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I smiled, content. “Boss.”
He laughed—a free, beautiful sound—and held me close as we both slipped into sleep.
Chapter 41
I opened my eyes to sunlight and the distant song of unknown creatures greeting the morning. Above me the stars of the domed ceiling still twinkled. Languor and deep peace drifted through me, and I smiled as I felt an arm draped across my hips and a black curtain of hair spread over my breasts.
He stayed, I thought in delighted wonder. He stayed and slept with me. I shifted very carefully to face him. Mzatal had dozed in the chair less than a week ago, so I knew he’d chosen to sleep with me. Rhyzkahl had never made that choice, even when I asked him to. As I looked upon the sleeping lord, I realized I’d never doubted that he would.
And he was, indeed, asleep. I reached and stroked his hair back from his face, wanting to see how he looked in repose.
Beautiful. He breathed deeply and evenly, face relaxed and carrying none of the controlled mask that he usually wore, whether smiling-controlled, or scary-mofo-controlled. For the first time I felt as if I had a glimpse of the true Mzatal, and I reveled in it.
I coiled a lock of hair around my finger while I reflected on, well, everything. I cared for Mzatal quite deeply, yet I knew this wasn’t any sort of “romantic” love. It was far more than that. I didn’t have words to explain it, and didn’t feel any need to do so. It just was. Even if we never slept together again, we’d always have this amazing shared closeness.
A smile twitched across my mouth. Though it wouldn’t be at all bad to do it again. Maybe some post-ritual celebration?
Mzatal drew a deep breath and stirred, a smile playing on his lips as he muttered something. I stroked his hair, and a moment later he stirred again, opened his eyes and looked into mine. He lifted his hand and set it against my cheek.
“Zharkat.”
I smiled. “Hi.”
His hand slipped to the back of my neck, and he brought me close for a kiss that did a lovely job of waking me up fully. He pulled back, smiling a smile that reached all the way to his eyes and shone out. “There are no words adequate,” he murmured.
I let a lock of his hair slide through my fingers. “I’m not even going to try,” I said with a chuckle. “And today we retrieve the blade.”
Mzatal slid his hand over my shoulder and down to my hip. “Yes, we do,” he said, still smiling. “And with Vsuhl, forestall much.”
“We will kick all the ass,” I said, deeply enjoying how at ease I felt with him.
Laughing, he wrapped me in his arms and rolled, pulling me atop him. “Is that what we will do, zharkat?” he asked. “Kick all the ass?”
I grinned, utterly delighted at the sound of his laugh. “Damn straight. We are badass, and all should fear us.” I lowered my head and nestled it into the crook of his neck. Despite my brave words there was a hell of a lot to be nervous about. And I was. I exhaled softly. “I could stay like this all day.”
Mzatal wrapped his arms around me. “And I as well,” he said. “Were it any other day, I would not leave these chambers.”
I shifted to nuzzle his neck. “After this is done, we must research how to conduct rituals from bed.”
He laughed. “What do you think I have been contemplating this morning?”
“You do know I sometimes set things on fire?”
“I have faith that your skills have improved since that incident,” he replied, giving me a squeeze.
Grinning, I sat up, still straddling him as I sketched a quick series of sigils, surprising myself with how easily and fluidly I could do so. “This could totally work!” I laughed and wiggled upon him, then dispelled the series.
I felt him harden—more of that demonic lord quick recovery and response at work. His hands went to my hips, and then he lifted me with ridiculous ease and slid within me. I let out a low groan and began to move against him.
“Trace again,” he said, smiling in enigmatic innocence.
I chuckled low in my throat, then did so while he did his utmost to break my concentration. After that he found new and interesting ways to distract me as I traced the next series, and the next. At long last I found myself—somehow—upon the table in the main room, the final series of the upcoming ritual drifting in luminescent perfection above me, and my body humming with languid pleasure.
“I think I know the series pretty well now,” I said, grinning up at him.
Mzatal leaned down and kissed me. “You have mastered it, indeed.”
“Please tell me you don’t train Idris like this?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
