy right now that I’m just in the mood to talk.
I can’t help but smile when I think of what just happened.
For some reason, I don’t feel I can discuss this with Mallory or Finnley.
It’s as if speaking it aloud with a real person will dim the magic.
The words drift from the page as if caught on a warm summer breeze.
You should not be broken.
You are made to mend.
The things you should know but do not would decimate you.
I frown and sit up a little straighter. “Okay. That’s only slightly ominous,” I mumble sarcastically. “Tell me what I should know, and I’ll worry about it breaking me.”
Words claw their way across the page.
Things that have long been buried. Secrets stowed beneath layers of falsehood.