by Ann Aguirre
“Not at all.”
“Fetch a cushion from the sofa.”
Alastor complied at once and when he brought it to her, she rewarded him with a hot, open-mouthed kiss. “Good. That’s for you, not me. You’ll need it for your knees.”
“My…oh.”
He understood at once what she was proposing. No one had ever asked him to kneel and offer worship with his mouth. Of course, no one would dare; he was a prince, but excitement built ferociously as he placed the pillow and settled before her. His cock had been hard for half an hour, but now it swelled until he was uncomfortably conscious of how it pressed against his trousers.
Her hand tangled in his hair, tugging his head up. The eye contact sizzled through him as he hovered, a mere breath away from tasting her. “You owe me an orgasm. I’ve been so frustrated because of you.”
“It will be my pleasure,” he managed to say.
“Don’t go straight for my clit. I want kisses first on my lips, some light nuzzling. When you start feeling how wet I am on your face, then you can suck on it.”
At those explicit instructions, he almost came and he hadn’t even touched her yet. “I am your willing pupil.”
He leaned in at last, fixed on following her orders to the letter. Her lips were full and soft, already glistening a little, and she tasted like heaven, sweet and salt. He pressed delicate kisses against her until she let out a groan and lifted a foot onto the stool nearby, opening herself fully to his mouth. She worked against him in slow undulations, until his face was coated with her juices, and he could only think of getting her off. The insistent throb of his own desire seemed distant compared to the hands tugging at his hair, urging him where she needed friction most.
“Yes, that’s good. Feels so…” The words dissolved in a moan when he licked each of her lips in turn and then sucked on them.
Her clit was swollen now, begging for attention. He grazed it with his thumbs and her whole body jerked. He pulled back enough to ask, “Can you come standing up?”
“Don’t stop,” she ordered with a yank on his hair.
Alastor took that for a yes. When he touched his mouth to her clit, her back arched. He raised his eyes to watch her face, adjusting the speed and pressure in response to how she quivered and her lips parted on sweet little gasping breaths. Without waiting for an invitation, he slid one finger inside her and then two, and she went wild, fucking his face with urgent lunges.
She cursed as she came and her knees buckled. He caught her in a move that was near miraculous because his legs were stiff. Sheyla snuggled into him as he carried her to their very beige bedroom. Aftershocks were still ticking through her, so he cradled her against his chest, thoroughly pleased with himself.
Eventually, she pushed up on one elbow and touched his sticky cheek. “You don’t want to wash up?”
“In a bit. I’ve some hope that I’ll become messier yet.”
“Ah,” she said, smiling. “You have been remarkably patient, and it seems utterly unfair that you’re still dressed.”
“Let me remedy that.”
He was reluctant to let go of her even long enough to strip out of his clothes, as if she was a creature of pure light who might vanish if he blinked. He did the job quickly and came back to bed in record time. Her amber eyes gleamed with warm gold as she drank him in. His cock responded to her look with a pulse that doubled as a wave.
“Signaling frantically, I see.”
“What can I say, he’s a greedy bastard.” His voice emerged rasping and thick.
“Is that where you want me to begin?’
Alastor couldn’t think, let alone make requests. “Do as you will with me.”
A pleased purr escaped her, full of throaty appreciation. “You won’t regret giving yourself to me.”
She started with a soft, deep kissing, and it felt like she was licking up her own juices, savoring her flavor on his skin. A jolt of pure lust shuddered through him. With anyone else, he would’ve put her hand on his cock or possibly forced her face down. Alastor wanted to know what Sheyla would do, given complete freedom, so he kissed her back until he was half-mad and breathless. He panted as she nibbled down his throat, over his shoulder to his chest. It seemed as if her lips must leave a white-hot imprint on his skin.
Rolling atop him, she sucked at each of his nipples, then bit into his chest, not hard enough to break the skin, but the sting contrasted deliciously to the soft heat of her mouth. Blearily he realized what the intermittent pressure meant. “You’re marking me?”
“It’s only fair.”
The blood mark. He almost lost control over the idea of Sheyla leaving her stamp on his skin, not that it was her sole claim on his body. Her wet cunt slid against his abdomen, so that his dick rested beneath the ripe curve of her ass. It was too much for him to be still, so he rocked against her, slowly at first, and when she sat up, he understood that she meant to tease.
“I’m not fucking you tonight, so don’t hold back.”
“You want me to come like this?”
“If you can.”
“Not if. When.” Gazing up at her lovely face, stroking against her soft ass, it didn’t take long until the pleasure spiked to excruciating levels. She made it even hotter by moving with him, studying his face as he had hers. His pleasure became a story she could read, written in each new gasp and moan.
“You’re watching me get there,” he whispered.
“Yes. It’s making me want you again. You’re so beautiful like this.”
And he could feel the heat in his cheeks, the hardness of his nipples, nothing compared to the diamond-bright need thrumming in his cock. Pressure built in his lower back, tightening his abs. With a groan of pure need, he sat up and pulled her in for a devouring kiss as he spurted against her round ass and he couldn’t resist rolling her against him until they were both slick.
