Page 9

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Bex

The blessing, and curse, of having a memory like mine is that I remember every face I’ve ever seen. Every detail, every flicker of expression, every glance. It’s useful… usually. But not at three in the morning, when I should be asleep, resting up for the first trial. Instead, my mind kept looping through the last few days like a fever dream I couldn’t wake from. The faces of the brazen people I’d crossed paths with etched into my brain like scorch marks. Every flirtatious wink, every half-smile dripping with trouble, every glance that lingered just a moment too long. Every lingering, fiery glance from Zaffir. Every gentle and charged whisper from Briar. Every romantic spin along the dance floor with Thorne. Every swipe of Ezra’s fingers against my body. I could feel them all, see them all, and it was like they were here, breathing against my skin. My body flushed with heat, traitorous in its reaction. This was not the time or place for selfish desire. And yet… it stirred in me like a second puls e. My fingertips traced the curve of my collarbone, my breath coming in ragged, uneven spurts.

The cool night air didn’t seem to help steady me as Zaffir led us away from the ballroom and into what felt like a different world. We found ourselves standing in a large circular driveway, surrounded by ten rustic but beautiful cabins, their wooden exteriors glowing softly under the pale moonlight. It almost felt like a campground, though there was an undeniable luxury to it that made the place feel more serene than rugged.

Zaffir guided us toward one of the cabins, which he casually mentioned would be ours for the duration of the Reclamation Run. Ezra, Zaffir, and I, our little team, or whatever it was.

I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place as we approached the cabin. When I’d asked Nova if she’d be staying with us, she had laughed, a sound that seemed to echo in the night. “Like I’d ever sleep in one of these rundown little huts,” she’d said, as if the very idea was laughable. It looked more than fine to me.

I looked around and shook my head, comparing it to the dilapidated state of Canyon. This cabin was pristine by any standard, a far cry from the crumbling buildings I had grown up with. The disparity between the two worlds couldn’t have been clearer.

Once inside, I quickly withdrew into myself, trying to get distance from the whirlwind of emotions still buzzing through my body. My mind kept drifting back to the hallway, the feel of Ezra’s body against mine, the electric tension between us, and the pulse of his kiss still lingering on my lips. Then, of course, there was Zaffir, who had walked in on us. I couldn’t stop wondering if he’d heard everything, and even more absurdly, I found myself hoping that he had .

It was these thoughts that were keeping me awake, and there was a desperation lingering beneath my skin that I simply had to chase. My fingertips brushed across my peaked nipples and I bit my lips to stifle the moan that slid through my lips. My bedroom shared a wall with one of the men, I wasn’t sure who because I locked myself away pretty quickly after returning, but I heard movement over there as whoever it was readied themselves for sleep.

I needed to stay quiet, but I couldn’t ignore the burning in my core or the aching need in my blood. I needed another release like I needed another breath.

I slid one hand under the silk fabric of my sleep dress, and pinched my nipple between two fingers, groaning quietly at the delicious bite of pleasurable pain. Then my other hand trailed lower, and lower to my bare pussy. My legs slid open to accommodate my needy fingers as they pressed delicately against my throbbing clit.

I stifled another moan and I pressed circles against the bundle of nerves. My body was a live wire, burning beneath my touch as my mind flashed through memories of the four stunning near strangers who’d affected me this way. Pressing in, I let one finger hook inside of me, which drew a thick moan from my lips, one I couldn’t quite stifle quick enough. I paused for a few moments, remaining still. Hoping I didn’t draw any attention. After a few silent moments, when I was sure I didn’t wake anyone, I continued. Sliding a finger in and out of my heat, taking care to rub my clit and pinch my nipples in time to maximize my pleasure. I arched off the bed as my fingers drew me closer and closer to release.

Then I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Shit,” I cursed, drawing my fingers from my core and the cresting orgasm that was nearly there drifted away. I felt equal measures of frustration and embarrassment as I ensured my body was covered by the silk dress and padded across the floor toward the door.

The door creaked open, and there stood Zaffir, leaning casually against the doorframe. His pupils were dilated, his hair tousled as though he’d just rolled out of bed. He wore nothing but tight sleep shorts that hugged his muscular thighs, and his bare chest was on full display. Even in the darkness, I could see the outline of his cock straining against the material. My gaze lingered over the freckles scattered across his skin, and, embarrassingly, I had the absurd urge to trace each one with my lips.

His eyes locked onto mine, intense and smoldering, and I could see the rise and fall of his chest, the way he was breathing just a little too hard. The air between us thickened, and for a moment, the world outside that door seemed to vanish.

“Zaffir…” I whispered.

“I heard you,” he replied, and a flash of white hot desire shot through me.

“You heard me,” I repeated. His eyes scanned my body, which was draped in that thin silk dress that was low enough to show most of my breasts, and short enough that one wrong move and he’d get an eyeful of my bare pussy.

Or maybe one right move.

“I’m sorry,” I added, even though I wasn’t. Which was shocking and surprising to me. He was Praxis. So why the hell did I want him to come in?

He looked pained, like he was desperate to reach out, but was fighting against his instinct. “Did you…” he began, but then cleared his throat. “Did you come?”

I felt my body warm, and my needy core clenched.

“Not yet,” I replied and he groaned, running a hand along his face. We stood there, watching each other, our breathing heavy and thick .

“Show me,” he finally demanded. And I felt the inferno consume me.

“I-” I started to protest, but he stepped inside, crossing the threshold of my room. His presence enveloping me in a heat that wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“Please,” he added, voice quieter now, but no less intense. I searched his face for the smug bastard who’d once accused me of lying, or the one who told me not to trust anybody, but he wasn’t here. This wasn’t that man. This was someone else entirely, a man unraveling at the seams. A man made of need. Of want.

