Page 32 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)

A Protector’s Command

I bathed, making extremely indecent sounds when my body finally hit the steaming hot water, and redressed in the last of my clean nightclothes.

Maybe I could get Ramiren to do my laundry. With a snort, I stuffed all of my dirty clothes in a cloth sack and left it outside my door for the castle staff, with a few coins as thanks.

As my door was closing, familiar voices approached.

Raewyn and Ramiren rounded the corner and came into view, talking quietly.

Though it was harder to tell with Raewyn, as she always wore the same thing, Ramiren had noticeably changed clothing.

He must have had the chance to bathe as well. I wondered if that meant something.

Likely not, we’re both tired.

Ramiren inclined his head in my direction with a smile. “Good night, Lady Nathalia.” He headed to another room while my sister looked at me.

“Good night, Master Ramiren.” My eyes followed him until his door shut behind him. I looked back at my sister, who was looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Need something, Nat?”

“Hm? Oh. No. Just leaving my laundry out. Good night, Raewyn,” I replied .

“Good night,” she smiled at me and turned toward her room.

“Raewyn…?”

My sister stopped short and looked at me expectantly.

“Did Mother or Father ever tell you a story about the Twin Spheres?”

Raewyn frowned, thinking. “No. Not that I can recall. I don’t remember anything about any Twin Spheres.”

My answering hum was more of a half-grunt. “Fair enough. Seems to be a well-known children's tale here, but not in Laeth.”

“Fey love their stories. You know that. Good night.” She gave a half-hearted wave and disappeared behind the door to her room.

My hand rested on the doorknob a beat, then I heard a whisper. Ramiren’s whisper. “If you are not too exhausted, please come to my room.”

And suddenly, I wasn’t tired anymore.

It had been days since our last lesson, though I’d barely had enough time to think about it, much less seek another one out.

Also, sweating across an entire desert did not exactly leave me with a sense of confidence in my hygiene. We had to conserve water for drinking. Bathing, normally a nightly necessity, had come second to the dangers of dehydration. Thankfully, no one seemed to care in the feasthall.

I stepped through the door, closing it behind me quietly, and crept ten paces to the door he disappeared behind. When Ramiren answered my gentle knock, he took one look at me and smiled. "Please, come in.”

He inhaled deeply as I entered his room and turned to face him when he shut the door.

He paused before speaking softly, “I had thought to simply chat, but based upon… the look in your eyes, it seems that won’t be happening.

If the topic is fixed in your thoughts, and you are ready to begin, we can depart at once. "

My eyebrows raised, again wondering if he could read thoughts.

"I consent." I blinked to find myself in the bedroom.

Instead of my eyes straying to this or that interesting item, my eyes stayed solely on Ramiren.

Without a word, I began to undress, removing my long shirt.

My head tilted, as he had not yet removed his clothing, or even moved to do so.

The corners of my mouth tugged upward. Right.

His words from our last lesson. "And I see you've made your mind up, as well.

You're willing to let me be in charge, so to speak. "

"You are aware of my safe word. This next lesson involves understanding basic roles from each side. You have my consent, and if you need to break the scene to ask questions, you have my permission and encouragement to do so. The agenda is yours."

"Your word is ‘orange’. And mine is ‘hummingbird’.” I need to be firm. Like he was. Unyielding.

"Very well, pl-" I caught myself and tightly pursed my lips to stop talking.

Well, this is starting off wonderfully. Vague and unremarkable ideas of what he could be ordered to do filled my mind, each dismissed in turn. I thought about what he did with me. He started slow last time, so I will as well. But how?

My shoulders rolled to ease the tension, feeling the twinge from the past several days. It sparked an idea. I am sore. Perhaps he is too. Sometimes, we bribed the healers at the Horyn Academy to massage aching muscles when we became excessively sore from training.

I’ll need to be more gentle than they were when I do this.

"Undo and remove your shirt. Lie on the bed, face down."

He complied, and I climbed onto the bed to straddle his hips.

Placing my hands on his back, just below his shoulders, I began to knead the muscles there.

