Chapter 14

Calen

Ifall asleep the moment my head touches the pillow after another endless day of meetings with Averion’s captains and intendants.

Moonlight is still streaming through the window, bathing my room in soft light, when I open my eyes.

I quickly scan my surroundings, finding everything still and in its place. With my pulse pounding in my ears, I am tempted to fall back asleep, thinking of the mountain of work awaiting me at dawn, but I hold off.

My instinct is rarely wrong.

Faint metallic scraping reaches my ears. It’s so subtle at first that I think I imagined it, until my breath catches in my chest when the muted clicks come again, followed by muffled pressure on the door handle. My pulse accelerates, wiping all traces of sleep away.

Someone is on the other side of the door, rattling with its knob.

My alert senses, honed by years of paranoid caution, pick up on the hair-thin sounds of the lock surrendering. The rasp of metal on metal whispers like a shout in the night’s stillness.

I ease from bed soundlessly, my hand fisting the handle of the knife underneath my pillow. If the intruder is any good, they’ll get in within seconds, so I bunch the covers back in place and stand in the corner.

Working to regulate my heartbeat, I slow my breathing and close my eyes, letting my other senses take over.

A louder click sounds and my eyes snap open.

The slender shape of my visitor enters the room, closing the door with an impressively delicate touch, barely making noise. And as they step towards the bed, I tighten my hold on the blade.

In moments like this, I’ve learned it’s best to strike first and ask questions later. So I do.

Seizing my opponent from behind, I pull them to me with one hand on their mouth while the other goes to their neck, my knife finding their throat.

I freeze when the intruder stills in my arms, my blade ready to plunge into their jugular and redecorate my cream bed sheets. For the first time in my life, I hesitate.

Faced with the complete absence of a survival instinct in my opponent, I delay the inevitable for a split second.

I’ve never met an assassin unwilling to engage in self-defense. That’s not the right line of work to be in, but they should have thought about that before breaking into the room of the General of the Fae armies.

I inhale deeply, ready to dismiss this internal debate when a familiar perfume fills my nose—floral and sweet, with a hint of vanilla.

“What the hell,” I blurt out as I release my hold on the intruder’s mouth.

“Cal.” A feminine voice escapes their throat. “It’s me.”

My stomach drops and I lower my knife instantly.

“Vesta.”

I pull her to my chest with both arms, careful not to cut her as I burrow my face in her hair, breathing in her scent while my brain catches up with the fact that I came so terribly close to taking her life.

Her hand goes to my forearm, gently pressing as she exhales, and we stay there a moment, holding each other.

Letting go of her, I put the knife down and turn her to face me. I catch her widened eyes, the moonlight just enough for me to discern the light tremble of her lips.

“What the hell, V?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice breaking.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Gathering her in my arms, she rests her head on my bare chest as I gently brush her hair and whisper against her head. “You’re safe.”

I’ve never regretted sleeping with a knife until now.

She remains silent as her heart pounds against my chest, so I step back and cup her cheek with one hand.

“You pick locks now?” I ask.

She gives me a small smile in return, her hands finding purchase on my ribcage.

“Did you get lost?” I raise an eyebrow, but she merely shakes her head.

Turning her head, she rubs her lips on my palm, softly caressing the skin before depositing a kiss on it.

I still completely and she kisses my palm again, this time with more strength.

“Vesta,” I whisper her name when her hands begin tracing my torso, as she moves close enough for me to feel her warm breath on my skin.

Goosebumps erupt on my arms with each touch, and the panic slowly retreats, teasing something else entirely in its wake.

Her tongue darts out of her mouth, tasting my skin before a kiss follows.

“What are you doing?” My voice shakes with tension.

Each touch of her lips is like a punishment, and I’m dying for the next lash of her whip.

“Shhh.” She puts her index finger on my mouth. As she presses against my lips, I give up probing for an explanation, set on not stoking the flames of the fears I know lurk beneath her confident exterior. “Let’s not overthink this.”

She kisses my jaw next and I pinch my eyes closed, praying for the strength to resist tearing at her clothes.

My hands go to her waist as I toy with the idea of pushing her away. I don’t trust myself near her. My body begs to relinquish control and surrender to her touch. With restraint the last thing on my mind and forbidden words threatening to spill over my tongue, could I show restraint when I already care so much and she’s afraid to? I can’t risk exposing the depth of my obsession for her.

Her hand trails down my stomach as if she’s heard the prayer and taken it as a challenge. Each subtle caress fuels a tempest in my blood.

I’ve been to hell and back, survived wars, but this? This is torture of a new kind.

“You’re making it really hard for me to do the right thing,” I say, staring down at her.

“Then don’t.”

Her fingers land on the bulge of my undershorts, and she shatters my fragile self-control with a single touch.

“You turn me into a weak, weak man.” My grip on her waist tightens. “And you just undid my last restraints.”

I close the gap between us, my dreams catching up with reality. Her lips are as soft as I remember, and I’m ready to get lost under her touch.

Her hands make quick work of the last fabric on my body as mine travel hers for the first time, memorizing each curve.

Bunching up her loose shirt in my palms, I tear it open from the back, eliciting a gasp from her throat.

“Tsk, tsk. That won’t do, Dove.” I kiss under her ear. “I’m going to make you sing, and discover each sound you make until your throat is raw.”

