Page 73 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Forty-Three

Alain was stretched out on the single bed, his back against the headboard and a thick book propped open on his chest. He read it in the warm glow of the oil lamp on the bedside table. His pounding head and aching body begged him to get some rest. Yet, he continued to read.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d read about an obfuscation ward to create a dense fog.

The spell had been developed in the fourth century, so with any hope, it would be similar to the one protecting the Innominate Temple.

Using Declan’s scroll as a baseline, he could reverse-engineer this obfuscation ward and create his own counterspell. But that would require—

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

The ward he’d placed only protected him from faulty spellcasting; it did nothing to dampen the sounds coming from inside or outside his room.

He wished he’d taken the time to place a soundproofing ward.

The walls in this inn were nearly as thin as its mattresses, and all these interruptions were making it difficult to concentrate.

A heated argument had erupted from one of the rooms down the hall.

But worse still was his travel companions’ uproarious laughter.

The sound of Neldren’s voice was especially grating on Alain’s last frayed nerve.

“It’s me,” said Mavery’s voice through the closed door. “Are you still awake?”

Well, there was at least one sound he didn’t mind.

“Yes,” he said. “Come in, it’s unlocked.”

The door swung open, and the air rippled as Mavery passed through the protective ward.

He could only imagine this room was similar to her former accommodations at the boarding house: cramped, dusty, and with furniture that favored function over comfort.

Though Mavery was likely as road weary as he was, she was nonetheless an exquisite sight. Too exquisite for this dingy room.

“Are you planning to come back downstairs?” she asked.

“And be further lambasted by your former lover who very clearly despises me? No, thank you. I can think of better ways to spend my evening.” He gestured to his book. “This, for instance.”

“I know he’s an ass, but it’s not personal. His line of work has left him with a poor opinion of wizards as a whole.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time he throws an insult in my direction.” Alain turned a page. “Go on, don’t let me ruin your fun.”

She snorted. “Yes, I’m having a rip-roaring time with Neldren, Ellice, and their soon-to-be newest accomplice.” She took a step forward, closed the door behind her. “I’d much rather spend my evening with you, assuming you don’t mind the company.”

He looked up from the book with a smile. “I will never turn down your company. Come here.”

She locked the door and kicked off her boots before clambering over the foot of the ramshackle bed.

With every movement, the wooden frame creaked, the mattress rustled.

How Alain missed his bed filled with cotton and reinforced with box springs.

And that was to make no mention of the plush blankets and feather pillows.

He shifted, wincing as a lump prodded his ribcage. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“A bit,” she said, making a similar expression as she settled between his body and the wall. She peered at his book. “What are you reading?”

He began to explain his plan for creating a counterspell, but after a few sentences, her eyes glazed over. Her gaze lingered on a point in the vicinity of his mouth.

“I’ve completely lost you, haven’t I?” he asked.

“I caught maybe the first half. For what it’s worth, I do love watching you talk, even when I’m not following a word of it.”

Her eyes met his, and a carnal gleam indicated that spellcraft was the furthest thing from her mind.

Taking the hint, he put the book aside, then turned until they lay face to face.

He brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen across her eye, caressed her face as he’d done while lying together on a far superior bed.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For convincing me to not make this journey alone. What I did last year was a mistake, but going it alone would have been equally foolish. You were right. I do need your help. And, loath as I am to admit it, I may even need Neldren’s—”

“Shh.” She placed her index finger on his lips. “No more talking about him, or spells, or even the temple. In fact…” She shifted closer, until the tips of their noses were barely touching. “I’m not much in the mood for talking.”

He smiled. “What a coincidence. I’m not in the mood for that, either.”

He drew her in for a kiss that began soft and slow. The moment his tongue slipped into her mouth, her hands began to roam. Over these past days, they’d explored each other’s bodies while fully clothed and beneath bedsheets. Tonight was the first opportunity to see what they’d only imagined.

One of her hands cupped his chin while the other trailed the length of his spine, grasped his arse, and gave it a firm squeeze.

He emitted a moan of surprise, then wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer.

Their arms entangled while their fingers sought every inch of exposed skin.

One of her hands meandered to the front of his shirt.

She pulled the fabric free from his waistband, and he shivered as her fingers brushed his bare stomach.

But when her hand slipped into his trousers, they both paused.

“Oh,” Mavery said. “Seems you’re not ready yet. Well, not to worry…”

She wrapped her fingers around his length as she resumed kissing him. But her efforts proved ineffective; he remained as soft as before.

Damn it…

He squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on Mavery’s touch, hoping he could manifest a great surge of arousal, that he could will every drop of blood to flow where he needed it most. But it was no use.

It never was when his body was this fatigued, his mind this full.

Mavery’s free hand rested on his cheek, and behind his eyelids, he saw brief flashes of Vara’s disappointment, Conor’s frustration.

