Page 63 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

OPHELIA

“ O phelia,” Elijah shudders, my name sounding like both a prayer and damnation.

My tongue swirls around the head of his cock, his length bobbing in and out of my mouth as I hollow my cheeks around him. With a wet pop, I release him, stroking up and down his length slowly.

Lust-filled brown eyes meet mine in a desperate plea for more.

“Please, baby. I need to be inside you,” he begs, his voice husky.

I swing a leg over his hips, lifting my nightgown and seating myself just above his length. He palms my breast, slipping the thin material down to expose my heated flesh.

Weeks have passed without the feel of him between my legs, surviving on the sparse kisses as we passed one another in the hall.

The number of refugees flooding the capital has grown exponentially, keeping us apart during the day and leaving us too exhausted for anything but sleep once we finally come together at night.

I have had enough of it.

It wasn’t just that I wanted him; I needed this intimacy and moment of reprieve in his arms. The weight of running a kingdom in peril, facing an entire city of starving citizens, and everything in between has become debilitating.

That was why I had feigned a stomachache at dinner to allow us to retire early for the evening. Unless the city was on fire or under siege, there would be no interruptions.

I slide down his length, sheathing him fully in one smooth, claiming motion. We groan in unison at the connection, and my skin pebbles, nipples hardening to stiff peaks.

“Goddess, you’re exquisite.” The praise rolls off his tongue as swiftly as I roll my hips against his, making us both gasp.

The feeling of having him after being deprived for so long is like the first breath of air when you’ve come up from drowning.

“You’re soaked for me,” he whispers as he rolls his hips beneath me in tandem with mine.

"This is what weeks of not having you feels like,” I sigh, rolling my hips in a slow figure-eight motion, feeling as every inch of him hits perfectly within me.

One hand tweaks my nipple, rolling it back and forth between his forefinger and thumb. The other hand grasps my hip, guiding my motions as I continue to rock against him.

The tingling sensation that signals my impending orgasm starts quickly, coming easily after weeks of yearning for him.

Just before I shatter, the door to his room flies open, hitting hard against the stone wall.

Cillian stands, staring at us but seemingly unfazed by what he’s walked in on.

“For fucks sake,” Elijah curses, throwing a blanket over my exposed form.

It’s too late, though.

My eyes connect with Cillian’s, and the adrenaline spikes as he watches me come undone.

My hips still as I shatter around Elijah’s cock, my orgasm hitting me harder than I care to admit.

I convulse around him, inner walls squeezing tightly and pulling Elijah over the edge into damnation alongside me.

“Fucking hells, I don’t have time to comment on what I just witnessed,” Cillian says, raking a hand over his face. “Let’s do it again sometime when your lives aren’t in imminent danger.”

He’s dressed head to toe in black leathers. They’re similar to Breyla’s but somehow darker. Two sets of matching leathers are thrust at us as he demands, “You need to get dressed. Now.”

I pull myself off Elijah, dropping the nightgown to the floor in favor of the leathers.

“Could you at least turn around, you bastard?” Elijah asks, annoyance filling his tone.

“Modesty seems rather pointless, considering I just watched both of you orgasm,” Cillian replies, shrugging.

I don’t admit it aloud, but he has a point.

As we dress, Cillian explains the situation. “A mob of starving citizens is headed here as we speak. The people have turned, and they’re looking for someone to blame. Most of the nobles have already gone into hiding. If we leave now, I can get you both to safety.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, trying to understand what could motivate him to care about whether we lived or died.

“I still owe Breyla my life. I’m not about to let her friends die when I can help it,” he answers quickly. He drapes a heavy cloak around my shoulders, pulling the hood up to hide my face. “You have three minutes. Pack only what you can carry.”

Elijah and I set to shoving the warmest clothes into a pack. From beneath the mattress, Elijah pulls out a bag of gold, several daggers, and his gloves. Cillian tosses him a cloak that he drapes over his shoulders before strapping the pack to his back.

“I’ve got food and more supplies packed and waiting with the horses. Let’s go,” Cillian says, but Elijah refuses to move.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing my wrist. “Where are we going, Cillian?”

Cillian reaches for the door handle, but Elijah’s hand shoots out to stop him from turning the knob. “I’m taking you west to Prudia.”

The anxiety churning in my gut is momentarily eclipsed by the excitement of seeing Breyla again. But if we weren’t safe here, what made Cillian think we would be safe in Prudia?

“I’ll let her know we’re coming,” Elijah offers.