Her gaze travels my body, the corner of her lips tugging into a smile in challenge, and she pulls away, depriving me of her touch save for her index on my chest.

She pushes me against the bed until my thighs hit the mattress.

Sitting, I lean on my hands as she removes her torn shirt and wiggles out of her dark pants.

My rock-hard length twitches. She’s not wearing undergarnments.

“Was that for me, Dove?” A smile appears on my face. “Bold.”

I snatch her waist and position her on top of me, the wetness between her thighs already coating my legs.

I take her lips as she grinds her gorgeous body over mine. She hovers over my erection, teasing, until the determination in her eyes registers.

There’s no way I’m letting her do that. Not yet.

“I’m going to savor you, V.”

Flipping her around, I lay her down on the mattress and settle between her legs.

Kissing my way down her neck, I take my time, licking and biting every inch of her pearly skin. Her hands grasp my shoulders, holding on for dear life as I grind against her soaked entrance.

Her breathing accelerates as I near her breasts and finally claim their pink summits between my lips.

She pushes her hips forward, seeking me, but I’m not giving in that easily. With her hushed gasps in my ears, I pull back.

Her furrowed brows draw a smile to my face.

“Bastard.”

“You’ve seen nothing yet.” My smile widens and I lower myself on the bed, resuming my exploration.

She spreads her legs, guiding me towards her entrance, and I oblige.

The first touch of my tongue on her engorged bud has her arching her back. Moans fill the air as I lap at her dripping pussy like a parched man, my fingers finding her entrance.

The taste of her intoxicating, I lose myself in her folds as I slide a digit inside her.

She exhales slowly, her breathing short. I push in and out of her, ready to make her forget her name, to only remember mine.

Her hands roam the bedsheets, gripping the fabric as moans fill her mouth.

“There you go. Sing for me, Dove.”

And she does.

Her thighs tighten around my neck and I gently bite her clit, sending her writhing.

I let her ride the edge for a moment before pulling away.

A growl escapes her throat as I move. I bring my face close to hers, my mouth teasing hers, softly rubbing against her swollen lips, her gritted teeth not far behind.

Her nails trail down my chest, leaving my skin raw, and she pushes me back and straddles me as I sit.

Her thighs lock around my waist, positioning me towards her entrance, and I don’t resist.

My mouth crashes on hers as I sink into her warmth, and I don’t repress the growl of pleasure tearing through me.

She starts rolling her hips and I watch as my hardened length goes in and out of her slowly. She pulls back, bringing the tip of my dick almost out of her before plunging it back in. Enthralled, I let her set the pace, supporting her back with my arms.

Gods knows I’ll never get to heaven in this life, but I now understand what it feels like.

Her smell, her warmth, her sounds. Everything about her is pure bliss.

Vesta extends her arms behind her to lean back as she rides me tirelessly, bringing me to the edge. My fingers find the spot between her legs, circling gently as she nears her release.

Each stroke could be my unraveling, but I hold back, focusing on her and her only.

She lets out a scream as she topples over, her pussy clenching around my length buried deep inside her, and only then do I allow myself to come.

She falls on her back moments later, disconnecting us, and the distance is already too much.

We’re both panting, but I can’t take my eyes off her. Dawn is near, bringing enough light for me to study her, and I attempt to carve this image in my memory. From her body covered in sweat, her chest rising rapidly as she catches her breath, to her hair cascading around her gorgeous face and her trembling lips. But before I get the chance, she leaves the bed.

I don’t dare say a word, too scared to spoil this moment suspended in time as she puts on her torn shirt.

Fully dressed, she makes for the door, and a pit opens in my stomach, widening with each step she takes.

I am utterly lost to her, left to pray this won’t be the last I see of her, and royally fucked.

She turns back at the last second and we lock eyes as she scrapes the door with her fingernails.

A week later, I’m behind Azran’s desk, attending another meeting after dinner.

As Naar finishes his report on his units’ patrols across the territories, reporting no disturbances, the discreet captain leans back against a bookshelf.

I nod regularly as the rest of our army’s captains follow suit, sharing updates.

Several heads turn when the office door opens, and my gaze falls on the latecomer. The Captain of the High Guard strolls in, her head held high, confident as ever.

Were it just the two of us, I would scold her for her tardiness and no doubt receive a sarcastic response, but I remain silent and keep my face neutral instead. Were it just the two of us, there are many things I would do, and none involve having an audience.

Vesta plops herself on one of the leather couches and I can’t help but devour her with a glance.

I saw so little of her these past few days that I could almost believe I imagined that night, although the memories are too vivid to be a dream. I can still smell and taste her when I close my eyes.

Rearranging the papers on the desk in front of me, I try to concentrate on the reports, but when it’s her turn to speak, I can’t take my eyes off her. Leading suits her so damn well. She’ll never admit it, but she was born for it, although the responsibilities take their toll on her.

Once all captains have spoken, I stand and walk to the front of the desk, leaning on it to take in the room.

“While your High Lord and Ela are away, it is our duty to ensure the safety of the realm. Keep me posted on all developments.”

I receive grunts and nods in response, and wave towards the door to release them to their evenings.

“Vesta,” I call as she crosses the room.

Her head snaps towards me.

“A word.”

Naar exits last, closing the door behind him as Vesta absently brushes the books on the shelves lining the office.