Page 21 of Sanctuary and Spices (Tales of the Ardent Veil #1)

JANI

H is hands skimmed up my sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. My fingers traced the glowing markings that spiraled across his skin, memorizing their patterns. Each touch drew a soft sound from him, his breath catching when I found particularly sensitive spots.

“Tell me what you want,” I whispered, arching into his exploring hands.

“Everything.” He pressed open-mouthed kisses down my neck. “Want to taste every inch of you.”

I gasped as his mouth found my breast, tongue circling before drawing the peak between his lips. Heat pooled low in my belly. My hands tangled in his hair as he lavished attention first on one breast, then the other.

“Ronhar...” His name fell from my lips as he kissed lower, mapping the curves of my stomach.

His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them. The first touch of his tongue made me buck against him. He held my hips steady, thorough in his exploration until I writhed beneath him.

Pleasure built with each stroke of his clever tongue. My fingers clutched the sheets as he slipped one finger inside me, then another, curling them just right. The dual sensations had me climbing higher and higher.

“Let go,” he murmured against my sensitive flesh. “Want to watch you fall apart.”

The combination of his mouth and fingers pushed me over the edge. I cried out his name as waves of pleasure crashed through me.

He kissed his way back up my body as I caught my breath. When he reached my mouth, I tasted myself on his lips.

“Need you,” I breathed, wrapping my legs around his hips. “Please...”

He pressed into me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. The stretch and fullness had me moaning. His markings blazed brighter with each inch.

The ridge of his cock brushed against me in ways I’d never felt before, sending jolts of pleasure racing up my spine. The sensation was unlike anything I’d experienced—textured, deliberate, as though every inch of him had been designed to drive me higher. My breath hitched as he shifted, the subtle spiraling ridges along his length creating friction that left me trembling.

“Gods, Ronhar...” The words escaped me in a gasp, my body arching toward him, speaking where words failed me.

“You feel... perfect,” he groaned, his voice rough with need.

I clung to him, my hands sliding down his back to trace the glowing patterns there. Every movement sent sparks of pleasure racing through me, his body attuned to mine in ways that defied explanation.

“Okay?” he asked, trembling with the effort of holding still once fully seated.

I rolled my hips in answer, drawing a groan from him. He started moving, setting a steady rhythm that had pleasure building again already.

My hands roamed his back, tracing the glowing patterns there. When I found a particularly bright marking near his spine, his hips jerked.

“Do that again,” he growled.

I did, watching his control slip as I stroked the sensitive spot. His thrusts grew harder, deeper. Heat coiled tighter in my core.

“Up,” he commanded suddenly, pulling out. Before I could protest the loss, he’d flipped me onto my hands and knees.

He slid back in with a single thrust that had us both crying out. This angle let him hit spots that sent sparks shooting through me. My arms gave out and I collapsed onto my elbows, changing the angle even more deliciously.

His hands gripped my hips as he drove into me. The sounds of our pleasure filled the room - gasps and moans mixing with the slap of skin on skin.

One hand left my hip to reach around, fingers finding my sensitive bud. The dual stimulation had me rocketing toward another peak.

“Close,” I managed between gasps.

“Yes,” he growled, movements growing erratic. “Come for me again.”

His fingers circled faster and I shattered, crying out his name. He followed moments later with a roar, markings blazing like captured starlight.

We collapsed together, his weight pressing me into the mattress. After a moment he rolled us to our sides, keeping me tucked against him.

My fingers traced idle patterns on his arm where it wrapped around my waist. His markings still pulsed softly, matching the gradually slowing beat of his heart against my back.

“That was...” I trailed off, lacking words.

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Yes.”

Questions crowded my mind - about what he’d called me, about these feelings between us, about the way the station itself seemed to hum in harmony. But exhaustion pulled at me, and his warmth was so comfortable...

“Sleep,” he murmured, pulling me closer. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

I drifted off surrounded by his scent, his markings painting dreams across my skin.

Warmth wrapped around me as I drifted toward wakefulness. An unfamiliar bed, but I felt utterly safe. Ronhar curled around me, one arm draped over my waist.

Rainbow light danced across the sheets from the crystal formations studding his quarters’ walls. I stretched carefully, savoring the peaceful moment before?—

The festival. Opening far too soon.

My mental checklist exploded into being: Transport containers to load. Temperature controls to verify. Last-minute adjustments to the valthorn preserves...

I tried to slip free of Ronhar’s embrace without waking him.

His arms tightened. “Stay.”

“I can’t. We have so much to do.” But I couldn’t help smiling at his sleepy pout. This powerful ex-mercenary, looking like a disappointed child.

“Five more minutes.” He nuzzled my neck.

“That’s what you said an hour ago.” I turned in his arms, brushing my lips against his. “And as much as I’d love to stay...”

His markings flared brighter at the kiss. “You could.”

“The festival won’t set itself up.” I sat up, clutching the sheet. “Though I should probably figure out how to get back to the boarding house without everyone seeing me in evening wear.”

“I have something you can borrow.” He rose, moving to a storage unit built into the wall. The morning light caught the markings spanning his back, making them shimmer.

He returned with fabric that seemed to capture starlight - deep blue shot through with crystal threading that caught and reflected the room’s glow. “Traditional Devaali clothing. It wraps like a skirt.”

“It’s beautiful.” I touched the material reverently. So soft.