“There’s no time,” Cillian argues. “I sent a rider her way already. She’ll be expecting us.”

“Fine, but there’s something else I must do before we leave.” Elijah’s tone shifts, tinged with desperation. “More than just our lives depend on it.”

It’s enough to make Cillian acquiesce to his request. “You have ninety seconds, then I’m walking out this door with Ophelia, with or without you.”

Elijah nods, closing his eyes tightly. A few moments pass before they fly open again, finding Cillian. They take on an eerie quality that I’ve come to realize is someone else seeing through his eyes.

“General Jade.” Elijah’s voice is steady and clear. “Consider this your final order to retreat from all fronts. Evacuate what civilians you can, but do not delay. Your only objective is to protect our people by whatever means necessary.”

The command strikes me as strangely vague, but Elijah and Jade knew each other far better than I knew either of them. Perhaps they had a code or a language all their own.

“My mercenaries are at your disposal, General,” Cillian adds before Elijah severs the connection.

My head tilts, taking in Cillian before I ask, “You knew?”

“It’s my job to know, sweetheart. Time to go.” Cillian ushers us out of the door.

The halls are eerily quiet as we take back corridors and hidden passages, exiting through the castle’s side entrance toward the stables. Except for a few guards, the halls are empty. It’s a silence that sets my nerves on edge.

As we step into the night air, the first thing I notice is two figures dressed identically to us. Their faces are obscured by the hoods, but judging by their stature I can tell they’re male.

The second thing I notice is the lifeless eyes of the castle guards that stare up at me.

Cillian’s hand wraps around my mouth right as a scream erupts from me.

“Shhh,” he hushes me, an arm banding around my waist to hold me in place.

Blood pools around the bodies, their throats slit deep for a quick death.

“They were traitors,” he explains calmly. “I got to them before they had the opportunity to let in the angry citizens coming for your heads.”

I relax enough that he releases his hold on me.

With a firm hand on my lower back, he ushers us forward to the stable. Three horses wait, fully saddled for our journey.

Elijah approaches a sleek chestnut mare, patting her neck lovingly as he murmurs, “Hi, beautiful.”

Beside her is a smaller white Arabian that I assume is meant for me. I approach cautiously, laying my hand on his snout. Immediately, he nuzzles into my touch, huffing a warm breath against my hand.

“What’s his name?” I ask.

“That’s Alanis,” Cillian explains. “Most call him Beast, though.”

“Beast?” I ask, my brow arching.

“Don’t let his smaller stature mislead you.” Cillian chuckles. “He came to us wilder than hell and with a penchant for biting his handlers. Well, except for me.”

“Why is Ophelia riding him?” Elijah asks, stepping between Alanis and me.

Beast swings his head, smacking Elijah hard enough to make him curse.

With Elijah out of the way, Alanis nuzzles my shoulder. “Hi, Beastie,” I coo with a giggle.

“Seems like she’s handling him just fine,” Cillian says, smirking. “He’s also the fastest mount we have.”

An all-black destrier horse towers above the others. The animal is massive, standing at least eighteen hands tall if I were to guess.

Cillian’s eyes rake up and down my frame. “Do you need help mounting?”

“Don’t insult me,” I scoff, slipping my foot into the stirrup before swinging my body up and over Alanis.

“My apologies, lady. I should have known you could mount.” He swings onto his own horse with ease. “I was, after all, privy to your exquisite riding skills.”

An apple smacks him square in the temple, which only makes him laugh. I flip my middle finger up at him, his laughter increasing at the crude gesture.

“Don’t waste our food,” Cillian chides, shooting a glare at Elijah and rubbing his bruised temple.

“Worth it,” Elijah grumbles as he mounts the chestnut mare named Honey.

“Hoods up,” Cillian commands, pulling his own low over those sparkling turquoise eyes. “If they believe you’re mine, they should let us pass without question.”

We comply, letting the dark cloaks blend us with the night sky.

The further from the castle that we ride, the more I hear. Cries of starving children, groans of injured refugees, and yells of the angry citizens blend together in a painful cacophony.

“I thought we were doing what was right,” I whisper.

“You did what you could,” Cillian replies, his voice low. “But it was an impossible task.”

Tears threaten to fall, and I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “It wasn’t enough.”

“You were never going to succeed. The odds were stacked against you from the start.” His tone is far too nonchalant for my liking.

As we reach the edge of Ciyoria, we pass an overturned carriage.

