15. Hector

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HECTOR

I 'd cloistered myself up for the evening when there was a knock on my door, and while I wished I could ignore it, I couldn't stand to leave someone waiting when they knew I was there. Where else would I go? The whole palace and its surrounds were foreign to me, and in trying not to step on any toes, it was easier to hide away.

Though my shirt was loose, my jacket abandoned, I didn't bother righting myself before I opened the door, and there was my leader, a clever smile on his face.

"You have to eat," Killian said, lifting the plate between us with a smile.

I scowled, crossing my arms. "You have better things to do than bring me supper."

Killian's lips screwed up like he was considering it. "Given that everyone here needs sustenance, I'm not sure I do."

"But are you sure you don't?" All right, perhaps I was digging my heels in, but it was silly. No doubt there were many in the Crane Clan who went without a meal without having one hand delivered by Killian himself.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Just fucking eat."

He shouldered past me into the room and set the plate on a small table in front of the fire, going so far as to shift the whole thing over in front of the wing-backed chair.

I lingered there in the door for a moment, but when Killian flopped into the chair opposite mine, I had to admit defeat. He wasn't going to leave, so I shut the door and joined him.

He wanted to see me eat? Fine. I'd clear the plate and be done with him and back to my sulking in no time.

Though I was determined to give him nothing while I ate, Killian broke the silence first. "Why didn't you come to supper?"

I sighed, taking another bite of my food. If I took a bit longer to thoroughly chew than I needed, well, I was trying to pull my thoughts together.

"I'm in a sour mood and didn't want it to infect anyone else."

Killian only hummed. I didn't like the way he looked at me then. He was sizing me up.

"I thought Nemedans preferred to show their feelings?" I snipped.

"We do."

"So mine should be no issue."

"They aren't."

Silence fell between us again, but my skin began to heat. I was angry and I didn't know why. Because he was there, watching me? Well, that was irksome enough. But there was something else that made my face so hot, and I despised it.

"Abram said you did well today." Killian tilted his head to the side to try and catch my eye. "He appreciated the extra set of hands."

I huffed.

"Is that the cause of your sourness?" Killian pressed. "Do you not like the work?"

"I like the work."

"Is it Abram then?"

"Of course not!"

Killian arched a brow.

"Abram and I get along just fine. We're suited to working together." That, at least, was true, in so much as I could guess after a single day. Abram had a refreshing sort of frankness that didn't leave me wondering what I had to do, didn't make me guess how I could best serve his vision, but he lacked Killian's grating bluntness. "I think he could teach me a lot about his craft."

"So, I'm failing to see the problem that's plaguing you so."

I wanted to laugh. It had to be apparent that the problem in every instance was me .

"How will I ever prove my strength if you will not let me?"

"Hector, there's nothing you need to prove?—"

"I must prove it to myself!" I leaned forward, shoving the small side table out of the way. "It is not about how you see me. I must see for myself that I am not a—" A failure .

I couldn't say the words, couldn't sit before this man who held all of Nemeda on his shoulders, and come up so wanting.

I grimaced, looking down at my empty hands and feeling more impotent than I ever had.

Killian didn't rise from his seat, so much as slid out of it. One fluid move, and he was kneeling in front of me. Only from that angle could he have seen my face, and even then, I wanted to turn from him.

He gripped my legs, his long fingers curling around the backs of my knees. "It is not about your strength."

My throat was so tight that my voice came out in a raspy whisper. "Then why?"

Killian's gaze caught mine, fiery and intense. And still, he didn't open his mouth to speak, like he couldn't bear to say what he meant either.

Instead, his hands slipped up the tops of my thighs. My breath caught, but I did not stop him. Oh no, I only sank deeper into the chair, spread my legs just enough to make room for him to move between them.

My heart was pounding, my thoughts skewed, as he went for the ties of my breeches. I helped shimmy them down once they were loose, and he stared at me like perhaps he didn't think I was entirely a waste after all.