Though never having practiced giving massages, I was well aware of basic anatomy and the tension one could carry, especially at the shoulders and along the spine.

The only way to learn was by paying attention to the healers when they worked on others, as I felt uncomfortable touching my fellow initiates that way.

At the time, I thought my husband would enjoy that.

But then the initiates would cry out in pain from having bruised tissue being worked on like clay by an angry sculptor, and the idea was promptly nixed.

Maybe my education would be useful tonight. Gentle, but firm.

I leaned into the massage, feeling knots in odd places.

My hands worked deep into his shoulders, moving down his back, as my fingers found the stress his muscles betrayed, that he never showed on his face.

What secrets he must keep, all housed in these knots.

If I rubbed hard enough and in the right places, perhaps those muscles would yield them.

The wine at dinner must’ve gone to my head. What a ridiculous notion. Where is this obsession coming from?

Then, without warning, the answer hit.

He’s the rich dessert I was denied. The hidden book I wasn’t allowed to read. The words I couldn’t say.

I want them because I can’t have them.

A soft moan from Ramiren brought me back to the present.

Most of the tension had melted from his muscles. He stretched into a pillow, as if to sleep. He began to rumble a snore, making me snort in amusement. It was a small and innocent push against my authority that was met with a command to turn onto his back.

He turned, and my smile became a grin with my face hovering inches from his. When I began trailing light kisses down his neck, Ramiren tilted his head back, giving me full access.

“Take off your trousers.”

I slid off him to allow the removal. When his trousers hit the floor, my eyebrow raised in question. Surprised to find him so... relaxed, I didn’t quite understand .

Until I did.

Maybe I am good at giving massages.

Another idea popped into my head. He had me use my hands on myself.

Perhaps he could do the same. "Use your hand on your cock. And don’t stop until I tell you," I instructed. Authority, command, and control came easily to me, and I was used to giving orders. But with Ramiren, it felt like the control was somehow simultaneous, a gentle push and pull, even now. It was a thought that should have made me bristle, rebel, and demand complete deference, but it didn’t. His type of control was safe.

I felt safe.

When he took the direction with his eyes on me, slowly running his hand up and down the rapidly hardening cock, I lowered my head to nuzzle my nose along his jawline.

Breathing in deep, the familiar scent of honey was both comforting and incurably associated with my handsome broodling.

"I’m going to kiss you." When Ramiren nodded his consent, I brushed my lips over his.

He continued to stroke as I kissed him as much and in any way I wished, until he used his other hand to tilt my head, deepening the kiss on his own terms. My lower lip brushed one of his canines, and the sharp sting made me inhale deeply.

He nipped that same lip purposefully, and the pain shot a zap of pleasure straight to my clit. I groaned.

“Please put your mouth on-”

I smiled crookedly. “Silence. No, again.”

He paused and beamed at me. “I need you to put your mouth on my cock.”

Though it appeared I was contemplating his request, I knew it wasn’t a request at all, merely a statement with no plea or hint of begging. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t sound sorry. “That must be frustrating for you.”

He stopped, mid-stroke, and stared at me with an astonished expression. His warm breath puffed out between parted lips and ghosted over my own mouth. “What did you say?”

Fuck, this is fun.

The tip of my nose rubbed on his. “I said, the fact that I’m not tongue-fucking your cock right now must be so very frustrating.”

His eyes widened, then somehow darkened.

Hardened like the fully rigid cock now glistening in his hand.

I reached down with the pad of my index finger and smoothed it through the slippery liquid at his tip.

Without missing a beat, and without breaking eye contact, I brought my finger to my lips and sucked the salted caramel taste from it.

“Delicious,” I whispered.

He muttered a very quiet, but very audible, “Fuck.”

Got ‘em.

My blood was on fire, not just from my own needs burning through me, but from the blatant desire on his face.

He was trying to keep it in check and failing miserably.

I wanted to wrap myself around him, take in his honey scent, and taste his skin to my heart’s content.

Not yet. I moved back, keeping my voice unbothered by the stark want on his face.

“Not yet, I think. You’ve not earned it. Stand up and by the bed.”

He did so after some hesitation and a harsh exhale.