Page 19 of Her Fallen Angel

18

ARENWEN

I gaze up at Kai as I help fasten the intricate buckles of his leather armor, letting my fingertips brush against his skin more than necessary. His violet eyes flicker down to meet mine, darkening at the deliberate slowness of my movements.

"The straps need to be tighter, little flame." His voice carries that edge of command that makes my breath catch.

I pull the leather strap with more force, feeling the solid muscle beneath tense at my touch. Heat radiates from his skin as I work, and I find myself memorizing each scar that marks his warrior's frame. My hands trail along his arm as I secure the next piece, noting how his wings shift slightly behind him.

"You're being bold today." The words rumble from his chest, but he remains still, allowing my lingering touches.

"I want to serve you well." I keep my eyes lowered, but my fingers continue their unhurried path across his armor. He's right. I've been growing tired of waiting and now I want to entice him.

I want him . But I have to wait for him to give into me again, and it's killing me.

His hand catches my chin, tilting my face up. Those violet eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes my heart race. "Do you now?"

I wet my lips, watching his gaze track the movement. "Yes, sir."

The air grows thick with tension as I move to the final pieces of his armor. My hands shake slightly as I work, hyper-aware of his predatory stillness. Each brush of skin against skin feels charged with possibility.

His wings cast shadows across us both as I finish the last buckle, but I don't step back. Instead, I remain close, waiting. Hoping. The power radiating from him fills the space between us, and I find myself craving his next command with an intensity that should frighten me.

"What game are you playing, little flame?" His voice drops lower, dangerous.

"No game." I keep my voice soft, submissive, even as my fingers trace one final path down his armored chest. "I only want to please you."

He grunts, looks me up and down, and then turns to leave. I stay put, hating the way the house feels so quiet once he's gone.

The emptiness of the room weighs on me as I straighten the bed linens and arrange the pillows just how he likes them. My fingers linger on the silk sheets, remembering the heat of his skin beneath my hands.

I settle onto my pallet at the foot of his bed, but meditation eludes me. Instead, my mind drifts to the way his wings cast shadows over me, how his violet eyes darken when I please him.

Restless, I rise, moving through his room as I look for something to distract me. I pause at his wardrobe, running my hand along the leather and metal of his spare armor. The scent of him clings to everything - smoke and steel and power.

My chest aches at the realization that no one tends to these pieces but me. No one else sees how he relaxes, just slightly, when I brush his hair back from his face. No one knows that he lets out the smallest sigh when I kneel beside him or clean his hair.

No one sees the things that I do.

The courtyard calls to me, and I slip outside to my usual spot. But instead of my normal prayers, I find myself planning ways to draw out those rare moments of vulnerability. Like mastering the intricate braiding style warriors wear into battle. Something that will keep my hands on him

"It's just devotion," I whisper to myself, but the words ring hollow. The truth burns deeper - I want to be the one he trusts, the one who tends to more than just his armor. Even if it means losing pieces of myself in the process.

I close my eyes, feeling the sun warm my skin. My prayers today are different - not for salvation or strength, but for the wisdom to navigate this dangerous path I've chosen. To find ways to please him while keeping enough of myself intact to actually help him.

The sun dips low as I wait for Kai's return, my fingers drumming against the dining table I've set with precise care. Every goblet, every piece of silverware sits exactly where he prefers. Steam rises from the covered dishes, carrying the rich aroma of roasted meat through the air.

My heart skips when I hear his wings before I see him. The sound of feathers cutting through air precedes his entrance, and I straighten my spine, hands clasped before me.

"Welcome home." I keep my voice soft as he strides in, his presence filling the room like a gathering storm.

Without waiting for his command, I move behind him, reaching for the first buckle of his armor. My fingers work with practiced ease, but I let them linger longer than necessary against his skin. His wings twitch at my touch when I brush against a sensitive spot near their base.

"The bath is ready," I murmur, sliding the chest piece free. Each layer reveals more of him - battle-scarred skin that I've memorized like scripture.

In the bathing chamber, steam curls around us as I help him into the water. My sleeves grow damp as I work soap across his shoulders, tracing the line of old scars. His violet eyes track my every movement.

During dinner, I pour his wine with deliberate slowness, pressing closer than proper service requires. My hip brushes his shoulder as I lean across to place fresh bread before him. Another touch - my fingers grazing his when I pass the salt.

His hand shoots out, wrapping around my throat. The pressure isn't enough to cut off air, but it's a clear warning. Instead of pulling away, I let my head fall back, offering more of my neck to his grip. My pulse races against his palm.

"You're playing with fire, little flame." His thumb traces my racing pulse.

I swallow against his hold. "Perhaps that's where I belong."

His grip on my throat tightens just enough to make my breath hitch. Those violet eyes bore into mine, searching for something I'm not sure I want him to find.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that makes my skin prickle.

I can't look away from him, trapped in his predatory gaze. My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Yes, sir."

His answering grin sends heat coursing through me - all sharp edges and dark promise. His thumb traces one last path along my throat before he releases me. "Good. That's exactly what you should be. Always wanting, always desperate for my touch."

I sway slightly when he stands, his wings casting shadows over me. Before I can steady myself, his hand cracks against my ass with enough force to make me gasp. The sting spreads like wildfire across my skin.

"Go to the room, little flame. Think of me while you're alone." He leans close, his breath hot against my ear. "Think of all the ways you want to please me."

The dismissal burns worse than the smack. I force myself to walk away with measured steps, though every fiber of my being screams to turn back, to beg for more of his attention. My skin still tingles where he touched me, phantom pressure around my throat making it hard to swallow.

In my room, I press my forehead against the cool stone wall. Prayers tangle with darker thoughts as I replay the feeling of his hand on my throat, the sting of his palm against me. I want to prove myself worthy of more than these fleeting touches. Want to show him how deep my devotion runs.

The need to please him consumes me like holy fire, burning away everything I used to be. And still, I crave more.