“Oh, gods,” Elijah whispers. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the horror in his voice.

Noticing the body lying haphazardly from the shattered door, I swallow back the bile in my throat. Lord Jaeson stares blankly ahead, his neck bent at a grotesque angle.

I shoot an accusatory look at Cillian. “I thought you said they went into hiding.”

“I saw them leave. It doesn’t appear they all made it.”

He kicks Midnight into a faster pace, urging us away from the crumbling city.

Once we’ve left the carnage behind, I muster the courage to ask, “Why would they do that?”

Elijah shifts in his seat, turning to face me. “Starvation births desperation in otherwise good people. More than that, though, they need someone to blame. So, they look to those that they see as having what they lack as the problem.”

We’ve sent every scrap of extra food out to the people displaced and affected by the attacks on our borders.

For weeks, we’ve been consuming broth and bread, not feasting on meat or sweets.

I don’t bother voicing that, though, because they both know it.

They lived through it just the same as I had.

“They’re going to be disappointed when they reach the palace food stores,” I say instead.

We ride for several more hours until we’re a comfortable distance from Ciyoria before we make camp for the night.

Avoiding cities for fear of being recognized, we choose a wooded area somewhere between the capital and Caedel.

The path we take is an alternate route thanks to reports of looting, attacks, and fires, extending our journey by several days.

As we dismount, I hear Cillian let loose a curse that has my head snapping to him. He steps out from behind a dense grouping of trees, his brow furrowed with annoyance.

I pull the pack from Alanis’ saddlebag. “What is it?”

“The messenger I sent ahead of us to Prudia didn’t make it.”

My brows arch. “How do you know?”

“I found his body about fifty yards east of here just now.”

Elijah stiffens. “It’s not safe to make camp here.”

“Probably not,” Cillian admits. “But our options are limited.”

“Then what are we going to do?” I ask.

“It’ll be dawn in an hour. I’m going to sleep while Elijah keeps watch.

Once there’s enough light, I’ll use my Madilim Gift to shield us while you sleep.

” Cillian begins laying out his bedroll, Midnight dropping to his knees to sleep next to his rider.

“It’ll only be a few hours, but it must be enough for now. ”

Elijah lowers himself to the forest floor, his back against a wide oak tree. It takes only minutes for Cillian’s breathing to even out into a rhythm that tells me he’s asleep.

I feed Alanis a carrot from the pack before dropping next to Elijah.

His eyes close for several moments before he opens them again and says, “Hey, B.”

My heart rate spikes knowing he’s connected to Breyla right now. I cup his face in my hands, turning him to face me. “I miss you,” I whisper.

Elijah chuckles, brushing a chaste kiss against my lips. “Now that Ophelia has hijacked my message, we should probably let you know you’ll be seeing us shortly.”

Elijah’s shoulders fall, defeat lining every inch of his handsome face. “We’ll explain more when we arrive, but Rimor…” He gulps, struggling to get out the words that weigh so heavily on us both.

“Rimor is no longer safe,” I finish the words Elijah can’t seem to voice. “Cillian is bringing us to you. We’re so sorry we failed you.”

“Love you, brat,” Elijah finishes, ending the connection and dropping his head.

“You should sleep,” he says, but wraps an arm around my shoulder, nonetheless.

My fingers trace simple patterns on his thigh as I snuggle into his side, basking in his warmth. “I’ll sleep when you sleep,” I say, fighting a yawn.

He presses a kiss to the crown of my head and whispers, “I don’t deserve you.”

I don’t bother dignifying that sentiment with a response.

When I wake, I’m still wrapped in his arms, but we’re lying down on Elijah’s bedroll.

I must have fallen asleep at some point and not woken when Elijah relocated us.

The mid-morning sun streams down on our faces.

It’s unusually warm for the season, so I bask in the heat for just a minute longer before moving.

I move slowly so as not to disturb Elijah’s still sleeping form behind me.

Cillian’s staring at me, his eyes calculating like he’s studying something intriguing. “You sleep so soundly,” he finally says.

I begin the motions of packing Alanis’ saddle in preparation for moving out. “It’s only thanks to him.”

“How so?”

I pull the cloak around me tighter, a sudden breeze sweeping through and chilling me. “I sleepwalk. Between that and the nightmares, I’ve nearly ended myself at least once. He keeps them at bay.”

Cillian considers my words for a moment. “It’s good that you have him, then.”

“He’s a blessing I didn’t know I needed,” I say, emotion tightening my throat.