Chapter 42

42

LECTURE NOTES FROM THE ART OF BLACKSMITHING III:

In simple terms, sharpen your dagger or fail .

S oren shifted to his side, facing her. “Good morning, my love.”

The edges of Thessa’s mouth curled hearing the last two words. “When did I fall asleep?”

Rubbing his face, he said, “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He scanned her. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, considering.” She sat up and lifted her skirt to inspect her wound. The edges were coming together, and it no longer throbbed. It wasn’t warm to the touch either.

“Morning, is Thessa in there?” Sila’s voice sounded from outside, startling them both to their feet.

“Hi, Sila!”

Sila popped her head in. “I tried your tent first, I should’ve known.”

Thessa’s cheeks flushed.

“I wanted to make sure you had something clean to wear.” She set a pile of clothing down on the floor. “I’ll leave these here.”

“Thank you, for everything.” Thessa meant it. To be taken care of, so kindly, was something she’d never forget.

Sila nodded. “No trouble at all. I’ll see you both at The Burn.” And as quickly as Sila had come, she left.

Thessa eyed Soren and asked, “The Burn?”

“That’s just what we call it. Burning everything before we leave symbolizes our resilience to rebuild. It’s a bit celebratory.”

“Got it. Should we pack?”

“No. I’ll arrange to have our tents sorted.”

Thessa reached for the bundle Sila had left her. It was a cream tunic and riding leathers, which wasn’t Sila’s typical fun and flirty attire, but Thessa knew why. Today marked the precipice of change. Her blood usually thrummed at times like this, but today it didn’t. She’d slept well.

After dressing, she tucked the book under her arm and asked, “What else do we need?”

“Nothing. The carriages will be stocked.”

When they arrived at the burn site the cooks were passing around oats that had soaked overnight. They were surprisingly pleasant when topped with honey. Hades would love it, that was for certain.

Soren helped chuck a few stumps into the massive pile of wood furnishings. Children ran around the emptied campsite in circles, while hundreds gathered around the pile, strapped in burlap sacks.

Sila passed copies of Eiliana’s Illusion Spell through the crowd, and Jussal gave a quick speech reviewing their two-day route. Afterwards, Francis and a few other Elementals torched the pile.

The flames were mighty, and hot. Thessa shoved the grimoire and oats into Soren’s chest, and said, “Find somewhere to put these.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“We want the spell to work, don’t we?”

His eyes softened.

Last night Thessa had told Soren she was not a fighter. She believed her purpose was to work toward a possible agreement. He’d not argued with her, only issued a small warning that they were long past agreements, and followed it up with a kiss for encouragement.

Thessa paced toward the flames, standing beside Francis.

When it all was well and burned, she held out her arms, nodding to the Elementals to step back.

Jussal was salivating as he called out, “Everyone, give her space.”

Whispers rippled through the shifting crowd.

What is she doing?

That’s the one the general keeps.

The fire-snuffer.

Do you think it’s true?

I hear she’s injured.

Dark tendrils escaped her fingertips, silencing the whispers. Her magic had passion and spark, soon blooming into a mountain of shadow.

Gasps sounded as Thessa stepped into the blaze.

When the fire ceased to exist, the rebellion roared. Hope gleamed around her in the form of tears, cheers, and admiration. As everyone closed in to celebrate, Soren dashed through the crowd. His arms wrapped tight around her waist, lifting her swiftly off her feet. When his fierce, black eyes found hers, the world disappeared entirely. She was falling into a chasm only to see something dark and lovely at the bottom, beckoning her to fall a while. He tipped his nose to touch hers and grinned so broad his sharp canines sparkled in the sunlight.

I’m going to need you to kiss me, Thessa.

It was hard to resist smiling back before she crashed her lips into his. Thessa held the will of this rebellion in one hand, and the serpent-wielder in the other.

Thessa asked, “Why are Hades and Ares leading this carriage?”

“Because we’re riding in it.”

“Your bags and the grimoire are inside, sir.”

“Thank you, Reginald. You’ve been more than helpful.”

Reginald dipped his head and moved to speak with the driver.

Thessa narrowed her gaze at Soren. There were only three carriages and hundreds of travelers. “Why? You said the carriages were for storage.”

“Your leg.” His tone was sharp and left no room for argument.

“I said I feel fine,” she snapped. It was true. Walking was no longer a burden.

“And I want to make sure it stays that way,” he pressed.

Even if he had a point, it wasn’t fair.

Thessa, argue with me in the carriage then.

Caving, she stepped into the wood paneled cabin. The opposing benches were draped in a dark floral print, matching the window coverings. She plopped down with a sigh before Soren shut them both inside.

He sat beside her and asked, “Why are you so stubborn?”

“I don’t want special treatment. Resentment is the last thing that’ll help us,” she said .

“They were cheering your name. That’s far from resentment.”

Thessa tried to hold back her grin. “They were pretty impressed, weren’t they?”

His gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth as he spoke through their bond. I almost ripped your clothes off in front of children.

Her body hummed for him, especially as his knuckle nudged her chin.

“I suppose … they’ll understand,” she whispered, closing the distance between them.

