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For so long, I'd lived under the thumb of powerful men telling me what to do and how to think. I had but a taste of the oppression that Source users lived through every day of their lives. Was it right to defy my king and let Remus keep his cat on the surface? Or was it wrong for me to force the other half of his soul into painful submission?
I met Remus’s eyes, realizing he was standing next to the bar top as if waiting for me to join him. Something in my stomach twisted, and my heart fluttered. As my betrothed, it was only fair that I share a room with him, but I couldn’t bring myself to make that step yet. We hadn’t even talked about what exactly transpired between myself and the prince, nor had I questioned any of them on their subsequent capture. That was a discussion for a safer place with less prying ears.
I felt eyes on me but refused to acknowledge them, knowing the captain of the guard was watching us openly. I ordered one more drink, nodding for Remus to go up without me. I trusted him not to leave in the dead of night and escape now that he knew I was safe. The thought of waking up and finding him gone had my chest feeling unusually heavy.
It was just Caldor and I left after Remus stumbled out the door. Rijjat had gone to the back of the tavern to speak with the man that owned the place—apparently, the two had important business to discuss, and I wasn't privy to it. But no matter, I was too drunk to care about Rijjat’s secrets right now.
I gulped down the warm ale in seconds, feeling my head spin, and knew it was time to call it a night and get some sleep. I would be regretting this tomorrow, but luckily I had a potion I could take that would take the edge off of the sickness.
I left the tavern and headed outside, making my way around the building in the dark. A staircase went up three levels to the rooms reserved for paying customers. I could hear moaning from the outside of the building, slapping skin and even screaming as the whores fucked their customers.
In another life, I might have been one of them had I followed through with running away once I found out about Waylan’s infidelity. I’d sincerely thought about it and would have been glad to make an honest living without the aid of a man to keep me alive. I held no ill will to the ladies of the night, and I applauded their ability to overlook the sweaty, grubby males that pawed at them day in and day out. It took a strong stomach to live that way.
I stumbled into the room I’d been given for the night. The hearth was blessedly lit, as was a bedside candle. A loaf of bread sat on a plate next to the candle, and a small piece of parchment was by it. I picked it up, my eyes running blurrily over the elegant scrawl.
It was a note from Rijjat, telling me to eat some bread, drink some water, and help myself to the nightgown on the hook. I looked over my shoulder, scanning the room and found a nearly sheer white nightgown dangling from a hook on the wall.
I grumbled as I discarded the note, burning it up in the candle until it crumbled to ash. Who did he think he was ordering me around like this?
Still, once the parchment was well and truly ash, I noticed a mug next to the candle as well, and upon sniffing its contents, I found it was water. I gulped the entire thing down in one go, groaning as the refreshing liquid coated my parched mouth. Then I tore a chunk out of the bread and angrily chewed it as I ripped the nightgown off the hook.
I was still grumbling as I removed my dirty clothes, kicking them into the corner of the room. The nightgown felt soft and luxurious against my skin, and I couldn’t help but run my fingers over it, twisting this way and that as the gauzy fabric swung around my ankles.
It wasn’t often that I allowed myself to feel beautiful or delicate. My dresses back in Avedin were practical and simple, made of rough fabrics that could be easily scrubbed clean of whatever kind of potion or concoction I might spill on it that day. But this gown was obviously something borrowed from one of the house ladies, something designed specifically to capture the male gaze.
My head spun, and I stumbled a bit. Feeling woozy, I moved to grab for my potions satchel but paused, my body going utterly rigid. Where was my satchel? Eyes wide, I scanned the room. I could have sworn I’d brought it up with me. Had I left it back in the tavern? This was bad. Very, very bad. If someone were to get ahold of the contents of that satchel, I could wake up to find the guard knocking down my door and dragging me to the gallows.
In a panic, I threw open the door to the room, forgetting for a moment that I was wearing nothing but a sheer gown, but before I could take a single step into the dimly lit corridor, I found myself face to face with a disheveled Caldor, clutching my leather satchel in his hand.
The potion had worn off, and I was now gazing into a pair of familiar dark blue eyes. Eyes that made my heart race and my throat close up. Eyes that were busy scanning me from head to toe in my dress and darkening by the second. “Caldor, what are you—”
His lips cut off whatever I was about to say as he backed me into the room, tossing my satchel on the floor. He kicked the door shut behind him, his mouth devouring mine in a frenzy. I barely had time to think as I thrust my fingers into his hair, gripping tightly as I pressed into his kiss.
He had me against the wall, kissing his way down the side of my neck as he undid the ties of the nightgown, letting it fall to the sides, exposing my bare breasts. My skin was on fire with every kiss and every touch, and I wanted more.
We were frantic as we peeled clothing from our bodies, me working his trousers and letting them fall to the floor while he kicked them away, him peeling off his shirt and throwing it somewhere behind him. I scratched at his back and gripped his shoulders as he lifted me by my thighs and hoisted me up against the wall.
Breathing heavily, Caldor laid his forehead against mine, his pupils wide and black with need as we breathed in each other's breath. “Only this time,” he whispered against my lips.
“Only this time,” I repeated right back. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was promising, but in the darkness of the room, with his hands on my heated skin, it seemed like the only logical answer.
How many times had I lied awake at night with my fingers inside myself, imagining it was his tongue? How many times did Waylan rut inside me while I squeezed my eyes shut and wished I was staring into a pair of dark blue eyes instead? This was wrong for so many reasons, I knew that. I should thrust him away and tell him to leave before we took this too far, but I was beyond that point now.
When he thrust into me, both of us groaned in unison as he buried his face in the crook of my neck and shoulder. He stilled for a moment as if savoring the warm feeling of being connected so intimately. Though our love was pure and fierce for all those years, we’d never been allowed to act on it in order to keep me pure for my future husband. All of those stolen kisses or touches couldn’t sate the lingering fire in my veins that yearned for him.
His hips began to move. Slowly at first until the pleasure was nearly agonizing. I needed to feel him deeper, harder and faster. I needed to feel Caldor everywhere—under my skin and in my soul. I didn’t care what the morning brought, all I cared about was how his body felt against mine.
Sweat slicked between us as he thrust in and out of me. My back hit the wall repeatedly, our moans mingling in the silence of the room with only the crackling of the hearth to accompany us. I moved my hips, swiveling them fluidly, making Caldor growl into my mouth as he kissed me harder and more fiercely than before.
I was no stranger to fucking. Waylan had me in every which way possible over the years, as was a husband’s right, but this was something else entirely. I never knew that pleasure could be so utterly exquisite, to the point that I felt like clawing out of my skin just to feel more and more and more.
His hands were everywhere at once as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of my skin. The room was impossibly hot, and it was becoming harder to breathe. But I didn’t care. Who needed air when they could have the breath of the one they craved?
He moved as if he knew exactly what he was doing, and an errant thought hit me. Was I his first? Surely not. His movements were too fluid, too practiced. Names and faces flitted through my head, wondering who it was. Was it a lady? A whore? A friend?
Suddenly it was all I could think about as I gripped him tighter to my body. My nails dug into his skin, anchoring him there as he moaned in response to the pain.
“If you only knew how many times I dreamt of your taste…” he whispered into my ear, his hot breath tickling my skin and lifting the hairs at my nape. I moaned at his slurred words as he picked up speed, slamming me into the wall. “Tell me, Mara, did you ever feel me when you were with him?” My eyes flew open as I craned my head back, meeting his suddenly rage-filled eyes. “Answer me,” he grunted, straining with the effort to hold himself back.
