Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 (21 page)

Grasping my hips, Dillon molded me to him, and I was lost.

How could I walk away from him now? I couldn’t. Not with my heart.

“What’s with that look?” His smile was hesitant.

“Nothing.” I tunneled my fingers through his hair and locked my hands behind his head. He resisted, so I rose onto the balls of my feet and kissed the edges of his frown. “Where were we?”

His lips were hard and unbending. Undeterred, I nibbled and licked my way down his throat until I reached the crease in his pectorals, then tasted my way across one of his flat male nipples.

He groaned. “It’s all coming back to me.”

I withdrew when his fingers cupped my scalp, made me stop and forced my gaze upward.

“The way I remember it, it’s my turn.” He braced his shoulders against the wall and made a space between us. “Hang on a second.” Glamour shimmered. His wings vanished as I protested. “I didn’t expect this.” A lopsided grin melted my heart. “I’ll admit, I’d hoped, but…” He glanced at the door. “Next time, we’ll be prepared. We’ll find a place more private and you can play with them all you want.” His voice was graveled. “I might even take you flying if you’re a good girl.”

I blushed. I couldn’t help it. I’d never been with an Evanti, and his wings… I bit my lip.

“Like that, do you?” His husky chuckle raised hairs along my nape. He traced circles on my hip. His pattern spread across my abdomen and lower, until he brushed the juncture of my thighs. “Not yet.” His voice pitched so low, I had no doubt he hadn’t meant me to hear. Redirecting his path, his hands found my hips and squeezed, lifted me in a slow glide against his body until I hit the right spot and locked my ankles at the small of his back. Approval vibrated through his chest.

Clutching the edges of the stall for support, I ground my hips against him. My biceps burned as I held tight, used my weight to slam those broad shoulders of his against the stall and pin him.

Impact made him grunt. With the wall for support, his hands were free to slide beneath my bottom and squeeze, hard. He bore my weight while I readjusted my grip, grinding his erection against my core. Muscles in his neck strained. His total focus centered where our bodies aligned.

Grasping my legs, he spread me wider, rubbed harder, until orgasm rippled through me.

“Sensitive,” he murmured, fingers brushing the heart of me.

I jolted at that contact, rocking onto his hand, and his fingers slid inside me.

Trembling, my hands bit into metal as familiar pressure built and I shuddered into a second release. “Enough.” I shook my head as his fingers pushed harder, deeper. His thumb brushed the bundle of nerves still throbbing from his attention. “Please.” My hips rolled against him. “Dillon.”

I shut my eyes. I had to. Seeing him, loving him this way, it hurt too much.

Warmth encased the tip of one breast, and my eyes popped open. Dillon’s dark head clouded my vision. I leaned down, kissing his temple as his teeth scraped slow across my nipple. One arm banded about my waist and lifted me higher. A final lick, one last swirl, and he thrust inside me.

I quivered in his arms. He buried his face in my neck, tugged me onto him, forcing my arms around his neck as he drove into me. His breaths were hard, sharp blasts in my ear. His skin was sweat-slicked, and we slid together. His leg shook beneath our combined weight. The strain made his groans pain-laced and pleasure-filled. When his hand fit between us, found me, stroked me, I screamed his name. He shivered, arms cinching, pace quickening. His bellow made my ears ring.

He slid down the back of the stall until we crumpled onto the ground.

Bucking his hips, he almost dumped me from his lap. “What the hell?” Reaching under him, he withdrew half of the horse. Tossing it over the stall door, he said, “I’ll make you a new one.”

“You’d better.” My legs were boneless and loose. “I liked that horse, and I have the splinters to prove it.”

He shifted me on his lap, tucking his face against my shoulder and breathing deep.

A light breeze tickled our bare bottoms. Sand made plinking noises as it bounced off metal.

I scratched Dillon’s scalp and rested my forehead against his collarbone.

Warmth encased me, startled me into realizing I’d dozed for a moment. Blinking sleep from my eyes, I turned my head and spotted my blanket. His wings draped over my shoulders, hiding the scant inches of my skin visible beneath the stall door. Though his nudity concerned him less.