“Why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I think your body craves mine the way mine craves yours.”

My breath caught. “Are you lying?”

He shook his head, slow and certain. “I will never lie to you, Brexlyn.”

I bit my bottom lip, heat pooling in my core. “I don’t believe you.”

His eyes locked on mine. “I know.”

“You’re Praxis,” I said, softer this time. I didn’t know if I was reminding him… or myself.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

And the worst part was that somehow I knew he would. If I said the word, he’d walk away. Just like that. He’d take all this heat and hunger and ache and disappear with it.

But I couldn’t say it. My lips wouldn’t move. I wouldn’t trust him with my mind, and definitely not my life. But maybe I could trust him with my body.

On one hand, Zaffir was Praxis. The epitome of everything I was supposed to resist, the polished face of the regime that had taken so much from all of us and gave us nothing but scraps in return. On the other, my body reacted to him before my brain had a chance to catch up. And there was a chance I’d be dead this time tomorrow.

I was being selfish. Indulgent. Reckless, maybe. But for once, maybe that was okay.

I took a step back, allowing him to enter the room fully. He shut the door behind him, and with a swift motion, he locked it. Our eyes never left each other as I continued to retreat, my steps slow and deliberate. When the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the bed, I lowered myself onto the mattress, careful to keep my legs pressed tightly together. The space between us seemed to shrink, the tension thickening in the air. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms across his bare chest and eyes glistening as he watched.

Slowly, I spread my legs.

He groaned, thick and deep as I revealed my core to him. His eyes scanned my body and I watched as his tongue darted out to lick his lip. I wanted to taste him…After he’d tasted me. The thought was strange. And wrong. But I couldn’t stop it.

“Show me how you pleasure yourself, Brexlyn,” he ordered quietly and I felt compelled to do everything he asked.

I let my hand trail across my stomach again until it reached the glistening apex of my thighs. I spent a few tortuous moments swiping a single finger through the wetness at my lips without dipping in, and with each swipe my body convulsed and Zaffir’s eyes darkened.

Then I dipped a finger inside and moaned. The pleasure was heightened because of his eyes on me.

I pressed my finger in, slow at first, trying to savor every inch, and every moment of this charged interaction. I used my other hand to press against my throbbing clit and my two hands worked in tandem bringing me to a delicious blissful peak .

“Is this how Ezra touched you?” Zaffir asked. My head shot up, and my fingers stilled.

“What-” I began. Suddenly worry was all I could feel, even above the cresting pleasure.

“Did he press his thick fingers into your greedy cunt, Brexlyn?” he asked, tilting his head and darkening his eyes. It wasn’t anger or jealousy in his gaze. It was heat. And I think I liked it.

“Yes,” I answered softly.

“Did he make you come all over his hand?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly, telling me that he didn’t have quite as strong a hold on his control as he’d want me to believe.

“Yes, he did,” I replied. The worry slipped away, replaced again by the overwhelming sensation of my fingers and the memories his words were eliciting.

“Show me how he fucked you,” he ordered and my pussy clenched with his dirty words. God, what were these people doing to me?

I slid another finger inside and rolled my head back as I slammed them into me while rolling my clit with the other hand.

“Hmm.. two fingers?” Zaffir noted. “And he paid attention to your clit? Good boy,” he praised and even though it wasn’t directed to me, I felt it in my entire body.

I heard him let out a soft groan and when I lifted my head to look at him, I saw that he had his cock out and was running it through his hand. I bit my lip to stop from begging him to let me taste it. Or feel it replacing my fingers deep inside of me. As much as I was lost in this moment, I couldn’t forget who he was. I couldn’t go that far.

“Do you think you can come before I do, Brexlyn?” he challenged, breathlessly.

I nodded. Feeling my body already reaching the peak again, desperate for release that’s been interrupted a few times already.

“Show me,” he ordered, as his hand worked his cock faster. I watched him closely, my eyes glued to his pleasure as I slammed into my pussy, imagining it was his cock that was reaching those dark desperate parts of me.

I felt the orgasm build and build, until I erupted, my core soaking my hand as I rode out the explosive release. I heard Zaffir curse under his breath as he came too, and I watched as his thick hard cock twitched with release.

There were a few quiet moments in the aftermath, and for the briefest of seconds, all I felt was pure pleasure, bliss even, but it was fleeting. It slipped away as quickly as it came, replaced by the sharp sting of shock and overwhelming embarrassment. I pressed my thighs together, my body tense, and sat up, unable to meet his eyes. I turned my gaze away from him, trying to regain control over my chaotic breathing.

What had just happened? How had I let myself fall into this with someone from Praxis?

I felt his presence before I saw him, his warmth wrapping around me, swallowing me whole. He approached quietly, and his fingers brushed my chin, tilting my head up so that I had no choice but to meet his soft, honeyed gaze. “Tell me where you just went,” he whispered, his voice a gentle command.

“Y-You’re…” I faltered, my throat tight, the words getting stuck. “You’re Praxis.”

His expression softened, and I saw something almost painful flicker across his face. His thumb caressed my lower lip, and for a moment, I almost gave in, wanting to dip my tongue out to taste him. But I stayed still, watching him instead.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice heavy with something I couldn’t place .

A slow sigh escaped him, like he was fighting with himself, and then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

What was I doing?

I collapsed back onto the bed, my arms folding across my eyes in an attempt to block out the confusion swirling in my mind.

I was getting distracted, and I couldn’t afford that, not now, not with the trials starting tomorrow. I had to survive. I had to find a way to help my brother. The last thing I needed were the burning gazes of handsome, confusing men clouding my thoughts. But with a memory like mine, I knew I wouldn’t forget any of it anytime soon.