Page 20

Chapter 20

Pleasure he too, was tired of all this pain.

He gripped her curved hips, groaning as the wetness between her legs soaked into his pants, deepening the kiss as her melodic moans sent blood pumping into his cock. She’d asked him to unravel her—every last part—and damn him if her added request didn’t make his need for her become something ravenous.

“I want you,” she whispered into his mouth, “all of you.”

He nipped her bottom lip. “So eager, are we?”

His groin ached at how her brows dipped, the way she nodded her head feverishly. But it was too soon to fill her. He wanted to take his godsdamn time with this woman, something he hadn’t desired in many years.

“What about what I want, Sylzenya?” he teased, grinding his length against her.

She whimpered, clutching his neck with her fingers. “Isn’t that what most men want?”

He smiled against her mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Her body stilled, breaths brushing along his lips.

“Yes,” she whispered, “I do.”

Desire rushed through his muscles as he carried her to his bed. Gently, he lay on his back, Sylzenya straddling him, her tits spilling against her robe, begging to be released and covered by his tongue.

But he would do that soon enough.

“Sit on my face,” he instructed.

Her eyes widened, color rushing to her cheeks.

“That Dynami you fucked really didn’t know much, did he?”

She shook her head, a smile peeling across her lips as her throat bobbed.

“Are you sure?” she questioned, “Because you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Sylzenya,” he sat up on his elbows, stroking his thumb along the bottom of her lip, “I think you know by now I’m a rather selfish man, and so anything I ask of you, no matter how charitable it may sound, always benefits me.”

Her chest heaved, those perfect tits flushed with color as her lips parted. She was hesitant, believed it was a sacrifice on his part to pleasure her. Oh, but how wrong she was. Her pleasure was his, and he needed to make it clear just how badly he needed it.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered, “So sit on my face. ”

Crawling, she spread her legs, revealing her perfect dripping cunt. He groaned, grabbing her hips and lowering her down. In one languid motion he ran his tongue along her swollen skin; the way she moaned his name was somehow even sweeter than her taste.

He’d almost decided to not live to see this day; not live a life where he would meet this woman who, despite all their differences, understood the pain of life, and yet lived it anyways. A woman whose tenacity and compassion for others had bolstered his own, someone he could speak to freely and trust with his deepest secrets.

Yet another reason to thank Orym for that day at the cliffside.

With every lick, every stroke on her throbbing lips, he felt each painful memory of his distant past disappear, replaced with her warm skin, heated breaths, and soft hair. Need stoked into unrelenting desire. Running his tongue back and forth, he circled that small, swollen part of her, his hands wandering up her silk robe and finding her full breasts.

Gods help me.

Her cries took him away from the scars seared into his back, as if every word she spoke and touch of her body healed parts of himself.

“Please,” she whimpered, “Elnok, please . I need you.”

Her words undid him. Spreading her quivering legs, he slid underneath her. Her hands fumbled for his pants then she dragged them off his hips, his hard cock standing upright. She gripped him, slowly sliding her hand up and down his shaft, sending a moan out of his lips.

“Can I?” she asked, licking her lips.

Elnok gulped. “Is that what you want?”

She nodded. “Tell me how.”

Realization thrummed through his chest—she’d been intimate before, but she’d never done this before. But he could tell by her determined gaze she meant what she said—she wanted his cock in her mouth. And godsdamn him, if that didn’t make him pulse in her grip.

“You can start slow,” he instructed, voice low, “Licking, exploring, and when you’re comfortable, you can take as much of me as you want.”

Fingers digging into the sheets, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning; she took him so damn well.

And yet he didn’t deserve this. Pain had been his companion since his parents died, marked into his skin, a sign of how unwanted he was in this world. As if she heard his thoughts, she stopped, eyes peering up through her long lashes, those deep blue eyes bringing him back to this moment—to her.

“I want you, Elnok.”

Everything within him died at those words. He wanted her too, needed her. But he hadn’t been able to afford a contraceptive medicine in years.

“If you’re concerned at all, a girl’s womb is turned barren the first time she uses Aretta’s power.”

His stomach sank. “You give so much for this life.”

“And I don’t regret it,” she said, slowly crawling on top of him. Her calloused hand caught on his skin as she glided it over his chest, bringing it up to cradle his jaw.

“Will you regret this?”

Her eyes searched him, and he felt as if he’d asked the sea if it could survive without the waves, if its depths could still be a mystery if it was shallow.

“Will you?” she whispered.

He gripped his hardened cock, watching as she lowered herself onto him, slowly, carefully.

“I could never regret you.”

She sank herself onto him, whimpering into his mouth as he claimed her lips, teeth, and tongue. He pierced into her, and she ground against him; he lost all sense of where his body started and hers ended. Pain and power and sorrow intermingled with pleasure and light and desire. They shared all of it between their skin—sweat and blood, tears and prayers.