I looked down into Killian's eyes as his slick pink tongue darted out and flicked the tip of my cock. It was the tiniest taste, and still I bucked toward his lips, desperate for more.

With a smirk, he held my eye as he leaned in, his soft lips parted, sliding so sweetly over the head of my cock, sucking lightly before pulling back and lavishing me with a swirl of his clever tongue.

I gasped, gripping the chair as I watched him. Every move he made was so bold, so sure. I'd been with men before. In Urial, it wasn't uncommon for men to find their ways into each other's beds, but it was seen as nothing more than a dalliance, a youthful jest, something to laugh at and cringe from later.

Certainly, I myself had assumed I would settle with a woman, though I was more flexible in my preferences than Paris had been, and my heart had ached for him when he'd been trapped in Urial and in love with a man who didn't deserve him.

But no man had ever stared at me so ardently as he teased my shaft with tiny kisses. Gods, Killian moved too slow.

"Should I stop?" he asked, his silvery lashes fluttering as he stared up at me. His eyes were strangely dark, his pupils blown wide.

Gods be good, I hoped I wasn't the only one wanting. If this was all to console me in my pitifulness, I'd never recover.

"Don't," I hissed. "Please don't."

Needing no further direction than that, he slid his hand up my stomach and spread his fingers wide. Even they were strong, like with one digit alone, he could pin me to the chair and do as he liked.

Bless everything holy, what he liked seemed to be driving me to madness. He sank down on my cock, swallowing roughly when it hit the soft palette of his mouth.

I cried out, and he pulled back. Sucked me in again. Deeper now.

My toes curled in my boots and—and I couldn't help be watch him, rapt. I wanted to?—

There was so much I wanted to do with him, but right then, what I wanted most was to touch him and feel that this was real.

My breath came sharp and quick as I reached out, spreading my fingers wide to comb through his hair. It was so much softer than I'd imagined, but heavier too, dense with feathers of his fallen.

His eyelids fluttered and he looked at me again and, I swear, my heart jumped in my chest. Surely this meant something. He saw me as I saw him. Wanted me as I wanted him.

How could he look at me like that otherwise?

When he hummed, I felt the vibration in my balls. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, shut my eyes, and let the soft heat of his mouth carry me on a warm summer's wind until?—

"Oh—" I gasped. "Oh fuck . . . "

My fingers tightened in his hair, my balls drew up tight, and I came. Pleasure zipped through me like lightning, and I sank into the chair, messy and sated and happy.

Before I'd thought a single thing, I surged forward, folding in half and cupping the back of his head and there —there were his lips, slick and salty and bitter and mine.

I was flushed, dizzy, and ravenous. If he would just grin at me like I wanted him to—that sharp, challenging flash of teeth—and tell me to take him, to give myself over...

Gods, I did not care, I just wanted more.

Even then, I had to know I wouldn't get it.

All it took was a palm pressed against my chest, gentle but steady all the same, and I made a sharp sound of protest. I tried to hold him as he eased me back, and when my thoughts cleared enough to realize he was pushing me away, my arms went slack. I fell into the chair and stared at him.

"I can't risk you," Killian said, his eyes gently shut while I gaped at him.

He couldn't mean it.

But he—he did . There was no doubt when he took a deep breath, set his shoulders back, and opened his eyes again. This time, they were shuttered. He'd thrown up iron walls between us and I?—

I was finished. Had I the strength to scale those walls, I didn't have the heart.

"Get out," I rasped.

He blinked. "What?"

"I will not be tended to while held forever apart. I may not be Nemedan enough for your wall or your bed, but I am man enough to draw the line somewhere, and my pride will not allow it."

"It's really not?—"

"I said get out!" My hands tightened on the arms of my chair, turning white and starting to ache as I set my glare on the fire.

He stayed there, trapped at the corner of my vision, long enough that my breath began to jump in my chest.

Then, the shadow of him moved, my door opened, and I was alone again.