Chapter 37

I'm not asleep when I hear the light knocking on the other side of my door. It's been two days since evacuations finished in Blackreach and scouts reported Legion is lingering in Autumnhelm, just beyond the bridge. If they stay on target, they'll make their move tomorrow, so retiring to my chambers a couple hours before the sun set fully seemed responsible, though I haven't been able to sleep.

Snapping my fingers to light the candles seated in the wall sconces, I sit up and tuck the sheets in around my legs. One downward glance, and I regret not having closed the balcony doors before lying down, my charcoal nightdress clinging to my nipples that have hardened into tight points from the cool breeze blowing into the room. I unlock the door with my magic, and it groans as it swings inward.

Sin envelops the threshold. The fire crackling softly in the sconces provides just enough light for me to get a good look at him. He wears a loose-fitting white shirt with a deep neckline, exposing the smooth, sculpted planes of his tan chest. Fitted black pants hug his powerful thighs, and his shoulders nearly brush the doorway on either side of him. He closes the door behind him, and his eyes instantly take in my attire, lingering a few seconds longer where my nipples threaten to tear through my nightdress. Stupid kingdom silk.

Sin tears his ogling stare away from my chest to meet my own and crosses the room, the floor creaking softly under the weight of his black boots. He sits on the foot of the bed. "I wanted to give you something before tomorrow."

He slips a hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a small black vial. Its scent invades my nose immediately, and my mouth goes dry as the damp floral aroma caresses my lips, my tongue, my throat. He grabs my hand and slips the bottle into my palm, wrapping my fingers closed around it.

"Your blood," I breathe. I open my hand and run a thumb along the vial's surface. There is a braided rope he cinched around it, making it fit to be worn as a necklace.

"I know it isn't the same as shedding it yourself, but it's still a fresh source of goddess-blessed blood should you find yourself in need of more power tomorrow."

I stare at him wide-eyed. "Do you know how dangerous it is to give a bloodwitch something like this?" Having but a drop of someone's blood grants me power over them, a direct link to their collective, and the Black Art has just given me a bottle of his.

His eyes dart between both of mine. "I trust you… Wren," he whispers, and my heartbeat quickens at the sound of my name on his tongue.

I thumb the vial and resist the urge to pop its lid and inhale deeply. Inhale him. The mere thought of it heightens my arousal, and I clench my thighs together in reflex. If he was serious about being able to smell my…

Goddess save me from this embarrassment.

Did he just smirk? Sin stands, a wicked grin on his mouth, and his hands move to the waist of his trousers. "I have something else for you too."

He unsheathes a sword from his hip I don't recognize as one of his own. It's smaller than the ones I've seen him spar with, its hilt designed for a slighter hand, but its blade honed to the same lethal perfection as any of his. He holds it out to me, pommel first. I accept it eagerly and study the intricate swirling pattern carved into it. It rests snugly in my hand—a perfect fit.

"It's beautiful," I say with awe in my tone.

"I had my best smith on it. I would have made it myself, but I haven't had the time."

"You forge?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "A hobby. When my mind is spinning, I like to keep my hands moving."

I noticed he had a habit of doing tasks the mundane way instead of willing them complete with magic. The Black Art of Aegidale. The warlord known for being able to bring a man to his knees without lifting a finger but chooses to blacken his hands with steel and ash.

I rip the blankets off me and step out of bed, all too aware of the scantily clad nightgown clinging to my body. "Stand," I tell him.

He raises a dark eyebrow but obeys, towering over me.

I kneel before him.

Resting my hands on the crossguard, I present myself and my sword to the Black Art. "I pledge to serve you in the battle to come, Your Grace. So long as Legion remains a threat to us, I am your arm to wield."

It's a formality, of course. Sin and I have already made our compromise, but nonetheless, it feels right to pledge it verbally.

Sin stares down at me for a long moment, a mix of respect and… something else on his face. "I accept your pledge and in return, I swear to protect you in the face of battle tomorrow. Now get off the floor—you don't belong there." He wraps a large hand around my bicep and pulls me against his chest. My breath catches as he leans forward to brush his lips against my ear. "But if you're fond of kneeling, I can find a better purpose for it."

He brushes past me, heading for the door, and I wonder if his transcendent ears hear the lapse in my breath. I should let him go. Walk out the door so we can both get some rest before tomorrow, and then I can pack my things and leave after the war is won. Because something tells me if I call after him, it will break the seal holding in the carnal desires we've both been stifling.

That would be very, very dangerous.

But I've always had an affinity for playing with fire.

"Do you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you, Your Grace?"

Sin freezes, his back towards me, and I could choke on the tension filling the space between us. Slowly, he turns to face me again, and he walks back towards me, this time not stopping until his chest is flush against mine and his hips are pressed against my waist. He reaches up to cup my jaw. "If you're asking if I've spilt seed thinking about this pretty little mouth," he runs his thumb over the swells of my lips, "the answer is yes."

I capture my bottom lip between my teeth, and he growls at the sight of it. He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring. "Does that thought arouse you, love?" he asks, already knowing the answer. Smelling it from between the thighs I clench together as if I could hold back the wetness now pooling there.

"When?" I ask.

He arches a dark brow at my question.

"You said you pleasured yourself thinking about me. I want to know when." I straighten my spine, willing my lips not to tremble under his touch.