Trembling, he leaned his forehead against hers. “See? Messy.”
“We should shower. I doubt they provide limitless linens.” Her amusement didn’t even faze him.
“Give me a moment. my legs won’t hold.”
“Take five, then.” She held him the whole time, arms firm about his back until the shaking stopped.
Alastor had never felt so secure in his life. “That… was amazing.”
“It will get better,” she said with a remarkable, serene confidence.
“You’re so sure?”
“Of course. This was merely to take the edge off. I don’t intend to take you tonight because anticipation will only make completion sweeter when the time comes.”
14.
Between the witching hour and dawn, Sheyla awoke to arms drawing her close. The room had grown chilly and she pulled up the covers around them. After showering, they’d tumbled to bed in an exhaustion so profound that couldn’t be mended in one night. The last time she was this tired, she had been on duty at St. Casimir for three days straight.
At some point Alastor had shifted to his side, facing her, and the moonlight streaming through the window illuminated his features. Hardly daring to breathe for fear of waking him, she traced a fingertip down the slope of his nose. As she studied him, his lashes flickered and then his eyes drifted open.
“You’re still here,” he whispered, kissing her chin.
“Where would I go?”
“I’ve no idea. Wherever lovely spirits sleep.”
“You persist in the charming idea that I’m a figment of your imagination. Does that mean you would’ve invented someone like me if I didn’t exist?”
He paused a moment to consider before replying, “It seems so.”
For that bit of improbable sweetness, she framed his face in her hands and kissed him. Her eyes closed of their own accord and his skin just naturally invited her palms to skim onward, down his throat to his shoulders, arms that tightened on her with every touch, until her cheek was against his chest. Unlike the Animari, he had no body hair, sleek and hot beneath her hands. For once, her
first thought was that he felt good, not that he might have a fever.
“Tell me about Golgerra,” she invited.
“We have an hour before we need to get out of this warm bed. Is that truly how you prefer to spend those moments?”
Sheyla tapped his shoulder in mock reproof. “An hour wouldn’t be long enough.”
“True. Then… where shall I start?”
“Anywhere.” She slid an arm across his hip, content to listen.
“I’ll assume you know next to nothing about our capital. Is that fair?”
She nodded. “What little we learn about the Golgoth in school, well…”
“I expect it’s that little children ought to be wary. Moving on. Golgerra is built into a mountain, I don’t suppose you knew that, either?”
“No, definitely not.”
“Ages ago, it was established as a stronghold and became known as virtually unassailable, though the Eldritch and Animari both tried on separate occasions.”
“The entire city is underground, then?” That sounded strange, and try as she might, Sheyla couldn’t quite picture it.
“There’s no sky overhead, but I don’t feel… entombed. Over the last five hundred years, expert engineers and artisans have expanded natural caverns, carving and refining the stone. You can find some true wonders in our Hall of Heroes, our important figures etched in precious minerals and gemstones.”
“That sounds beautiful.”
His voice softened on a wistful note; he must be wondering if he’d ever see Golgerra again, whether this war would end in death or exile. “It is. High in the vaults, there are crystals embedded to reflect light, so we have a day and night cycle. The hydroponic gardens are gorgeous too, and the smell of drying herbs at harvest time…”
“You make me want to see it with my own eyes,” Sheyla admitted. “And that’s not something I ever imagined I would say.”
“I haven’t even mentioned the market at the center of town. It’s open all hours, day and night, and since floor space is limited, the stalls rotate by shifts.”
“Which means you need to know what time to find your favorite vendor. The way you talked before, it seems like there’s an actual palace…?”
“I suppose you could say so. Golgerrans know it as Vega Rising and I… I called it home. It’s a massive complex built above the city on a stone piazza with balconies and terraces, hallways that honeycomb outward and lead down into the city. You might think everything is brown or gray, but the stone is exquisite, variegated like your eyes, and when the light reflects off the mezzanine it shines like a star.”
“Wow.”
He went on, encouraged by her soft exclamation. “It’s not all beauty, of course. The poor are consigned to the barrens or forced to stand watch outside in exchange for subsistence rations. And I haven’t even touched on the undercity reserved for traitors, dissidents, prisoners. There are families who have been imprisoned for generations, all because they offended some royal a hundred years ago.”
“That is—”
“Barbaric.” He spoke the word quietly, before she could, and she had the sense that it hurt him to do so. “Golgerra is a city of wonder… and horror. I have both in my soul, shalai.”
“As do we all.”
“That is a kinder response than most would offer,” he said.
“Let’s agree that each of our people have moments that we lament.” With a kiss that landed solely on his lower lip, she pulled away. “Little as I like it, we have too much to do and too little time.”
“I wish you weren’t so wretchedly right all the time,” he muttered.
Alastor didn’t protest when she got up, though, and soon, they were sharing bathroom space while she cleaned her teeth and he tidied up his braids.
“No shaving,” she realized aloud. “I wonder if your people created the ranking braids to—” she cut herself off. “Sorry, was that rude?”
“In anyone else, I’d consider taking offense. To you, I offer latitude because I rather enjoy being the subject of your intellectual speculation.”