Soren, the victor, smiled and kissed her. It was soft, though the press of his lips held something formidable. “They most certainly will,” he whispered back, moving his mouth to her neck.

Every peck and scrape of his teeth had her shriveling in her seat. She palmed his thigh, squeezing it to rid her own tension.

“You should feed,” Soren reminded her, cutting right through her bliss.

When he brought his wrist to his mouth, she kicked her leg up, unsheathed her blade, and thrust her dagger at him. “Please. Use this.”

After slicing through his skin he noted how sharp her blade was.

“Thank you.” She took the compliment with a smile before sliding down to settle down between his knees.

She looked at him, then his bleeding forearm draped over his thigh, and latched on. Each sip was more divine than the last. As her feed turned into a feast, all she could think about was how delicious he tasted.

Soren swore .

When her hands traced his chiseled waistline, her name slithered off his tongue.

In response, she lifted her mouth from his arm, rubbing her bloody lips together. She was satiated, yet not at all. Looking up, she met Soren’s darkened glare.

He grinned, ordering her to undress while wrapping a cloth around his wrist with expert speed.

Getting out of Sila’s too-tight leathers had proven to be just as difficult as squeezing into them. Soren had already stripped down and was threatening to rip them off of her, and she was about to let him until they finally gave.

A shift of Soren’s arms and he’d pulled her astride his lap.

“I wasn’t done,” she teased, jabbing his shoulder with the point of her nail.

“Done with what?”

She couldn’t say it out loud, and didn’t have to.

Tasting you.

Releasing his grip on her hips he threw interlaced hands behind his head and smirked. “Oh, by all means.”

Thessa knelt back down, kissing his knee first. Then the other. She moved her way up his bare thigh, slow enough to torture him. Though she was only torturing herself, she loved the taste of him. His skin. His magic. His blood. His?—

Thessa, I’m going to destroy you.

Me first.

When her mouth met the base of his length, he moaned. Forgoing kisses, she licked her way up.

Soren shuddered.

Bracing his thighs, she slid her mouth around him and sucked. Slow and deliberate movements shifted into a hasty game of making him finish.

At some point, his fingers had woven through her hair, helping guide her up and down his length. When he slammed his tip into the back of her throat, she moaned.

That’s what you want?

Seated deep inside her mouth, she nodded in answer.

Soren gripped her head and thrusted hard enough to make her gag, before growling and pulling her off. He jerked his chin to the opposing bench and said, “Sit.”

Never taking her eyes off of the male tinkering with her heart, she slid back and up to her seat.

His voice was low and rumbling as he said, “Now put your legs up how I like them.”

Seconds passed and she hadn’t done what he asked. Instead, she was doe-eyed and rubbing her knees together.

“Thessa,” he breathed. “Are you going to behave?”

She swallowed her rebuttal and set one foot on the bench at a time—utterly exposed. Soren grumbled his approval before leaning forward and ordering her to touch herself.

Heat flooded through her

Do what?

Go on.

Soren’s eyes shifted to her center as he stroked his length.

To do something like this in front of each other was unthinkable. Although, if she cared to admit it, watching him come undone was making her entirely weak.

Starting easy, she cupped and rubbed her breasts.

His approval didn’t last long. He flashed his pointed canines. “Lower.”

Soren.

Lower.

Her fingertips trailed down her stomach, landing between her thighs.

Soren’s hand was roaming brutally over his tip. By the looks of it he wasn’t going to last. “Do you see what you do to me?” His voice was rough.

“Yeah,” she breathed, finding her most sensitive spot and pressing down. “You do the same to me.”

Soren’s predatory grace gave way to wild hunger. He flew across the carriage and landed between her legs.

He groaned on her skin, as if starved.

Thessa gasped as he became a blur of tongue, teeth, and feral heat. Clutching the window coverings for leverage, she writhed, whimpering a string of curses. Every time she’d try to slide back, he pulled her closer. When her hips would lift, he’d shove them down. If her knees dared press closer, he’d tear them apart. He was a serpent, suffocating his prey in the most brilliant of ways.

Through their bond, she asked, why won’t you let me have all of you? I need you. Every part of you.

Soren swore as his body shook. His mouth hovered over her center as his hot breath came out in bursts. The feeling sent waves rippling inside her. With his head down between her thighs, he whispered, “You’ve thoroughly destroyed me.”

Thessa sighed, thinking how his mess could’ve easily been solved.

Still crouched between her legs, he eyed her. “Not even the elixir you keep taking will help your campaign. Even the best ones have their faults. If you were to fall pregnant, do you understand what that means?”

Did he think she paid no attention in Immortal Anatomy lessons? “I understand pregnancy leads to a child, but the elixirs are effective, at least for a majority.”

“See. You admit it.”

Thessa closed her legs, shoving him out. “You’ve taken the fun out of this. ”

He exhaled, sliding up to sit beside her. “It’s not the chance of a child I’m concerned about.”

“Just tell me why then.”

He paused, running fingers through his silky, black hair. “I wish to never pass my powers on. To be this different … is a burden. Living in a world where we are hunted, is a burden.”

This form of nobility was frustrating and although she understood, her eyes rolled anyway.

He toyed with her breast while nuzzling into her neck. “Forgive me.”

“For now.”