Sin drops his hands to grip my waist and pushes us both back onto the balcony until my ass bumps against the railing. He dips his head and presses his full lips along the column of my neck.

"The night we shared a bed, when I left so you could bathe," he whispers against my skin. "I didn't have release at the Rut, and I barely made it to the woods before I was fisting my cock and coming in my hand, wishing it was your godsdamned throat."

I grab the railing behind me as his mouth moves lower and his fingers ball up the fabric of my nightgown around my thighs. He drags his lips across my collarbone.

"This is wrong. Sin—Singard, this is… wrong," my words trail off as he bites down on the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and a small moan falls from my lips, inciting his own growl of approval.

"Is it wrong that you're dripping at the thought of me—of us? You know I can smell it," he says, then licks the spot he bit. He slides my dress up, and his hands grip my full thighs. My heart thrums erratically in my ears. I can't think straight, my mind consumed with his hands on my skin, the heat coming off him, the smell of his blood from the vial now sitting on the bedside table. This is wrong. But why is it wrong? I can't remember now.

I gasp as his fingers lightly brush against my underwear.

"Can I touch you here, love?"

It isn't logic. And it certainly isn't right. But my thoughts are clouded with his hand so damn close to where I ache to feel his touch, and I nod. "Yes," I whisper, hating and loving myself for giving him permission to touch me where I need to feel him most.

He hooks two fingers into my panties and pulls them to the side, baring me to him. His eyes drop to my cunt, now throbbing in anticipation, and his eyes glaze with lust.

My head falls back as he slips a finger inside me.

"Oh, little witch," he murmurs, feeling my wetness there.

I arch my back as he begins to slide his finger in and out of me, breathy pants falling from my mouth as he does. Sin wraps his other arm around my waist, supporting me against the balcony railing as he fucks me with his finger, then two. I grind against his hand, desperate for release, but also terrified to let this man make me come. The man that held me captive. Threatened my life. Choked the very breath out of me.

But somehow it all makes me burn hotter for him, as if the wrongness of it makes it feel that much fucking better.

I cry out when he withdraws his fingers. "What are you—"

"Turn around," he orders.

Dazed and a little confused, I spin and prop my elbows against the rail. A couple stories down, a few guards patrol outside the castle.

Sin nudges the inside of my ankle with his boot. "Widen your stance."

I obey, walking my feet out so I'm spread a little farther. "Someone could hear us," I say, looking at the guards chortling with each other as they make their rounds beneath us.

"Good, then they'll know you're mine. Wren—what a pretty name. Let's see if you sing like one too."

His fingers plunge back into me, and I can't stifle the moan that rips from my chest as he fills my emptiness. He reaches underneath me and palms my aching breast with his other hand, and I call out as he squeezes it, my head falling back to rest against his shoulder, his own sounds of approval vibrating in my ear. I arch my back, grinding my hips against his, feeling his arousal jutting into me as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me in a rhythmic cadence. I press my ass against him harder, surely soaking the front of his pants with my wetness, and a sound of approval rattles from his chest.

"That's it, take your pleasure. Fuck my fingers."

Goddess above,I'll come to his voice alone if he keeps talking like that. He curls his fingers up to hit that spot and oh—OH!

"Just like that, love. That's a good fucking girl," he growls in my ear. "Lean back and sing for me, Wren."

Fuck. Fuck!

I clench around him as the rush of pleasure shatters me and I come undone in a thousand pieces, Sin's name falling from my lips as I ride out my release. And when the euphoria finally fades, I right myself and my nightgown, letting it swish back over my thighs. Sin holds his hand up, admiring my cum glistening and stretching between his fingers, and then takes them both into his mouth. He sucks me off his fingers with a sound of approval, his lips making a loud pop when he slides them from his mouth.

"If you taste like this every time you come, you're going to be a very addictive problem, little witch."

Fucking hell. I reach to unfasten his pants, but he pins my hand under his.

"No," he snarls, frustrated.

My brows furrow, but before I can ask why, he says, "I can't let you do that so long as I have you tethered to me. It's not…" he lets out a long groan, "it's not fucking right."

"But I want to," I insist. And judging from the huge bulge straining against his pants, he wants it too.

Sin leans forward and rests his forehead against mine, blowing out a long breath. "There is nothing I want more than to make you scream my name until you're hoarse in the throat, but regardless of what you want right now, you're here against your will. I won't go further until you can make that choice fully of your own volition."

I drop my hands back to my sides. "You're serious? So where does that leave us now?"

He lifts his head and bites his lip, and the sight of that alone could probably make me orgasm again. "It leaves you crawling that sweet ass back into bed and getting your rest so you keep us all from dying tomorrow. And it leaves me returning to my chambers so I can take my own release with the taste of you still in my mouth."

He cocks his head and brushes his lips across the corner of my mouth without actually kissing me there, we still have not kissed on the mouth, and then turns and heads for the door. Like he did earlier when I should have let him leave. Not call after him and especially not consent to doing what we just did.

But I'm really glad I did because Goddess help me, I haven't come like that in… well… ever.

Sin hovers in the doorway before leaving and bids me a final glance over his shoulder. "Who knew the stars tasted so fucking sweet?"

And with that, he closes the door behind him, and I swipe the vial off the table and inhale it as I slip my own fingers back inside my depth.