“I’m not sure quite how to take that.”
“As you please.”
“Then I’m logging it as a compliment.”
This teasing felt strangely natural, something she couldn’t have imagined before. As she prepared a quick breakfast, she asked, “What’s on your agenda today?”
“Factory, I think. If permissions are handed down from the ministry, I need to have a facility ready to convert to munitions, which means spreading some charm first.”
“And here I thought you were too pretty to be this clever.”
“I’d rather if you reckoned me both,” Alastor said, stealing the toast from her fingers and biting it nearly in half.
With a feigned grumble, she buttered another slice and slathered it with berry compote, then fed it to him with her own fingers. “I will admit that at first, I thought you were an empty vase, but I have come, truly, to admire you. For your quick mind and kind heart.”
After she said it, she winced because such things didn’t sound right coming from her mouth; colleagues at both Ash Valley and St. Casimir in Hallowell would laugh until they fell over. Something about her prince made it easy to be gentle, though, and she no longer had any desire to quell the impulse.
Together, they finished breakfast, he took his medicine, then they headed out. Dedrick was waiting at the top of the stairs, and his rough features lit with relief when he spotted Alastor.
“I’ve managed to find a factory owner on the east side of the city who is willing to meet with us.” By his exhausted countenance, Sheyla guessed it hadn’t been easy.
“Then let’s figure out how these trolleys work, shall we?” Alastor led the way, though not without casting several adorably forlorn looks over one shoulder.
While she couldn’t encourage him to shirk his duty, nobody had ever pined for her before. It wasn’t a disagreeable sensation to walk off knowing he would likely count the hours until he saw her face again. Sheyla had always been mildly baffled by the urge to shackle yourself to the same person for a lifetime, and while she wouldn’t go so far as to say she got the concept now, it was looking less like voluntary incarceration all the time.
The day was bright for winter as she strode along the pedestrian walk toward St, Casimir. Impossible not to breathe in the familiar smell of spiced milk tea sold on the corner, poured from steaming kettles. She’d gotten used to a certain homogeny in Ash Valley, but here the air spoke of all types of Animari—wolves, cats, bears, even the reclusive bird clan whispered in the wind. Added to the Eldritch and Golgoth, it was a veritable potpourri for enhanced senses.
When she entered the hospital, she went straight to Dr. Seagram’s office. He was just stepping out when she arrived, earning her a curious look.
“Something I can help you with, Dr. Halek?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’d consider it a personal favor if you’ll take on a VIP patient, so I can revert to clinical research on medication to treat his illness.”
Trolleys were… fun.
Delightful, even, bright blue with silver letters that named each one. The Maribel went west while the Talleyrand traveled east. Alastor didn’t expect any of that, but he loved the sparks flickering from the wires above and the wind whipping through windows that children kept opening, despite the persistent scolding of old women failing to keep them in check. At first, Dedrick tried to operate as a bulwark between him and the ‘commoners’ but he shook his head.
“Don’t call attention to us. Here, I’m nobody of importance.”
By his glum reaction, Ded understood the futility of arguing, but he still hated to see Alastor being jostled by people who should be removing their hats in his presence. For his own sake, he wished he had one to keep his ears from icing over. Plus, anonymity felt like a healing balm. It didn’t matter if he clung to the handle and wallowed off-balance when the trolley slalomed down the hillside, so that the buildings seemed to
rush at them.
His obvious enjoyment attracted a few indulgent smiles and one middle-aged woman even offered a teasing remark. “Your first time in the city, is it?”
“Yes. Is it obvious?”
“Quite. But I like your enthusiasm, it’s rare these days.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Have you lived here long?” He chatted a bit more, aware that she’d probably scream if she knew she was engaging with a Golgoth brute.
Before they reached the east side of Hallowell, which involved a transfer at the hub station, he had comforted a toddler, amused a baby, and yielded his seat to an old man with a prosthetic leg. His mother had seldom permitted him to go out into the bustle of Golgerra, fearing he’d suffer an attack one way or another, either related to his health or an assassination attempt, courtesy of Tycho, so this outing, though it was necessary, also felt like freedom. He was delighted by Hallowell’s openness, albeit when he considered how difficult it would be to defend, its charm faded slightly.
Eventually, they got off the trolley and walked the rest of the way to the sprawling factory that currently produced—
Alastor realized he had no idea. “What do they make here again? I should’ve reviewed the file on the way over.”
“Mechanical parts for the city’s automated systems,” Ded answered with infinite patience. Really, he should be doing this since he’d spent all night preparing.
“Right.” Silently he rehearsed his pitch as they reached what seemed to be a checkpoint.
“State your business,” the guard demanded.
“I’m here to see Finneas Furbander. He should be expecting us.” He added the last words with a look at Ded, who inclined his head slightly.
“Just a moment.” The comm unit crackled, and Alastor noticed that these were different than the phone he’d brought from Golgerra, more of an all-purpose device.
Fascinating. He had the one Ded had given him, but he’d been so interested in the people and the trolley itself that he hadn’t done more than switch it on. Presumably, his bodyguard had already sussed out Sheyla’s importance to him and added her code to his contacts.