He feared what he would see this time when he opened his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can assure you, this has nothing to do with you. I find you incredibly desirable. It’s—”

“Alain, it’s all right.”

He opened his eyes at last. Mavery’s gaze was soft, and though she wore a slight frown, it seemed more out of concern than frustration, or even disappointment.

“I understand,” she said. “It’s been a rough couple of days. Maybe we should both turn in for the night, get some rest.”

“Yes—I mean no. I need this. I need to…”

I need to know I’m adequate. As adequate as the man downstairs, at any rate.

She sighed. “Is this because of Neldren?”

His eyes widened. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she was a Mystic. Perhaps his thoughts truly were that obvious.

“How did you…?”

She laughed softly as she stroked his cheek.

Though her touch was feather-soft, it left his skin scorching.

“He tends to have that effect on people. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.

” She leaned closer, whispered, “Whatever we do together, I know it’s going to be wonderful. Because it’s you I want, not him.”

Gods, did he love her. He wanted to give her what she’d already given him several times over. He didn’t care if she couldn’t return the favor.

He kissed her firmly, catching her lower lip between both of his. As he tried to deepen the kiss, she pulled back.

“We don’t have to,” she said. “Only if you want—”

“I do. And don’t worry, I’m going to enjoy this as much as you will.” He smiled. “Well, almost.”

He guided her onto her back, then made short work of unbuttoning her trousers, sliding them and her drawers down her legs, tossing both to the floor.

That he’d once become flustered at the sight of her bare calves seemed preposterous now.

Here she lay before him, exposed from the waist down, and his only desire was to touch every inch of her.

He began by following the curve of her calf.

His touch was lighter than air as it skimmed across her bad knee.

But he then applied more pressure to her thigh, to fully appreciate the firm ridges of her muscles, the soft curve of her hip.

She gasped as his fingers moved inward, lingering on her inner thigh.

When he reached the point where her thighs joined, her eyes closed with a soft moan.

That sound would have been enough to bring him close to the edge, had his heart and the rest of his body been on the same page tonight—or in the same book, for that matter.

He hadn’t bedded a woman in years, but it didn’t take long for old instincts to return. He started with slow, methodical strokes. Each blissful sigh that escaped her lips urged him to go a bit faster. When he slipped a fingertip inside her, her breath hitched.

“Yes, just like that,” she breathed. “I want you inside me.”

He leaned down to kiss her as he obliged, starting with a single finger. When he added a second, she whimpered while clutching the bedsheets.

“Should I place a soundproofing ward?” he whispered, his lips close enough to graze hers.

“No,” she whispered back. “Don’t stop.”

He nodded, then continued his intimate caress.

When the pad of his thumb brushed the most sensitive part of her, she arched her back and released another moan; this time, it echoed through the room.

Her hand then traveled downward to meet his.

At first, he worried he’d touched her incorrectly.

But as they locked eyes, he realized she wanted them to work in tandem: her fingers drew small circles while his continued to glide in and out of her.

They quickened their pace together, sharing the same labored breaths.

She writhed beneath him, rolling her hips to allow him to touch her more deeply.

He did so without hesitation, relishing how her slick warmth enveloped his fingers, how she trembled around him as she reached her peak.

When she began to cry out again, he leaned down and smothered her orgasm with a kiss.

Her voice resonated through his body as his pace slowed, helping her ride out the wave. Only then did he ease out of her.

She lay beside him, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as she recovered from her euphoria. All of this had been his doing, he realized with a touch of pride—and relief.

He raised his hand, gazed at his fingers. On impulse, he slipped one into his mouth. Her taste—sharp but with an undercurrent of sweetness—was so undoubtedly her, his eyes closed as a moan sounded from the back of his throat.

“All this time, I’d been wanting to taste you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Next time, I’m going to savor you.”

He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, mouth agape. A chill ran through him. Had he come on too strongly just now? Of course, not every woman found pleasure in that sort of thing. Perhaps he’d presumed too much.

But then she grasped him by the shirt and pulled him down into a kiss that was all heat and ferocity. Her lips and tongue were clumsy, her fingers pulled at his hair. He kissed her back, though he struggled to keep apace.

No, if anything, he hadn’t come on strongly enough.

When she palmed the front of his trousers, she once again found only slackened fabric. She broke the kiss and took a desperate gulp of air.

“Even after all that,” she gasped, “still nothing?”

He sighed. “I’m afraid so. But rest assured, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you come undone.” He placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “The next time we share a bed, I promise we’ll do much more than this.”

“The next time we share a bed, it had better be large enough for two.” She winced as she readjusted her position. “And more comfortable.”

“Yes, that will be nonnegotiable,” he said with a laugh, then sealed that promise with another kiss.