She broke their kiss, hiding in the nape of his neck as he held her steady, any gentleness leaving them as he pulled her hair and she scratched his back, their breaths and moans echoing as their voices met together in a shared cry for mercy and pleasure.

It was as if this one moment, here with her, was all life had been created for. As they rode waves upon waves of desperate need, he couldn’t remember why he would’ve wanted to be anywhere else.

And then everything stilled.

Pleasure rolled off of his body, onto hers, and then pooled around them in a still, quiet sort of peace. He folded into her, and she buried her face into his skin, whispering words he didn’t understand as if they were ancient prayers breathed into his body—as if he was the one being worshiped when she was the one who deserved it all.

Sylzenya kissed his forehead, retreating to their bathing room and returning with cloths. He praised her body as he wiped his remnants off her, and she spoke terribly dirty things as she cleaned him. He laughed, embracing her as he fell onto the bed, tangling his legs with hers.

“Who did this to you?” Sylzenya asked, a single nail wandering along the scars on his back.

Normally he would’ve closed off the conversation, retreated into himself, or made some crass joke about being whipped by a past lover. But as he looked into her eyes, those deep blue irises that reminded him so much of the sea, he kissed her hand.

“My brother,” he replied, intertwining his fingers with hers, “After my parents were assassinated, he went mad, drinking all the wine he could get his hands on. He was convinced that I would do anything I could to take the Crown from him, even plan to murder him. I wanted no such thing.”

Her brow furrowed, her thumb brushing his. “The wine reminds you of him.”

“It’s an unfortunate association,” he scoffed. “He kept me in the dungeons for six months, declaring me on trial for believing I’d murdered our parents. He got an iron rod shaped in our Vutrorian family symbol and used it to torture me for a confession, saying this was the closest form of a crown I’d ever receive. I finally escaped to a village on the coast where I met Orym and became quite a nuisance as a village thief. I’m sure you’ve gathered by now my princely duties have been left far behind me.”

Eyes glistening, Sylzenya squeezed his hand. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

She whispered his name, wiping a tear he hadn’t realized ran down his cheek.

“I suppose we both bear pain on our backs from those we love, don’t we?” she asked.

His heart stalled in his chest. Stroking her neck, he pulled her in, kissing her warm full lips. Sliding closer, she ran a gentle hand along his back, his cock hardening again as he looped her leg over his hip, heat growing between them as he lost himself in her scent. She knew what he felt, understood the complexity of his life with barely a word.

A loud knock sounded on the door.

Shock ruptured through his spine as they pushed off each other. Sylzenya scrambled off the bed, finding her robe and holding it in her hand.

“Sylzenya?” The innkeeper, Helena called through the door, “You have some visitors.”

Elnok turned to her, confusion set in his face.

She seemed just as confused as he did, which meant meeting with someone in the dead of night wasn’t some Estean cultural expectation. They both glanced at the compass, and then back at each other.

Panic sliced through his skin as he grabbed the compass, motioning for her to say something—to stall Helena.

“Um, Helena, so sorry, I’ll be right there,” she said, her voice sounding as if she’d just woken up.

“Please hurry, dear. They wish to see the prince as well.”

They dressed quickly. Elnok took down his rope and attached it to his belt, giving Sylzenya the compass, which she pocketed in her bloodied Kreena robe. Heart racing, he took Sylzenya’s hand before she opened the door.

“We should run,” he whispered.

Sylzenya shook her head, squeezing his hand. “If we tried, they’d suspect something. The best thing we can do is present just as we have the last few days. If they ask about the healing pool, we lie, for no one saw us. Even Kharis doesn’t know where we collected the compass.”

“This is a gamble.”

“It’s this or fully expose ourselves by running or hiding. We’d inevitably get caught, and there would be unavoidable consequences. At least in this we have a chance at keeping the compass hidden and sticking to our plan for tomorrow.”

Elnok’s instinct still screamed for them to run, but Sylzenya was right. Outside of this kingdom, hiding was simple. There were villages and ships, factions of people who opposed or supported one another, more land that stretched the distances and with it, buried names. But here, there was only the temple, barracks, village, and forest. The High One’s rules were obeyed by all.

They were trapped.

“Very well,” Elnok replied, letting go of her hand as Sylzenya opened the door.

Helena wrung her hands as two people stood on either side of her: a woman with dark hair and pale skin, her Kreena robe decorated with fresh blood, and her golden eyes downcast; a man donned in Dynami armor, his golden hair tied in a topknot, and the orodyte on his chest glowing a bright yellow.

“Nyla,” Sylzenya whispered.

“Kharis,” Elnok breathed.

“Yes, um, they’ve requested to speak with you both,” Helena said, motioning to the only two people in all of Estea who had any information about what Elnok and Sylzenya had been planning. “There are sweets and various drinks in the breakfast nook.”

Kharis coughed.

“Oh, yes,” Helena said swiftly, “And wine, of course.”

“Sylzenya, Prince Elnok,” Kharis said, “If you would join us.”