Pressure coiled around my leg. I glanced down to find his tail encircling my ankle. I pressed my smile against his throat. As sleep tugged me under, I said, “I told you it was a very nice tail.”

Chapter Thirteen

Alone in Dillon’s tent, I perched on the edge of his cot and awaited his return with Aldrich. To distract myself, I counted the curls of wood left from his carvings, but my attention wandered toward the tent flap. When a shadow dark with magic glided across the tent’s entrance, I started.

A cowled figure stooped as he entered the tent. His limbs were twisted, his limp pronounced, and power, such power emanated from him. Bleary eyes peered out at me, made my skin crawl beneath his appraisal. “You are feeling better?” He bobbed his head in a birdlike fashion. “Yes?”

I squirmed beneath his gimlet stare. “I am. Thank you.”

“All right,” Dillon said, ducking inside on Aldrich’s heels. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I thought…” I glanced from him back to Aldrich. “Shouldn’t we speak alone?”

If I was to be accused of misconduct, I’d rather it be done in private.

The priest rolled his shoulders. “I have nothing to say that one can’t witness.”

Relief surged through me. If that was the case, then whatever the topic of our conversation, it must not be as dire as I’d imagined. Still, I remained wary. “Dillon, could we have a moment…”

“No can do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You’re a prisoner, remember? That means no unsupervised personal visits.” He walked to the cot and dropped down beside me. “Carry on.”

I winced at the reminder. Glaring at Dillon, I was torn between gratefulness he was here and frustration that he might hear Aldrich’s accusations, if any were made, but he ignored me. His attention remained riveted on Aldrich, confirming what I’d suspected. He mistrusted all Sereians.

With Aldrich, he had reason to be wary. After all, so was I. As for me, well, his reservations were warranted on that score as well. So far we had both established our breed’s devious natures.

“Your manners haven’t improved, I see.” Aldrich shuffled toward Dillon’s desk and claimed the chair with a soft grunt. He pointed at Dillon’s calf. “Your leg has, yes? Emmaline’s healer has done well I think. Her talents were wasted at the consulate, though it matters not, considering her theft.” His expression turned sly. “My queen could use such a healer. While your Isabeau isn’t my equal, I could train her.” His gaze swung my way, assessing. He licked his dried lips. “Yes, she has much potential. Keep my offer in mind when the time comes to decide her punishment. She would be confined to the castle, to my quarters, and she—”

“Get to the point,” Dillon warned. “While you’re at it, roll your tongue back in your mouth.” He slid a heavy arm around my hip, dragging me across the cot until I bumped against his side.

Aldrich glowered at the possessive show, but warmth sparked clear to my fingertips.

Face flushed, Aldrich snapped at me. “You were reckless with your powers, and there will be consequences for your actions.” His displeasure lashed over my skin. “Even now, your energy is draining. Magical parasites aren’t easily removed. They’re not easily caught, either. You abused more than your own power; you exploited a lethal tool of your trade. A grimoire is at fault, yes?”

My shoulders bowed with the knowledge of how right he was. How foolish I’d been. “Yes.”

“If you intended to break your vow, you should have bound it so that no harm came to you or whoever finds it.” His glare sharpened. “It is lost, yes? That you didn’t take the proper precautions suggests incompetence, but you are far from an amateur spell crafter. You are a priestess of Zaniah.” Dillon tensed beside me. “Otherwise, there would be no grimoire to lose.”

I straightened with ease now that Dillon’s fingers had loosened. “I have no excuse.”

“You surprise me.” Aldrich appeared taken aback. “Yes, you would be a fitting apprentice.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m content with my work.” Or I had been. I exhaled.
No regrets
.

“Ah, yes. I don’t doubt you were, once, but betrayals aren’t easily forgiven.” He coughed up a ragged laugh. “If your prison’s walls become too restrictive, send word and you will be freed into my custody.” He turned a cold smile on Dillon. “He is not the only one with favors owed.”

“Get back on track, priest,” Dillon snapped. “She’s not yours, and you can’t have her.”

