Page 35 of Insolence (Eisha’s Hidden Codices #1)

Itissa

A s soon as the cold air hits me after lunch, something shifts in my fevered brain.

The constant, low-simmering dread picking at the corners of my mind falls still. A soft sense of ease unwinds through me while I kneel between rows of winter cabbage. My garden wagon is about half-full when the gloomy sky breaks open.

The previously frigid, overcast day lights up with golden sunshine. The mountain mist begins to burn off.

I breathe a happy sigh, abandoning the head of cabbage I’ve been half-heartedly wrestling to tilt my face skyward. Tossing aside my gloves, I let out a low hum of rapture.

My internal radiator is rekindled, so I unfasten my cloak and shrug it off. For what feels like the first time since I’ve been here, I can actually breathe .

Giddiness flits through me.

My gaze drops to the flower greenhouse. Elodie’s figure, clad only in shirtsleeves, fitted trousers, and tall, flat-soled boots, moves at her unhurried pace. An avian-shaped lump keeps her company.

The thread quivers and vibrates between us like a telegraph coming down a wire. I’m on my feet and stumbling to the glass structure in an instant—a fish reeled in on a line.

I’m through the door and dropping into the wrought iron chair before I realize to what degree I no longer have control of my limbs.

The best part is I don’t even care.

Bibi croaks a greeting, her feathers fluffing up. She’s perched on the iron bistro table at the end of the greenhouse, opposite the tiny stove. Behind her, clay seedling pots are stacked on the table.

Kneeling at her planters, the priestess has a pair of snippers in her hand.

“It’s unbelievably muggy in here,” I drawl. “I don’t know how you stand it.”

“Low blood pressure.” Mask in place, Elodie peeks over her shoulder. “Anywhere else, I’m always cold.”

“Interesting,” I purr. But I couldn’t be less interested—at least, not in the blood pressure issue.

I’m far more invested in the fine figure she cuts at the end of the flagstone aisle, framed against her precious roses.

“You didn’t seem cold in that crevice behind the Orrery Tower.” I have no idea where the courage to say it comes from.

But I also know I’m not making the decisions anymore. I’m no longer the one in control.

She stiffens. Voice husky and heady like cigar smoke and whiskey, she says, “That was different.”

Sure it was different. I giggle. Your leg was between my thighs . Leaning back in the chair, I let myself sag. “You know, we haven’t spent a minute alone together since the party.”

“I have duties, Tiss. As do you.” The rich, smoky tone sends a flutter through my stomach. “You should probably get back to yours.”

Winter flowers overflow their boxes on either side of the aisle. Watching a butterfly alight on the velvety, crimson petals of a chrysanthemum, I feel tipsy. Nearly drunk.

“I’ll just take a short break.” Under its own power, my hand rises to the front of my chambray shirt. “The cabbages aren’t going anywhere, I promise.”

Absorbed in trimming her roses, the high priestess grunts but doesn’t argue. The stove in the corner gives a quiet ping as my fingers work, plucking open my buttons one by one.

Perhaps it's the abrupt lack of inhibitions, but something about my perception shifts ever so slightly. And yet, the change in perspective is everything .

Sunshine fills the cozy glasshouse. Glancing around, I take in every intricate leaf and petal edged in golden light. Pollen and dust motes drift and dazzle, swirling through the air like silt stirred up at the bottom of a very clear pond.

It’s a gorgeous day.

I breathe deeply, inhaling the flowers’ perfume, and my heart throbs with gladness. Everything suddenly feels right and good . I feel truly happy for the first time since before I can remember.

Then, as I admire the kneeling priestess, something like a magnifying lens drops into position. It corrects my up-to-now unrealized myopia.

Oh. I sigh, feeling foolish that I’m only now noticing—the person inside of Elodie’s body is distinctly and decidedly no longer a woman.

Not today.

“Besides,” I murmur, breathing in the roses’ perfume, “I have a question for you.”

In fact, he’s very obviously a man. Which also seems right and good .

“Something we discussed in class?”

Today isn’t the first time I’ve encountered him, either. “No.”

“Well. Like I told you. There are things I can’t discuss.”

“Mm. I remember.” Shirt undone to my abdomen, I tug the open edges further apart. Air on my damp skin is a sweet respite, but it isn’t enough to soothe the ardor blistering my veins. “It’s just that you seem… not your normal self today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s almost as if—” I’m inebriated and reckless with the shimmering, redolent air and the heat bubbling through my blood. “You’re not Elodie anymore, are you?”