He helped me dress, his hands lingering as he showed me how to secure the wrapped panels. The fabric settled perfectly against my skin. He added one of his shirts, the sleeves rolling easily to my elbows.

“Keep it,” he said quietly. “It suits you.”

Heat bloomed in my chest at wearing his clothes. At how right it felt.

He caught my hand as I reached for the door. “One more thing.” He pulled me close for a kiss that made his markings pulse with light. “Now you can go.”

I hurried through the early-morning corridors, passing the first market vendors setting up their stalls. My fingers kept straying to my lips, remembering that kiss.

Focus. Festival. Work to do.

The Wanderer’s Rest kitchen buzzed with activity when I arrived. Pix darted between transport containers floating on cushions of Leyline energy, poking at control panels with reckless enthusiasm.

“I could boost the cooling efficiency by at least thirty percent?—”

“No.” I grabbed their hand before they could modify anything. “We need these containers working perfectly today. No experiments.”

“But—”

“What did we discuss about explosive improvements?”

They sighed dramatically. “Not during service hours.”

“Exactly. Help me load these crystallized honey cakes instead.”

Soryn stood at the kitchen entrance, directing a steady flow of delivery crews as they moved between the café and the adjacent square. “Crystal-enhanced items go to the garden-side booths,” he instructed, pointing. “Standard transport for everything else.”

Ronhar moved between the garden and the café’s loading area, harvesting the last of the delicate ingredients. The plants reached toward him as he passed, responding to his presence in ways I still couldn’t quite explain. They stretched toward me, too, when I crossed near them, their glow faint but insistent.

“The Jhyra opened early,” he said, handing me a basket of iridescent petals. “They’ve never done that before.”

His markings brightened when our fingers brushed.

“Perfect timing then. I wanted to garnish the spring rolls with them.” I turned back toward the prep station, burying myself in final recipe adjustments, trying to focus on work rather than how his presence made my skin tingle.

“The festival square looks incredible,” Pix announced, bounding back into the kitchen from the delivery run, their antennae practically vibrating with excitement. “They’ve set up these amazing glowing pathways that lead straight to the café garden! And the Jhyra are already catching the light—makes the whole place feel alive!”

“Tell me while you help pack these sauces.” I handed them a crate of carefully labeled bottles.

“They’ve got crystal patterns embedded in the ground that light up when people walk over them,” Pix continued, grabbing the bottles with enthusiasm. “And floating installations for the bioluminescent displays—oh, and the Pel’ax booth next to ours has their mushrooms growing in these humidity-controlled domes. It’s wild!”

“The Pel’ax requested higher humidity,” Ronhar added as he passed us, setting down a tray of freshly harvested herbs. “I made adjustments to the garden’s moisture shields this morning to compensate.”

“Everything’s thriving lately,” I murmured, glancing at him. The Jhyra in his hands seemed to glow brighter as he turned toward me. I remembered how the plants had reached for us both last night, their energy humming in tune with something unspoken between us.

Soryn cleared his throat pointedly, breaking the moment. “The first wave of supplies needs to be out in ten minutes. Let’s move!”

I stepped back, heat rising in my cheeks. “Right. Pix, help me with these last few boxes?”

The rest of the loading process continued in carefully controlled chaos. I lost myself in the rhythm of packing and checking, trying not to let my attention drift to Ronhar every time he passed nearby. His markings still pulsed subtly brighter in my presence, though everyone—mercifully—pretended not to notice.

Once everything was packed and ready, we moved outside to the festival square, where the transformation left me momentarily speechless.

The Grand Promenade had become a glowing masterpiece. Pathways of light stretched from the square to the Wanderer’s Rest, with trails leading directly into the café garden. Bioluminescent displays lined the walkways, their soft glow blending seamlessly with the garden’s natural light. Floating platforms hovered above the square at varying heights, creating layers of activity that felt both vibrant and harmonious.

“The Krythari really outdid themselves this year,” Soryn said, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of vendors and workers as they set up their spaces.

Nearby, a Pel’ax merchant adjusted the moisture levels in their mushroom domes while an Aurenai trader hung delicate light-catchers that refracted the glow into shimmering rainbow patterns. Everywhere I looked, the space was alive with motion, color, and energy.

“Did you see the environmental bubbles?” Pix asked, practically bouncing as they pointed toward a section of the square. “Localized climate zones! They’re using field generators to maintain separate conditions for different species—no barriers needed!”

“Fascinating.” I tried to sound invested while mentally calculating how long it would take to set up our booth. “Help me unload these containers?”

“I’ll handle the garden transfers,” Ronhar said, already moving toward the edge of the garden where some tasting displays were set up. The plants seemed eager to settle into their temporary arrangements, their leaves stretching toward him as he carefully positioned each one.

I focused on arranging the cooking station, though my attention kept drifting to Ronhar. His markings gleamed faintly in the festival light, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how natural he looked here—like the garden and the festival had grown around him, rather than the other way around.

The crystal formations positioned near our booth chimed softly, their resonance shifting whenever Ronhar and I moved in sync. I pretended not to notice how the plants seemed to sway in response to us, their energy quietly acknowledging the connection I still wasn’t sure I was ready to name.

We had work to do. The festival opened in hours, and there were still sauces to arrange, petals to garnish, and countless logistical details to finalize. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by the way Ronhar’s shirt still carried his scent, or how his eyes followed me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

But maybe, just maybe, I could steal another kiss once everything was set up.