Tension crackled through the air. Burnt hair wafted to my nose as Aldrich’s temper flared.

Escape was a tempting offer, but after what Roland had done to Nesvia, the old priest’s offer was conditional. Or would be once he realized who had taught me. After hearing my master’s name, his offer would swirl from my hands the same as sand snatched by winter winds. Oh well.

He had his allegiances, and I had mine. I touched my locket, a gesture not lost on him.

“You have a child, yes?” Aldrich adjusted his robes. “Female, I heard. Perhaps consider—”

Low growls sliced through Aldrich’s offer, and my heart swelled. For a moment I let myself pretend my daughter and I could claim this fierce champion. That he was ours and would protect us against the threat of recruitment. I was sullied. I would be barred from my temple, as Mother had been after my birth. My daughter, though, was born of powerful bloodlines, and some would covet her, believing her father would compensate their efforts at grooming even his bastard heir.

Once, an offer of status through education would have tempted me. Apprenticing to Aldrich was an honor, one difficult to dismiss. But I wanted my daughter with me, not raised in a temple. I would teach her. I would protect her. It was my duty to keep her safe from choices I had made.

Another rumble brought my attention to the angry tic in Dillon’s jaw. I patted his thigh, and he jumped on contact. Being so intent on Aldrich, he hadn’t noticed when I moved closer. Soon enough, he relaxed beneath my touch. When he dragged me against him and pressed a lingering kiss to my temple, my eyes rolled shut.

“I won’t let him have you, either of you.” His lips trailed my cheek. “You’re safe here.” Crossing to my ear, he said, “Say the word and he’s out of this tent, out of this colony, hell, out of this realm if it makes you happy.”

“I’m fine.” I caught him unawares, my lips brushing his before he withdrew.

“My patience wears thin,” Aldrich groused. “Let us settle this matter so that I might leave.”

Untangling from Dillon was impossible. His grip was too firm. I gathered as much dignity as I could muster while plastered from hip to shoulder with him. “All right. What are your terms?”

“In exchange for the absolution of my debt to the queenmaker, Harper Delaney, I offer my blood to seal your grimoire. Should you accept my offer of aid, then I ask our bargain be sealed as well.” His bony shoulder rolled. “Considering your current situation, I am well within my rights to ask for such precautions to be observed.” He gave me a half smile. “You have a knife?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Dillon said, “but I do.”

Aldrich considered him for a long moment, until I felt sure he would deny the possibility of Dillon acting as my proxy. “If she breaks her vow to me or abuses my blood, then you will be the one who suffers for it. Are you willing to risk a blood tie to me for her? A Sereian? A priestess?”

So Aldrich knew of Dillon’s disdain for our kind. Having spent time together while Dillon was wounded, several days as they journeyed from the city of Rihos toward Feriana and the consulate, his dislike would have been obvious. Dillon wasn’t one for keeping his opinions quiet.

Dillon offered his arm. “Do it.”

I tried to press his arm to his side, but he locked his muscles. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re too weak to give more blood, besides…” his eyes searched mine, “…I trust you.”

My throat constricted, trapping the warning I owed him after what we shared.
You shouldn’t
.

“I see now why you’re slow to accept my offer.” Aldrich patted his pockets. “It seems your jail has fewer bars than I’d realized.” He grinned. “Or else it has incompetent jailers.” When he withdrew his hand, he clutched a vial and uncorked the lid. After Dillon supplied a knife, Aldrich sliced through the thick scarring on his forearm, digging deep until reluctant blood surfaced. He gave no indication the cut caused him pain, but his brow wrinkled as he measured his donation. I watched as crimson filled the vial and it was stoppered. Without warning, he slashed Dillon’s forearm, pressing the seam until crimson ran in rivulets. Then he clasped arms with him and let their blood mingle. Dillon hissed as Aldrich’s magic wormed beneath his skin. I rested my face behind his shoulder and stroked his back until the worst of his tension ebbed. When I withdrew, damp splotches marred his shirt, but at least my eyes were dry. Foolish, foolish male to trust me.