Elnok snarled at the glass of wine Kharis poured for him.

All four of them sat at a wooden table decorated with bright flowers and white doilies, Helena’s breakfast nook a well of pastel colors and fanciful designs.

Elnok traced the hilt of his hidden dagger.

Kharis folded his hands as he asked Elnok, “Are you still in possession of the compass?”

Strained silence stretched between the four of them.

“We plan to see the High One tomorrow for the treaty revisions,” Elnok finally answered. “It’s during that time we’ll give him the compass to do as he sees fit.”

“I see.” Kharis unfolded his hands. “I think the matter of the compass is far more dire than either of you realize, so, I’d urge us to go meet with the High One and discuss it with him now.”

“Now?” Elnok laughed, “Kharis, it’s the middle of the night.”

“What do you mean a dire matter?” Sylzenya interjected.

Kharis turned to Nyla. She gave him a nod, as if they’d made a plan of how they were to conduct themselves.

“An acolyte almost died yesterday,” Nyla said, “She was newly ordained and had just begun using her power. So, when she went to the healing pool, she didn’t understand how it worked. A priestess had left her to heal, and when she came back, the girl was lying on the floor, her blood everywhere.”

Elnok instinctively grabbed his dagger’s hilt.

“How?” Sylzenya asked, but they already knew the answer.

“The healing pool no longer heals.”

The compass. Its piece of bark from the tree; the pool couldn’t heal without it in the water.

Shit.

Everything had happened so fast: the monster, the compass, Sylzenya’s initial desire to tell the High One. They’d made an oversight.

A damn important one.

Kharis interjected, “After hearing this matter, I realized how strange it was that, just as you two had found the compass, the healing pool simultaneously could no longer heal the backs of acolytes and Kreenas. So,” he paused, staring at Elnok, “I must ask we go and return the compass to the High One this instant, that way the healing pool can be restored. We’ll advocate for you both, saying how it was an honest mistake, not an attempted murder.”

Elnok’s body turned rigid.

“Or, you can both join us as we find the tree,” Sylzenya argued. “Think about it, we wouldn’t have to rely on only the healing pool anymore. If we had the tree’s location, we could get enough power and healing to sustain not just the current acolytes and Kreenas, but more. Maybe we could even help the outlanders; we could help fight the famine and sickness not just in Estea, but outside of it. We could finish what Aretta had tried to all those centuries ago.”

Elnok’s chest burned with light at Sylzenya’s words. But judging by Nyla’s and Kharis’ faces, there would be no convincing them. Dread slithered along his spine.

“Sylzenya,” Nyla urged, “now isn’t the time to fantasize. We need to return this or else more acolytes and Kreenas could get hurt, myself included.”

“It isn’t fantasizing,” Sylzenya said, revealing the compass, its needle bark glowing and still pointing south, “We have its location. We could make real change with it.”

“The High One requests you bring it to him immediately,” Kharis stated.

Elnok crumpled a doily in his fist. “He requests it? As in… he already knows we have it?”

The Dynami let out a deep breath. “Yes. I told him.”

“ Damn it , Kharis.” Elnok slammed his fist, a well of anger he’d been holding since his meeting with the warrior yesterday spilling over. “ You were the one who convinced me to find this damn tree in the first place. You warned me to not trust the High One. What’s wrong with you ?”

“You didn’t get him to drink the wine yet?” Nyla asked, looking at Kharis. “He vomited the plum I gave him two days ago.”

“What the fuck are you two talking abou?—?”

Sylzenya’s chair screeched as she stood, grabbing his hand. “Elnok, we need to go. Now .”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kharis said.

The orodyte on his chest pulsed a bright yellow, his eyes flickering like torches, his veins crackling along his arms and neck with magic.

“ Come on ,” Sylzenya shouted.

Elnok didn’t hesitate as he dashed out of the inn with her, Nyla screaming Sylzenya’s name as he unsheathed his dagger. The square was empty except for the wine fountain in the center and lightning bugs hovering just below the trees. Their footsteps echoed along the stone ground as their breaths heaved through their lungs. A door swung open, glass shattering. Elnok didn’t need to look back to know Kharis was coming for them.

“We can hide in the foliage up ahead!” Sylzenya yelled.

He obeyed, running as fast as he could, the shaded pathway almost within reach, but then, light erupted and blinded them.

“Seize them!” a deep voice boomed.

Elnok blindly waved his dagger in front of him, holding onto Sylzenya’s hand with all his might as footsteps rapidly approached them.

“Elnok, don’t let go!” Sylzenya shouted.

He squeezed harder, fighting to stay standing and to see what was happening, but then strong hands and built bodies slammed him to the ground.

His fingers slipped.

“ Sylzenya !”

A boot slammed into his face, sharp, abrupt pain cracking his nose. Another kick to his stomach sent the air out his lungs, but he kept fighting against the endless limbs grabbing for him.

Bright pain ruptured in the back of his head, and his mind fell into darkness.