His spine goes rigid. Trimmers paused in mid-air, he stares dead ahead.

And I am no longer Tiss… A delectable laugh escapes me. “I mean, you’re still you , but you’re not a woman. Not right now. The day before the lottery was the same.” Anticipation curls and twists in my belly. “So, who are you, priestess?”

The thread between us pulls taut before it ignites. My back arches up from the chair.

“Not that question,” he growls. “Pick a different question.”

Bibi gives a low, guttural sound, plunging her beak into her plumage to groom herself.

But he didn’t deny it. The last tethers of my flagging self-control snap, revealing a steep rift where something primal, something wicked and dominant and insidious, lurks. Hulking, its features are indistinguishable.

This creature, I realize, is power. Beautiful, unfathomable might. And I am fascinated .

My hand draws upward, fingers skimming my stomach to my chest. “It’s all right.” I brush light touches over the delicate camisole covering my brassiere. “I won’t tell anybody, and I certainly don’t mind.”

“And I said I’m not discussing it,” he grits out. “So let it go. Or get out.”

Playfully petulant, I slide down on the chair, letting my knee-length skirt roll up under me until the humid air caresses my thighs . “Do you ever think about that day before the lottery? In the annex?”

Elodie makes a noise.

“Gods,” I sigh, letting my head drop onto the chairback, caressing my sensitive breasts. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Rapacious hunger dissolves my bones, engulfing me as if I’m tissue paper in a blazing hearth. My face and neck flush, my eyes sliding shut. I have no doubt I’m leaking pheromones like a fiend.

A tok-tok sound comes from Bibi.

Elodie gives a choked gasp and rumbles, “Cut it out, Tiss.”

When my eyes fly open, he’s scowling at me, twisting obliquely to take me in from where he’s still kneeling by the planters. Realizing what I’m doing, his brows bunch low over chips of polished agate that bore clean through me.

“If you say so.” Holding his stare, I lower my hand. But there’s no going backward and no reining in the hungry predator that is no longer merely inside of me.

The predator has become me now. And I am famished beyond all reason…

Elodie’s gaze drops, fixating on my handiwork. My shirt is wide open over my chest, the chambray linen sliding down one shoulder. I know from experience that my nipples are subtly visible through my thin, white undergarments.

They strain against the fabric, puckered hard.

“So help me, Tiss . The entire temple can see you. ” His nostrils flare. The glare that glides down my body isn’t unlike a threat.

I love every second of it.

“I believe your exact words were, ‘If I had my way, I’d pick you up right now, throw you on that desk’—”

“ Enough .” Elodie shoots to his feet, rage radiating off of him in waves to rival the swirling motes. “Cover. Yourself. The fuck up.”

Bibi flexes her wings from her perch, neck extending with a hiss . The pots stacked behind her shake precariously.

“ Now ,” rumbles Elodie.

Gods help me, the monster inside responds with a booming, carnal howl that screams through my every molecule, severing the final fibers of decency I’ve been clinging onto—

Although, now that I think about it, I can’t remember why .

“Mmm.” I run my hand down my body, reaching under my skirt and between my legs. “Come over here and make me.”

“ Red ,” barks Elodie. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late,” I sigh, caressing myself through soaking wet panties.

It…

feels…

wonderful…

Jaw set with rage, he glances through fogged glass—then back to me. A rustle of feathers comes from Bibi’s perch, but the raven barely registers on my radar anymore.

Shoving my skirt out of the way, I pull the drenched crotch of my underwear to one side.

Another choked sound emerges from the priestess, his mouth opening to yell or threaten or scold.

Before a single word can emerge, I plunge two fingers into my own wet heat. “I’m drenched for you,” I breathe, stroking myself slowly as he gapes. “ Dripping .”

Curling my knuckles, I knead into myself just right. My lashes flutter, sparks scattering up my spine and down my legs.

He lurches forward, ripping off his gloves and stalking down the aisle separating us. Bibi squawks behind him, wings flapping. Pots topple, clay shattering on flagstone with a crash.

I don’t dare look away, holding his steely regard as if his sight line is the anchor keeping me from dissolving into complete pandemonium.

Rocking my hand, I pound my own pussy, letting a lewd moan tear through my throat. The relief is ludicrous .